The Muse is usually a she
according to art history.
More than once I’ve
served in that capacity.
I’ve also known it as a he
a love, an ardent kind
of sustenance, a boon
to heart and mind.
In the end I think
it is a voice inside
wherever the best
part of me abides.
It is ancient, bardic,
will not be cajoled
or come when called
or do as it is told.
“Do the work,” it says,
“and leave the door ajar.
Do not worry.
I know where you are.”
littleoldladywho.net 
That is lovely! The muse, I prefer to think him as male lol. 🙂 But you are right, it is like a voice inside yourself. Keep the door ajar! That is such a nice metaphor. You never know when the muse slips in! 🙂
Thanks, Ina, and you’re right..you never know the gift until it’s given.
This is so powerful, so. Rey powerful! You took my breath away, Cyn! YES! Thank you for continuing to open to this inspiration and share it
My word..to be up so early reading poetry..I love it, and I love that you like this one, Julie. Thanks for saying so. It just started to snow here, AGAIN! Can you hear my scream all the way ‘cross country in Cincinnati? Mercy!
“Do the work…I know where you are.”
Brilliant.
That really pleases, coming from you, Burl. Thanks!
Oh Cynthia, there are so many phrases in this that jump out! I would just end up copying out the whole poem! I just loved it all the way through. And then the last stanza, well it totally brought your muse to life! I might pop over to yours and make it a cup if coffee; it will have to be a quick one though as he/she/it is always busy!
I think my muse loves coffee, Christine…still, it will not give in to that or any other beverage intended as a bribe..thank you for that delightful image!
Oh I do like this. I have 2 muse–one is male, an ardent ghost-love from long ago and forever; the other is the Holy Spirit. Both are with me always and keep me going.
Thanks, Mirada, glad you like this. Sounds like you are definitely rich in muses!
Yes Ma’am!
Well I think it is evident that the Muse comes pushing on your door pretty regularly Cynthia. Maybe it’s the coffee you offer, or something more warming, or maybe he or she comes for the conversation! I guess the conversation.
Isn’t that a nice thought! Of course, only my side of th a conversation is audible, and though seeming to talk to oneself used to be considered eccentric at best, now with the ubiquitous cell phone, the sound of a lone individual walking down the street and talking out loud is quite normal. My muse and I appreciate that…and we very much enjoyed your a-musing comment!
To Cyn,
I really enjoyed reading this poem. I think my muse is a voice that I often fail to acknowledge. This poem made me realize how much useless chatter I allow into my mind to the point that I fail to hear my muse. A delightful, thought-provoking poem.
Greetings Eileen….Thank you for your thoughtful comment. Have you considered that Toby K. and Bridie Mae might be the feline embodiments of your muses? 🙂
So true. The muse comes when he/she is ready and knows that you are ready too.
And that part about “do the work” is very important…..which of course you know by such ways as your fosterrng of the Elfje form. In its strict simplicity,the elfje does the work, and it leaves the door ajar for happenrngs….I find it equal to—and maybe more pleasing than–haiku. Thanks, Libby
…and thank you too Cynthia. 🙂
oh, this is perfectly wonderful! I think of my muse as a shape shifter who can come from any direction at any moment – keep the door ajar is perfect 🙂
Now we don’t have to say “he, she, or it”. Maybe “shape-shifter” is just the expression needed!
I agree the muse is usually a she. Sometimes when it is not a she (it can be anything), I add the feminine virtues of gentleness and compassion to it and consider it a she all the same.
That’s interesting….though I have met a few humans of the masculine persuasion who also possessed the virtues of gentleness and compassion ..:-)
There are some poems that sing their meanings. This poem sings: She? He? I suspect the muse is a metamorphosis that is always becoming.
A good suspicion, I think, which is why it’s good to keep the door ajar..
Great poem Cynthia! I noticed that like Christine and myself, your muse is a coffee drinker. Ah, imagine the fun our muses could have over some coffee? 🙂
Many years ago I wrote a short piece giving that voice an image. However, I have learned that my muse is sometimes a trickster. At times it seems female but if I try to pin her down, changes take place and often my muse is a faerie/brownie/pixie that lives in the beautiful country that surrounds me.
After visiting your blog, I’m convinced that your muse is the spirit in your “beautiful country”, and may be that country itself!
Merci beaucoup! Alas, there are two blogs and the second is poetry… 🙂
A mischievous muse at best.
Whilst trying to find a way to gently enquire as to your health and safety, after the last few days, I came across this. It is, as most everything of yours I’ve read, quite lovely.
I do hope you are well.
Ah..how kind of you… Woke up this morning to a sunny, white, glistening world.(will be lookin’ at that white part for some time, I think, since it’s just about all there is to look at!) One good thing about this town is that they’re used to severe winters so quick and well-equipped to clear roads, driveways, walks, etc. Also, we never lost the ‘lectric juice, so heat and light did abide…whew! Dog and cats hardly noticed, though dog seemed to experience some consternation as she tried to squat in two feet of snow first thing this morning….so that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. You’re a sweetheart for inquiring. Thank you.
Good to hear. Stay well…