Beautiful Ferona

I was wondering lately if The Muse—that beautiful magical woman who fills our heads with flowey stuff—is really just pent up sexual tension? It comes, it goes. It's fantastic, it's heartbreaking.

Or maybe—maybe, she's a lost gypsy walking door to door, and once in a while one of us answers, pen in hand.

Maybe she's the sun coming out through the clouds, reaching in through our eyelids into the synaptic pulses of desire.
Maybe she's the planets, circling in furious patterns; almost crashing, almost melding. Sparkling, distant phantom ideals.

I call mine Ferona, and feed her chocolate.

Comments

  1. I liked that. I like that you feed your muse chocolate.

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  2. beautiful words and I like the thought here. But, I don't give my muse that much power. it's stunts my writing if I feel like I have to wait around for her/him/it to show up.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you! And you're right. A person shouldn't wait for inspiration, they should know how to culture it so it never runs dry. I've been learning this the hard way, but it's good to learn.

    I still love the idea of a muse though. And I do feel in some ways she is real.

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  4. I call my muse beautiful but I've never thought to feed her. I love the way your mind works.
    A lovely weekend to you my dear.
    Warm regards,
    Simone

    ReplyDelete

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