The Artist & The Muse


The rough hewn tip of the pencil made a scraping sound.

The strokes turned from feathery and gentle to sure and determined.

The creator was in awe of the muse.

The muse held the creator very dear.

But there lay in her heart a deep, dark fear.

The creator was passion personified.

The muse was nonchalant towards him who held her glorified.

She was wary and slithered to the rear.

Ignorant of it all the creator drew near.

Seeking to capture the glint in her eye.

He tried in vain and let out a frustrated sigh.

For when it went dank and cold, it wasn’t him she sought to hold.

It wasn’t Him for whom her eyes turned to molten gold.

Megha Sharma

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~ by eugenicist on May 18, 2011.

10 Responses to “The Artist & The Muse”

  1. Nice one 🙂

  2. wow…nice one 🙂

  3. Wow…lovely:)
    “…her eyes turned to molten gold.” beautiful expression.
    Regds
    Deepa
    http://deepazworld.blogspot.com

  4. hmmm you sort of described envy…the creator wanting something he can’t ever have but tries to capture with his pencil 🙂
    Enjoy the potluck, nice work 🙂

    http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/05/25/the-night-of-the-teardrops/

    • More than envy, I think it was the complexity of emotions and reciprocation I wanted to express. Thanks so much for takin out the time to read 🙂

  5. a theme fitting piece.
    wonder sketches,
    thanks for sharing…….

    😉

  6. Beautiful, I love the dynamics between artist and muse in your poem.

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