One Thing She Enjoyed

try to think about a good time

not think about the first seven months

she enjoyed the music in the park

she just wanted to be with me

see all the little children dance

sit and eat her big oatmeal cookie

walked around to see someone she knew

maybe go buy the band's CD

it didn't take much to make her smile

her legs and feet bounced in time

with the beat and fast melody

while looking at all the people

when it was time to go home

gather up our chairs and tote bags

walked to the car and I'd drive her home

didn't want me to leave her alone

But I had to go...to my own place

I had to go...to get ready for bed

I had to work the next day

Finding My Muse

Do poets pay homage to a muse—
invoke by asking for help? HELP!
I need inspiration. I have not studied
the nine muses of Greek mythology.

Where are they?

Today, I ask the epic muse
to help me find my heroes.
The muse of tragedy suffers
because of social degradation and divisive
politicians who destroy America.
Maybe I'll find the muse of lyre music
to set a mood. The muse of hymns
goes to my mother's house. I know,
I can hear her humming. Last summer,
the muse of dance performed Pow-Wow's
in full costume—in blistering heat.
The muse of comedy plays on TV,
just watch the Hollywood crowd.

Where do I fit? Am I like Urania
the celestial muse, cosmic
poet of the heavens, sings lyrics
while holding a globe and compass?
My muse is with life on earth,
wind, trees, birds and sea,
air, light, moons, sun and poetry.
Though I have little clue about the cosmos,
I enjoy gazing at night's endless sky
to marvel at stars and search for UFOs.