O Muse! Thou art the cruelest mistress who
Draws breath: to show thyself unveil'd unto
Mine eye and to deny my passion thus awaked –
To let me be enchanted by thy form
And to reject that courtship, which does spring
From that raw flame alone which thou thyself
Didst once engender – by thy will – in me;
If purest longing, burning, of a love-
Sick soul e'er slew, as oft those who had their
Fay love of thee requited have assur'd me,
Why live I still? Unless my love for thee
Is, as thine for me, dead and cold and still.
If thou didst hate me so, why bare thy breast
To me and make me love thee, love thee so?
-
Author:
Samuel Maximilian (
Offline) - Published: July 12th, 2025 19:59
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso
Offline)
Comments4
A muse can be seductive and a tease but not deliver as promised. The rape of a muse is not advised. Fun read
I certainly didn't mean to convey even a thought of that sort... rather a plea of desperation--but I suppose the poetry ought to be allowed to speak for itself. Thank you for taking the time to comment.
Welcome to MPS🕊️🙏🏻
Thank you! I'm excited to have more accountability to write poems by publishing them online.
👍🏻
Enjoyed the read, nicely expressed and written
I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment.
You are very welcome
Incredible, a completely passionate and courageous piece, stories from someone who knew how to see the nameless woman dance when no one was looking. I really enjoyed it. Thanks for sharing. Cheers.
Thank you for commenting. I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed it.
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