What inspires you?

AChild

Literotica Guru
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Apr 4, 2006
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I find myself rewriting the same poem because the muse teases me with the idea that she could be done in better. (Side question: does perfecting the idea kill the muse?) So dear friends what muse habitually escapes your pen? How did you catch it? What experiences in your life have conjured your greatest muses?

more importantly :confused:
has the muse of the question escaped me?
 
reading poetry

i wanna ate you whole
peel even lesser meat from bone
add your scroll to my definition
and when I spel it wrong
it's right on time
 
what inspires me?
life.

does perfecting the idea kill the muse?
sometimes it kills the idea. i don't know about the muse... sometimes playing with the words is exciting. i guess i have to 'get in touch' with my muse.

now i'm confused because i don't know if you mean 'muse' as in a specific thing that inspires a poem, or muse as in an idea.


but i do know that all i want to do right now is 'fix' those five lines you've written.

:)
 
I say the muse is the thing that inspired the poem, and the capture is conveying the idea just right.

As for my those five lines take your best shot, if you can answer the first question without your politician hat. :D
 
AChild said:
I say the muse is the thing that inspired the poem, and the capture is conveying the idea just right.

As for my those five lines take your best shot, if you can answer the first question without your politician hat. :D
i thought i answered your first question and besides i was only on my soap box for all of two minutes you know. :D

and i have enough poetry of my own to fix without turning myself into knots trying to play with those lines. :p
 
Muses that amuse and bemuse me.

Theres the one who ambushes me, blowing my brains out with her pump-action, 12-guage inspiration.

Another whispers whole stanzas of raw brilliance in my ear, but only when I'm in some impossible, away from paper, position. (She dares me to write in blood on the ground.)

There's an ephemeral muse that glows like the reflection of water dancing across the form of a stranger, then is gone.

And the one who I must chase for hours across the page before she'll melt into my arms.


I cannot demand they come, but they're more likely to appear if I speak sweetly of them. They are beautiful.
 
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The slipperiest muse of mine? It is the one that teases me with sensuality that i still am not able to put into words. It is the surge of adrenaline and lust that grabs when when I connect with someone. It is how to define "love" without bringing sex into the issue. That muse comes at me, naked and splayed, displaying ad begging then as I reach out to touch, he is gone, he is clothed and hiding, daring me to wish him close again.

Im horny :(

isnt that amusing?

xoxox

maria
 
Maria2394 said:
The slipperiest muse of mine? It is the one that teases me with sensuality that i still am not able to put into words. It is the surge of adrenaline and lust that grabs when when I connect with someone. It is how to define "love" without bringing sex into the issue. That muse comes at me, naked and splayed, displaying ad begging then as I reach out to touch, he is gone, he is clothed and hiding, daring me to wish him close again.

Im horny :(

isnt that amusing?

xoxox

maria

ah, you've made me think... maybe Anticipation is my muse, or one of them. :D

Hi Horny, hope you're having a great day. :D
 
Muse

The moment that the senses fuse with the emotions.
You can taste the air and the colours around you are mesmerising.
A tangible tingle of electricity dances on your finger tips.
And you are so fast and so sharp and you hold the moment
Right there.

Im dont think I have a muse - just moments when I feel the above and others when writing is a cathartic (and sometimes messy) exercise.
 
life inspires me

poetry is a difficult thing for me to explain easily because it just comes to me, i'll look at something or will be walking along and my subconscious will start creating verse
 
I think I answered this with a poem not too long ago:


Everything

Corn gods, chinchillas, bananas, Uzbekistan, flowers, dingos, late night tv, credit cards, calculators, duct tape, forks, cell phones, golf, Shakespeare, laundry, giraffes, love, George W Bush's pinky fingers, rubber bands, razors, tap dancing, heroin, cartoons, cod, pine cones, Jesus, Snakes on a motherfucking Plane, me, frogs, paper clips, heat seeking missiles, money, mayonnaise, rubber chickens, David Hasselhoff, navel lint, towels, stars, sand, philosophy, sex, basket ball, laser, boredom, breath mints, baking soda, the road to Madalay...

Oh fuck it.

Let's sum it up,
shall we?
 
I'm a muse agnostic. For me there is only life and practice; occasionally a happy moment occurs when vowels and consonants align and please. Otherwise, all is plodding.
 
Reading

Reading exceptional prose will often inspire poetry in me, not just any prose, but the type that can read like poetry. Gabriel Garcia Marquez has done it in a few novels, Jeanette Winterson in Written on the Body, Mishima in his "Sea of Fertility" tetrology has, as Kawabata, and Tanizaki have.

Reading poetry will also inspire me. I have subscribed to Poetry Magazine for years now, so I receive the inspiration in the mail now.

Certain music will inspire poetry, especially some of the world music, Paul Simon's "Graceland", Paul Adams "Global Bop...", some of Trent Reznor's stuff will, the entire Left CD on Fragile is inspiring.

.\
.
 
insomnia pulls the panties from my muse
I can only write when she is a bare ass
sexy artists draw her a bath
some poets just blow and it all falls away

what inspires me to write?
the desire to be eaten alive
eyes last so I can watch it all
I marinade my body with poetry
wooden mallet tender I wait for you
dear reader to confess your hunger to me,
to feast slow simmer skin first
 
Greg's Inspirations

I am inspired by the synchronicity of minute events, like the tiny splashes of water in the bathroom at work that only land on my pants in such a way as to give the impression that I peed myself.

I am inspired by women, exalted by their presence, such that I place them high on a pedestal above me. And what a view!

I am inspired by music. Specifically, week-long Buddhist sativada iron bell cantatas. And bluegrass.

I am inspired by the human soul. The more of them I eat, the more inspiration I store up, to be later unleashed in a frightful vortex of vengeance upon my enemies.

Oh, and Red Bull.

Mostly Red Bull.
 
The poem I want to write is never the poem that spills from my fingers.

Some days I'm fortunate and something really good comes forth but all too often, it's crud and I wait for another poem I want to write.
 
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