Tuesday, January 10, 2017
From The Poet's Life #1 Comments
Rating: ★0.0
She drifted like Ophelia
not aware of her plight
as gentle currents lifted her
far above the muddy bottom, enveloping
...
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8/2/2025 5:18:36 AM # 1.0.0
Still sleeping trees! ! With the muse of life. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
thanks, Edward. I'm not sure if this is a MUSE POEM or a LOVE POEM. Maybe it partakes of both: too shy to declare itself a Love Poem, it hides behind the Muse, OR too awed to adress the Muse directly, it addresses her human stand in. It's so complicated today, I'll become a Provencal Troubadour and sing freely with yesteryears' innocent boldness! !