What Have I Become

Welcome Poetry People!

I am all about learning to latch on to the whispers of inspiration all around us. Music is one of the easiest places to feel and hear those tones of inspiration. I am constantly playing music for the most part, and sometimes, if I find I hear a bit of inspiration coming through, if I can hear the muse calling through the melody, I will put that song on repeat and let it flow.

This piece came that way. I was listening to the song Verona by Muse on spotify. When I felt the pull of the muse, ironic, I know, but I suppose it is no surprise a band that chose to name themselves Muse would produce inspiring music.

In this case, I didn’t do any lengthy research into the background of the song or what the artist has to say about it, I simply took my interpretation from listening to it. My interpretation is that this song was very clearly inspired by Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. This in itself is a beautiful thing to me; as someone who loves art and is often inspired by it, recognizing the inspiration that helped create the art I love is part of the process.

I obviously didn’t continue along the same lines, at least not exactly. I don’t celebrate Halloween, but I am aware of the sort of media cycle that exists regardless of what holidays you do or do not celebrate. It is safe to say Spooky season is a thing separate from Halloween simply due to the fact that fall is nature’s season of decay looking towards renewal.

Not only that, there is witch lore from all around the world that is dredged up this time of year; that is the direction I took this piece. I hope you enjoy October’s end.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedWhat Have I Become?What is this tastethe floating blisssweet like treacleyet balmy as a summerlovers’ exhaled breathI eagerly allow you tokiss the fateful poisonof revelry from mytraitorous lipsunafraid, I press ondevouring passiontransformingin the momentarymeeting of eyesJagged slaps of Lightning flash, and peals of thunder cryFrom crone to maidenyouthful in my spiritonce againas you fall awaydesiccatednothing but a pair offearful, tearful eyesI am forced torelinquish my grip onyour cold, thin graspadmitting you areno longer up tomy myriad of waiting tasksso I toss you into theancient waiting pitletting out a short tokenpiteous shake of my nowrestored radiant headas you sink into theanonymity of anunmarked mass grave

Thank you so much for reading this little poetic snack; I plan to start putting one invocation to the Muse out every month; I came up with this little idea at the end of the month. So the first two will be coming rather close together, but I am sure you won’t mind. May you be eternally inspired!

K.B. Silver

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