I remember the reap and feasts

of old,

I remember you.

There is a line of crimson-curled poesy

working deep inside

and it’s biting at my ribs

to be let out–

(this is Awen–when muse strikes and you are helpless before it.)

I’m trying,

oh I’m trying to live.

I’m trying to be real.

that’s what,

Shut Up.

It’s not like anything else I know.

~Melanie Thomason


Filed under Poetry, reblog

4 responses to “Awen

  1. being real…this sounds like my Hollywood son……he loves being real:). (They analyzed the movie Almost Famous movie in film class in college – he has been on a ‘search for real’ ever since!!!)

  2. A muse can cause havoc any time she feels like it.

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