Oh, to be a woman of the arts
To whom every word, every stroke
Pays homage,
Echoing her looks, her mind, her spirit
With power only the artist knows.
To be a Muse, one must only forfeit
All claim to independence, for once
Immortalized
In verse or on canvas, she loses that
Which made her interestingly complex.
She becomes what her master intended,
Mere fodder for his creative appetite, for
Who cares
About the person he has depicted?
She is merely his subject, nothing more.
Her essence is lost in appreciation of
Whichever technique her artist used, leaving her
Superfluous.
All that remains is that which her artist rendered
And an empty shell that once held her.
Muse, let the words flow from your pen
Or the paint flow from your brush instead.
Turn the tables
On your artist. Restrain he who once
Restrained you in pretty little nothings.
For in art, there is power.
I read this with undertones of feminism, as well as a crisp taste of spunk. Seems like a retort to Akhmatova's muse poems.
ReplyDeleteIts different, I like it :)
The idea of the free muse is an interesting and clever one. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteI said something about it in my messages with the dudes.
ReplyDeleteI like it, but, of course, it seems like a retort to somebody BESIDES Akhmatova.