Hugging the ghost of a Muse

In a close embrace

Feeling a pair of hands all

Over you

The forever yearning for

Human closeness

The warmth of a liked body

Continually seeking a union

Of flesh and mind.


The artist’s world of sensuality

Will always differ from the state

Of his inner freedom

With which he’ll express his art

That’ll roll past a landscape of

His soul

In ever mutating configurations

In a state of creative intensity

The looking glass of his spirit’s


‘See now’. He’ll entices his Muse

‘And dance for me a dance of

Veils amongst the Jasmin fields

Of an exuberant sundrenched

Summer’s day’.

Frozen for an extended moment

He’ll sketches her with feverish

Strokes of his coloured pens

He takes ad hoc

From his blue polyester bag.

And soon this fever of creation

Has invaded his Muse

Who stumbles and falls into

A bed of soft grass and lilies

Upon the stretched-out body

Of the artist.




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