|The Boeotian Muses|
The three muses
Who consume every writer’s mind
From which one feeds
And vomits it across each leaf
We are all enthralled to this genius
Which intellectually frees us
Without, we are nothing
Destitute and empty recesses of a rind
Mentally drained and overexerted
But with, no hesitations persist
Only a stream of free-flowing
Pulsing waves ebb and pour
With each stroke of the pen’s tip
An ode to these muses
Is very well-deserved
An ode to the rulers
The mind’s own manna.
Poet's Notes: This is an ode to the rulers or muses who assist every poet.
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