Years ago, I took a poetry class at a local community college. The teacher was a well-known Illinois poet named Kathryn Kerr. During one class she showed us "Another Muse Poem" that she had written in response to a number of poems on that subject, and she challenged us to write about our own muses. This was the result. And I hope this makes up for the poem I posted a couple of weeks ago. : - )
On Reading Kathryn Kerr's "Another Muse Poem"
The Greeks thought of art personified
As nine beautiful and graceful ladies,
Each lovely lady identified
With an aspect of creative activities.
They gave each a melodious appellation
Like Terpsichore, Urania, and Calliope,
And seemed to derive satisfaction
From calling them Muses collectively.
In our day of scientific knowledge
We talk about right-brain phenomena,
And when desiring poetic tutelage,
Run back to the arms of Polyhymnia.
But one lady poet of my acquaintance
Swears her Muse is no lovely Erato--
He's a dirty old man of impatience
Who makes advances at inopportune moments.
I think my Muse most definitely
Can be diagnosed manic-depressively.
He's split my personality effectively,
So I write horror and humor successively.
And there are some times of near normality
When the idiot just sits on his hiney
Staring cross-eyed in total banality,
Twiddling his lips with his pinky,