a mused meandering

a poemy day
ought to be fey,
yet way way cerebral,
to ensure,
what twain shall be severed,
or what paen is sought,
or it is naught.
mindful of “lost”
whence even the best of fellowship falls
into dreary ponderings,
to exclaim
if naught but what is alive be dreamt,
then shall, in the end,
the very misfortune one would flee,
best become the very escape one seeks.

aught, we feel,
ought it be bound to or abided by,
be it pithy or poor.
ours be not but hours of dew,
whereby beyond which worlds of words,
anon, albeit done, do.

so behold the challenge of review,
wherein the pleasure of treasures
beguiled, becomes,
profound,
nay, lost not, anew.

places’ acts, muses’ wanderings
shall retell that when befalling…
clouds’ coherence, lights darkened
tales’ woe, lest harkened.

so celebrate the challenge of review,
wherein the pleasure of treasures
beguiled, becomes,
profound,
nay, lost not, anew.

This piece is inspired by my bard friend, Sir Gigoid’s “Avuncular attempts at erudition“…. Methinks some  may find my poetry too cerebral, as do I, at times. It is, however, a style I rather enjoy – ie opening to the the muse, who then, will allow me to let their words pour forth… My challenge is to translate from the ephemeral language of the muses into something somewhat resembling the words/thoughts in which we humans might find some meaning, imagery or emotion. To me, it feels like the voices of the classic poets from Homer and Sappho, Ovid and Virgil, Keats and  Shelley. Without, perhaps, some of the strict disciplines they employed, such as form and rhyme. This piece, for example, I could tell in plain English in 50 words or less. But what would be the fun in that‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽
Anyhoo, only recently have I found strength of heart to put my words out, in full view. Of that, I am proud!!  My muses and I have many voices. I hope I can delight a few, at least, who dare to read.

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BuddhaKat.
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