My inspiration: a tribute ! and Hey! a new poem.

Inspiration comes from the inside... or I would like to keep up that idea. 

or perhaps from events that happen, songs or just random stuff that creeps up your leg and bites you in the ass. 

Apart from that inspiration comes from above, somewhere up there so this post is a tribute to the people up there somewhere who have been the muses in my head : this poem is for you people. It is called 

Myth-Love 

Lady who sits by the banks

Your dainty feet play against the water

Playfully, across the water

 

Like willow branches your hair

Bowing to the river edge

Never tied up in a bundle

Free, loose

The red leaves swaying in the soft breeze of spring

 

I dare no approach you, the lady of love

Aphrodite, just a look, a peek

To embrace,

An Angel , a Goddess. Made in the perfection

 

Of heavenly splendor.  And you recite, whisper into my ear

Music, the food of love

Let the dew of your speech

quench this burning soul.

 

 Flowers, fall, float on the reflection of you

Water, send a message of which I will never speak

You sit there quietly, not far from me.

I sit on the wet fertile field

Near.

 

Like a cat I sit there purring of your presence

It soothes like a balm of oil on a bruise

 

In your little chess game

I am just a pawn never considered,

Never mentioned.  Silence is the language we speak.

 

The cotton frock you have on is the life of the grass

Demeter awakes, envious of you

For you, revive the spring.

 

I tread nearer amongst the green

And you move

Away, slowly

So I step carefully, carefully

Like a waltz we play in this dance of the morning.

 

The water reflects a million you’s as the blossoms tango across the water’s face.

I have seen your face

Before

Amongst the nymphs and faeries, your voice, your laughter

A muse.

None as inspiring as you, O lady by the water.

 

My love is

but to the point of obsession

Humbert Humbert

His love, No not love

A lust for his Lolita, Disgusting bastard !

 

Not like him

I love, My love more pure, like the radient sun shinining in the sky

And like the cotton frock

Light and white

A pure innocent

Infatuation.

 

Do not follow me

Please do not, but let long

Let flow

As the river grows and the wind doth blow in the willow

Let it go, go and make it free

The rest is silence.

Yes it is a bloody long poem compared to the rest which i have written but perhaps not as good ... yet ... (raises glass of stout) to those on HIGH !!! (gulps down stout- it really burns !!! ) wipes mouth , flicks it on to table. ( barbaric is'nt it) 

Anyway this post is for all inspiration that i have had and still have