The Agitating Muse

 

During my 31-day commitment of writing and posting a daily piece, this came through ... most likely from the incessant voice of a muse that just won't quit. Thank goodness. 

Oh my goodness – your voice, your encouragement, it beckons
And geez, sitting my butt in my chair is a good idea, I reckon
But there are 1001 distractions that keep knocking at me
Organize the pencil drawer, eat a cupcake, climb a tree
Answer another email, gotta empty that inbox you know
Woops - here comes some more email, only 5 more now to go
Clean off the desk completely, maybe use microfiber on the screen
Must make sure before I start writing that everything is clean
Clean and clear, everything in its place, nothing to erase
So that when I am ready, I can convene sweetly face to face
With the guiding presence that delivers a gift that I cannot lose
Life is grand with the nagging inspiration of the agitating muse 

The agitating muse – OK, OK, I can hear you screaming my name
Whenever it is time to channel your words, it’s always the same 
I get annoyed with every tasky task that is put upon my plate 
I wince in pain, fidget in my chair, find creative ways to hesitate 
I feel like my body is moving in one direction and it’s all wrong
I want to be faithful to the lilting voice echoing a sublime song 
But I got all this shit to do, not even sure what it’s all for 
My left brain and right brain are in an all-out war 
When it gets this crazy, I feel this aggravation and agitation
I long for the action that comes from pure motivation 
I gotta find a way out of this conflict or I will blow a fuse
If only all I had to heed was the nagging inspiration of the agitating muse 

Perhaps there is a way, a path, an opening, a road of real recovery 
Leading to a clearing in a field we share, a place of deep discovery 
Where chaos can reign and rule over the outside world of the blind 
Noticed, acknowledged, accepted, but not followed by a wandering mind  
Here - sitting calm, with a centered and still body is best, I reckon
Oh my goodness – your voice, your encouragement, it beckons
And yes it is actually beautiful, not agitating at all, when I listen clearly 
It only wants to hold high a vision; it only wants to hold me dearly
And whisper its wonder through inspirational pictures and lyrical tone 
Reminding me that at the deepest core, I am never alone 
Let the emails pile up, let the desktop get cluttered, there is only one thing to do 
I am here, with my partner in prose – the astonishing, generous, faithful muse 

SOMEBODY'S BABY

(A poem inspired by a homeless woman I will most likely never see again.)

 

I walked our regular daily walk today

Seeing the routine views along the way 

Trees and streets, and then skies up there 

I observe the sights - I breathe the air 

Then quickly something catches my attention 

Shaking my head, I grasp for comprehension

A troubled one - limping, dirty, disheveled - an alone and lost lady

Once upon a time, that was somebody's baby

 

That was the phrase that flashed across my mind

Too late, to now turn my head away, blind 

Where is she going, where did she come from

Too easy to throw her aside like some runaway bum

No, this one, like all of us, has a history and a life 

She has had very similar battles, struggles and fights

Perhaps cradled, as an infant, in warm arms - maybe?

The truth is, that was indeed somebody's baby 

 

Who does this soul belong to, an angel she must have 

Someone who watches over her, even with the past she’s had

Whatever happened, there was at least a father and a mother 

For how long this lasted, we will probably never discover 

But she is a human – once and therefor forever one of us

Embracing her in some way, a true and faithful community must 

Someday to reside in a sacred place – calm, serene, shady 

For this is somebody's baby … this is somebody's baby 

   

A BEAUTY BEYOND COMPARE

Today, for a daily dose of writing prose, I keep it simple.

I marvel at the vision before me.

A youngster - a mere 2 and 2/3 year old. 

I write this one with a heart weary of the bad news of the day.

That can be kept at bay.

For today, here is a grand opportunity to see beyond the dark edges brought to us by a world which has forgotten its source. 

Here is my chance. 

A simple glance - upon this illumined face, the deep round eyes, holding not one hint of disguise. The pure expression, filled with the unbridled joy of brand new exploration.

Here is Abigail. 

Holding her Abby Doll. Apparently inseparable, at least in images in recent memory.

Here is Abigail, My niece’s child. Sister of Allison - also new to this new world. 

May her light, may their light, guide the way. Not just for themselves, but for anyone who has the opportunity to join in this experience, a chance at a glance - in a series of photos I wish to share. 

A beauty beyond compare.