On the 28th of November 2016, I wrote this poem in honor of my friends, The Quill-bearer, The Penholder and The Dekayed Mind; poets whose words stroked the strings to which our hearts hang.
An Ode to the Muses
Hail to the muse who holds the pen
Whose sleek lines pierce the hearts of men
Slaying the dread that haunts their path
Paving the escape from the furnace’s wrath
Hail, O hail thy mighty head
Scribble our inner thoughts in it instead
Honor to the muse who bears the quill
Whose rhymes sublime I fathom not still
Thy mouth majestic spits forth blight gall
Thy skill and flare subdue them all
Honor to thy quill whose ink doth not dry
Amongst the mighty thy golden spot shall lie
Cheers to the muse whose words entrance
Whose lines ride high the ladies’ chants
Make their insides squirm with delight
And yearn for the smoochy, cuddly night
If thy mind were but half dekayed
Thy works would thrive and never fade
Muses of the art supreme
To thee I sing my humble hymn
If time erodes thy precious works
Or vice or yet the ageing perks
Do not forget that once ago
Thy light illumed the earth below