slippery muse

I wonder if I will find the thread on the solitary

dirt road

drive into town?

If I play Neil Young’s wistfulness

her “Harvest Moon”

will she come out again,


Or perchance she might cup

might waft

 from leaves of the tea shop


seep into my sipping soul

looking up?

Is the muse just a playful seal we see over there as we dive in the surf


hide and seek?

Or has she gone for good

turning slowly away

from the pile of dishes and laundry

as I too late



This entry was posted in Creativity, Inspiration, poetry, Soulful and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

18 Responses to slippery muse

  1. Beautiful poem. Thank you
    Ciao, Susan

  2. i love Harvest Moon, Chloe, and your plea to the Muse is as sweet and disarming and pure. x tony

    • SirenaTales says:

      Well, Tony, you have once again brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. I am more grateful than I am able to express for the blessed treasures your writing, your support and your sensitive, radiant soul are. Thank you. xo

  3. Uzoma says:

    I guess I should be checking out “Harvest Moon.” That aside, you’ve created a real sense of adventure in my head. Sweet lines, I must say 🙂

  4. SirenaTales says:

    Reblogged this on Sirena Tales and commented:

    Gah! Am in a similar space of muselessness…again. I searched my own archives to see what I may have said before, and it all still fits. Except, sadly, that the lovely dirt road weaving through my holiday is now but a summery memory. Taking my muse with it. I hope the Muse has found you. xo

  5. stacilys says:

    What an intelligent poem Chloe. It’s like the lack of muse became your muse.
    I just heard Harvest Moon on Thursday, after years of not hearing it. I actually saw Neil Young in concert about 22 years ago or so. Ok, now I’m feeling old :-).
    By the way, I saw something on pinterest the other day and it made me think of you. It’s a painting of a palm branch with a blue background. The writing on it says, “The sea called my soul… and I answered with all my heart.”
    Hope you’re well and dancing a bunch.

  6. Rachael Charmley says:

    How strange, Chloe. This afternoon as I was struggling to write, I played Neil Young’s ‘Down By The River’ over and over. The muse is always there, just waiting for us to push through to link up with her again. Maybe she can be caught if you sing and dance and love – and anything else you do that reminds you you’re alive. And believe. The hardest thing of all (i find) is to believe in myself.
    Beautiful poem. I missed you. xx

    • SirenaTales says:

      Heh–binge listening to Neil Young. Love that! And delighted to learn that we share appreciation of his haunting, soulful music. Your words resonate so deeply for me. Indeed: “…Maybe she can be caught if you sing and dance and love – and anything else you do that reminds you you’re alive. And believe. The hardest thing of all (i find) is to believe in myself….” Ah, yes. Believing in oneself, and one’s art…. You are a sage and soulful master, my friend. Rock on…and I will meet you there :). xoxo

  7. My muse hides behind rocks, dives into the sea (when I am at the sea), and goes down the drain with dishwater. Then she slides in next to me at most inappropriate times, only to dash away again.
    I think our muse hang out together (and trail along behind Neil Young) but clearly yours comes around to help you with your wonderful poems.

    • SirenaTales says:

      You make me smile, Emilie. I love your picture of the playful muse’s wanderings! And to hear that you dig Neil Young–woot! Thanks so much for your kind companionship, my friend. xoxo

  8. Miranda Stone says:

    Your muse will most certainly return, my friend. Creative energy just ripples through you, but even the most creative need to rest sometimes. Think of it as cocooning–preparing for the next step on your path. Be patient with yourself and your muse. I was recently seized by the thought that for the past year, I’ve been writing like crazy, burning the candle at both ends, and now I’ve used up all my words and ideas. I was ready to put the notebook and pen away for a while. It was a terrifying thought, because writing has become such a huge part of my life. But I settled into the fear until it subsided, and I prepared myself to take a break. And then my own muse, fickle creature that he is, graced me with yet another idea. I can practically hear him saying, “Oh, no, girl, you’re not done yet.” Just trust yourself, and I promise you a new door will open. Love and hugs to you, Chloe.

    • SirenaTales says:

      A terrifying thought, indeed: the image of not creating. Thanks so much for getting me, as always, Miranda. I realize my inner critic has been working double overtime. Hey, who okayed that on this payroll?! I also realize that a lot of my attention has been taken by some other matters here, and of course there cannot be enough energy, and time, to create when one is so fully engaged otherwise. Thanks more than I can say for your continued cheerleading! Love you!

  9. diahannreyes says:

    Love this image of you following her trail, Chloe… She is most certainly at the end of the road waiting to greet you, I’m sure! I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve re-met each other already. XO

    • SirenaTales says:

      Dear Diahann, So pleased and appreciative to hear your encouraging words. As I mentioned to Miranda above, methinks my ridiculously overbearing inner critic has been having a hey day. Basta! Love having you here, my lovely friend. xo

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