By Lu Sobredo
My muse came along on another one of my jaunts today, to my favorite Café. My best friend Ken Miller was convinced that another poem was manifesting in messages I sent him.
It is a conspiracy between my best friend, my muse, and others as you shall see in the newest verses. And the photo is as fresh an inspiration for these verses coming alive. On his last day of travel to mine and my Mother's ancestral land in the Philippines, my husband James Sobredo on his early morning communion with the sunrise, captured what my heart longed for...
|Sunrise in Baybay. Aklan, Philippines--Ancestral Home. ©James Sobredo 2020|
IN THE COMPANY OF MY MUSE: POEM #5
read somewhere, though details escape me,
leap years are lucky years.
defined by science, legend or wistfulness,
an unmistakable buzz.
buzz overwhelmed the 29th of February 2020
Of energies raised
To heights unseen for so long.
muse relentless, kept me writing for hours.
into the night. Mysteriously, it stayed to greet
morning of the first day of March.
Whispers hummed in my ear.
couldn’t help but comply, as thoughts
out like words imprisoned
to wake after a long slumber.
there truism to what I hear
About leap years?
they are great for finding optimism,
Love and spiritual
Or better yet, for spiritual wisdom
find those in a drought.
muse of late makes gentle,
Albeit persistent demands.
Oddly insistent to the point of my unease.
you know February came from februum,
Latin for purification?
No? Don’t worry, nor did I.
kind of arrogant poetic license did my muse bargain for?
that encroaches, inserts in my life
all the times on the Gregorian calendar,
as the Lenten season starts.
leap year must be when decisively we take the leap
the Earth on that one day in February
four years does not orbit the
In three hundred sixty five days
As it habitually does.
muse dares not turn away when given license
to restore, renew, re-ignite, take claim
passions destiny brought.
Is this the same muse that accompanies me
Cafés while people-watching at noon;
Or in my bedroom while listening again and again
Michael Bublé crooning about a summer day
That has come and gone away, in Paris and Rome,
And how he just wants to go home?
that gradually the heart grows familiar
company with a muse
soothes the drought; soothes the impatient wish
my beloved’s return home
his travels afar so I, too, could go
Again in places known or unknown.
mother in Heaven must have conspired
while on Earth
prodded, nudged and fed
gods. The gods, she swore, were waiting for me
To burst into song.
the same gods fed and
Inspired my muse.
muse unapologetic of its strums
an air of grace-filled confidence
stepping onto a stage and totally owning it.
Neruda dreams more exposed, blushed
In sweet horror in company
of my Muse.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
About the Author
Lu Sobredo is writer/publisher at
Lu Travels Abroad, a blog dedicated to folks whose limitations do not hamper
them from traveling. A year into early retirement her world collapsed from the
diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA). Her total life changed, but she did not
let RA define her. With love from family, friends and an awesome doctor, she
regained some functionality--her new normal. She will have RA all
her life. And she now writes about life and travel with RA. During the
pandemic of 2020, she stays put and writes poetry and a first novel, a travel
of sorts but in the heart and mind.
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading my blog post and leaving a comment. Have a good day!