Dying Muse

Not everyone will survive
The muse has sung her last song
The end is about to arrive
It has been following us all along

The forest is groaning in pain
She sheltered her creatures with love
Her labors were all given in vain
Of her plight she knew not thereof

The muse is now silent and sad
So let us stop for a moment and cry
She pines for the beauty she once had
As Earth breathes her last mournful sigh



Beyond the very depth of your soul
Lies a place where truths are hidden
Where thoughts whisper louder than words
And speaking them is forbidden

There emotions play hide and seek
Among the cobwebs of your sorrow
But love whispers from deep within
Bringing with it the hope of tomorrow
… Can you hear the whisper?


Born in Wilmington Delaware in the early 1950’s, Ann Christine Tabaka has been writing poems and rhymes since her Junior High years. She was a Fine Arts Major in college. 

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11 Responses

    • Christine Tabaka

      Thank you so much James. I pray that you are correct, and the Muse returns.

      • James Sale

        Yes, I think so – for how can you kill the spirit of life? Keep writing such fine poetry – and check out part 1 of my 4 part article on the Muse on this very website! Part 2 published later this month.

  1. Pegie Whitaker

    Oh, so beautiful! And a sad reflection of current killing in what once was our country. But I do hear the whisper…

  2. Satyananda Sarangi

    As beautiful as it could have got, ma’am. The thoughtfulness and the rhythm weave a musicality. Hence, a few lines on ‘ Dying Muse’ :

    Yonder where the corpse of muse does decay,
    The spirit of art hovers round its head;
    Dreadful scenes though their vile intent convey,
    Strands of hope bind us to an unknown thread.

    Heedless of fables, human minds pretend
    And succumb to melancholy’s frail might;
    Somewhere, veiled fibres are woven to mend
    Scars gifted to us by the gloom of night.

    The muse thus flies far off into the sky,
    It is homed in heaven and does not die.

    © 2017 Satyananda Sarangi
    All rights reserved.

    More power to thy pen, ma’am.


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