I have read somewhat aghast
of the aforementioned muse
though he speaks of her in
polite gradual tones
(that is Ted Hughes I'm referring to)
her embodiment of work
leaves to me too few clues
perhaps I am dense
or just incapable to see through
such violent and disturbing cues
such as her writing seems to
so darkly attribute
depression and suicide were never
my selected forte'
nor blessedly was I ever afflicted
I must round to be fair and say
it's the joie de vrie in which I seek
to absorb and display
blood, darkness and perpetual mental
anguish coupled in humorous alliteration
I cannot in good conscience lend my
creativity to
for I always wish to reach
farther and farther up
within myself
not manage to stoop lower and lower still
and describe it all in such clever detail
the pathetic rancidness of all the muck
for that would not bespeak well
of my over all genial heart and
amiable mind
I'll leave this world only when God
says my dear it is your time
not that I believe myself to be better
than any published distressed 60's poetess
I'd just as soon rather choose
to cheerfully sort out and
clean up my own fretful mess
giving the world A Come Full Circle View
of a woman/poetess who feels utterly
and truly most very blessed
so my pen is uncapped for you Sylvia
but still, you shall ever remain for me
not at all my particular cup of tea
for I choose to point out the beauty in life
more so over the humor in dying
or one's death.........................
(March 27, 2011 1247am)