Today comes new,
Untouched.
I hope it leaves,
Well used.

and I loved it...
the efficacy,
the efficiency,
obeying, used,
the being used
to muse,
all in one word,
verbed and j'accused,
identifying the culpritess
(for my M-use is
definitively a woman),

I say:
Please baby,
Please bossy,
Please sir,
muse me some more?

M-use me, use-me,
accuse-me, heck,
abuse-me,
my tongue, my lips,
(especially, my lips)
your devoted
poet-servant.

give me spiel,
words to make
them laugh,
groan and squeal,
do me baby,
one mo' time,
the big reveal.

you know I am
exclusive to you,
others get my body,
but only you
get my
my poetic

streams of screams

things I can
never confess,
peeve but at the hinted
whisper of them,
things that weaken me,
in the places
where poems
umbilically
die stillborn,

the chord
connecting
just us two,
it, that chord,
wrapped round
my throat
choking off
my special voice,
cause you want
just those words,
My Muse,
all for yourself

and I can't say no
to
My Muse,
My Conscience

I.
He fell for a woman called
Fate

II.
But his wing-man
was Coincidence.

---a cheese-tasting cat? or a cat-tasting cheese? no, of course not!
             ---it is a cat named after a kind of cheese---

      
A picture of the late kitty, Scheppes,
appears on the computer,
she still, is the chosen wall paper...
she once ruled  the place, and
the heart of her master...
she was so adorable,
everyone must have dwelt on the thought,
she is irreplaceable...
but wait.....
what is this heap on the table
carelessly scattered,  sprawled?
a child's  coat?
with black stripes over gray fur?
what are these glowing,
green crystal buttons?

aha! suddenly, there is movement!
it is alive!

head and paws, now are visible,
green crystal buttons have turned
to emerald-eyes, now piercing,
glowing even more...
she shows her white vest underneath,
standing on her two paws,
clinging tighter to her master's feet...
to him, she softly purrs,
communicating in whispers,
staring over-confidently,
glaring eyes, slitting eyes
accompanying her every meow...
obviously, she feels contented,
lazily, peacefully slouched now,
between the keyboard
and her master...
young still,  naughty,
the house seems small to her whims,
too obsessed at times with Q-Tips,
sleepy after all her mischief,
seeming lethargic at times,
always savoring that feeling of peace,
happiness, she once didn't have...
for she has now found a new home,
she has found a new master to love,
one who would surely love her in return...

her name is B R I E ...*



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan