He stands alone, strong and brave,
he creates a creative impulse inside of me,
that I can't explain.
His eyes speaks to me, SILENCE......
soul searching his eyes send tremors
thoughout my soul like a shockwave.
He quenches my poetic thirst,
putting in words emotions that can't be rehearsed,
he allows my poetic side to be gently nursed.
My male muse......speaks to me in silence,
no words yet forever speaking out loud.
He is the words, in which I create,
he allows my words to inflate,
my males muse in him I can relate.
Apart from everyone else he stands alone strong and
brave, he is the male muse of music,
I'm a poet whose sword is yet but a pen,
that seeks and then see's the words,
my male muse is elusive.
My male muse a weapon that holds power
above anyone else,
a weapon that is never under lock and key,
instead he continues to inspire me, from now til death,
from now til eternity.