What entices your Muse?
I think of her constantly, sometimes with irritation, sometimes, pleading, most often accepting her wily ways and sense of timelessness. She will wake me in the middle of the night with a string of words that will never be available again. She lurks in writing groups, surprises when I’m driving. She is ubiquitous, as fragrant as a stargazer lily and illusive as stars on a cloudy night.
I take every advantage to be alert to her omniscience. It is I who am forgetful, ignore that little tug of an image, get monkey mind when all I should be is mindful. So, the invitation to participate in Postcard Poetry Month in August reeled me in.
For the seventh year poets have written a poem a day and sent it out to a list of 31 other Muse chasers. As I pondered the delight of a postcard in my mailbox, I also realized that my quirky little off the cuff poem would have only one reader.
SO, I decided to share with you, that which flashes through on a poem that cannot be studied, revised, re-re-written and critiqued. Write it. Mail it. So, here goes.
At the Post Office
Blonde pony tail flips back and forth—
a tidy coif to suit her summer chic tan,
a skimpy tank top and yellow skort.
Rhinestone ear studs dot her small lobes.
With both hands she jerks open the battered car door,
that matches the rumpled front end
after mailing off the final divorce papers.
A raven squawks a celebration
from the flag pole.
©2013 C.J. Prince