Within the written she resides
in quiet assurance of her place.
Lithe and languid, with regal mien,
she glides from the page bearing gifts.
The mantle, flowing through the ages,
envelops her in verity profound.
Gently musing all the while,
in soft tones of measure, knowing.
The voice, breath soft in sublime
caress, whispers, it’s all good and
good as so ever sought, sighs.
Her fair abstraction, niched in
careful frame, illuminates the
recess where the wayward
seeker dwells. The essence of
comfort, awaits its release from
restraint of time, space
and ethereal sublimity.
The sweet words roll on.
(Dedicated to the muse, as without her inspiration,
all artistic endeavor would be non-existent. (JAB)
Ancient authors and their imitators invoked Muses when writing poetry, hymns or epic history. The invocation occurs near the beginning of their work. It asks for help or inspiration from the Muses, or simply invites the Muse to sing directly through the author. Originally, the invocation of the Muse was an indication that the speaker was working inside the poetic tradition, according to the established formulas.
Homer, in Book I of The Odyssey:
"Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns
driven time and again off course, once he had plundered
the hallowed heights of Troy."
(Robert Fagles translation, 1996)
Virgil, in Book I of the Aeneid:
O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;
For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began
To persecute so brave, so just a man
(John Dryden translation, 1697)
From: The Journey: A Nomad Reflects.
Also for Sale:
Don’t Die with Regrets: Ireland and the Lessons my Father Taught Me.