By: Annice Posted on: April 07, 2009
"Come! Write about the Muse!" he said,
I pouted long and hard
"Why is it all about the Muse,
And not the working bard?"
"Let's sing about Calliope
The beautiful of speech!
The Muse of epic poetry!"
My ears, he didn't reach.
"Let's talk about the wind!" I said,
"That shivers in the trees
For that inspires many thoughts!
And brings back memories."
"Consider then, the glorious one!
The Muse of history!
Let's write an ode or kyrielle
To Clio, bel espirit."
But I was busy scribbling down
Some lines about a bird.
I did not listen to his thrill;
I barely even heard.
"Young lovers praise Erato's name
When romance fills their heart!
I'm sure that you could write of her
Just take your pen and start!"
I rolled my eyes and muttered,
And stifled a small yawn.
I wished that he would finish,
But he lectured on and on.
"Why not the muse Euterpe?
She stands for lyric verse;
Pray, follow my advice please -
You know you could do worse."
But I was busy counting out
The shells upon the sand.
His ranting on the muses, I
Just could not understand.
His lesson of Melpomene,
The muse of tragedy,
Brought not one tear to my dry eyes;
No ache of sympathy.
"How can you speak of sorrowing
On such a glorious day?
Put down your books, take off your shoes!
Come run with me! Come, play!"
"The Gods chose Polyhymnia
To praise them in her song
Of prayer and of Thanksgiving.
She helps our faith grow strong."
But I was off a-frolicking
With butterflies in field;
His message seemed to pass me by,
It's truth was still concealed.
"Let's write in praise of Terpsichore!
Who dances with delight,
Upon the shadowed forest floor
With moonbeams glowing bright."
I climbed a tree and plucked a leaf;
I marvelled at its shape.
He must leave off eventually,
And then I could escape.
"Perhaps you would find comedy
More suited to your taste.
Now let's consider Thalia, and
The lore her laughter's graced."
I heaved a sigh, pretended I
Was list'ning carefully.
My patience coming to an end -
When would he let me be?
"The final Muse, Urania
Encompasses all space.
The planets and the very stars
All lay in her embrace.
I turned my eyes upon him now,
My smile lit up the sun;
For he was surely finished since
She was the final one.
"And now you know all nine of them,
Which one shall be your choice?
Which one of them inspires you,
Gives wings to pen and voice?"
I tried hard to be truthful then,
Fulfill his faith in me.
I had not paid attention as
He educated me.
I knit my brow and thought real hard,
Then looked him in the eyes;
"I think that what inspires me most
Are purple butterflies!"