Rekindling

She never sleeps, my Muse. But sometimes, through the frost and rough of winter, she pretends to volcano—keeping her fieriness deep and bubbling. When she is pretending, my Muse, poems and stories rise to the surface to show tips of dreamed icebergs made of magma (in-waiting).

ink is fire
forever ready
to spring worlds

 


borrowed from Jungian Genealogy, by Iona Miller

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Poets United

 

71 thoughts on “Rekindling”

  1. she pretends to volcano

    You convey so much in just 4 words! I could immediately see all the ideas erupting out the top of my head.. words to write down.. lovely.

  2. A strong image; I’ll always remember this. And share.

    My Muse is on vacation at Mar-a-Lago, on my dime, and sends back the occasional postcard. But I admit I don’t always treat her well.

  3. My stories are rising to the Crest. Beginning to fold over the top….crusty though it is. They crack and burn. Fueled by rage and mixed with Hope’s and desires. Pent up frustration! Soon to push forward bent on entertaining my muse.

  4. It feels natural to creative minds to incubate ideas for a bit, deep inside, until they find the one that will hold its glow outside. Though while it is natural, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t work involved. Labor is pretty damn natural too – and exhausting. But the outcome is worth it.

  5. ‘Volcano’ as a verb made me sit up, Magaly! I love the idea of your muse bubbling beneath the frost, ‘ink…ready to spring words’ and ‘show tips of dreamed icebergs made of magma (in-waiting)’. Now that’s creation!

    • I’m almost convinced that most muses are allergic to sleep. And all the sleeping they seem to do is fake, all pretending. They just wait… to burst into action the moment our eyes even dream about closing.

  6. Ah, when the volcano is ready, you can’t stop the flow of words! That muse deep inside is just waiting until it can wait no longer, and then….watch out! I love this poem, Magaly.

  7. “she pretends to volcano” and “show tips of dreamed icebergs made of magma”: How wonderful!
    The tenacity of your muse is all too apparent in your words, Magaly!

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