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Tomorrow's Muse

Nsisong Effiong21 May 2012
With determination, the sun wakes to chase the moon away, dusts her seat and seeths with mild fury. Wake to taunts of the birds In their carefree symphony Why snuggle under sheets when the cock drops from his roost, shakes the dew away and calls the warriors to their lines
They trudge on in the heat and shivering rain packs laden with their microcosmic hopes Some begging surcease from bryzantine task and master In exchange for her sibilant brew and illusory orts There is no escape from this struggle March or forever trash in this dungeon For tomorrow could be our every gain, our joy and our ebullient dreams from yesterday
The song is droning to the final chime as darkness lays out her crinkly robes and begins to numb with her soporific gaze So we fail to see how slippery the road has become Do not miss this step of doom Comrade no! Yonder lies the weary wreath For the brow that stood the dulling ache
Alas the end – trumpet I hear not Just the sign on this yellow wood Future’s bright ahead Rest awhile comrade, ‘tis just another phase
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Responses10 responses
Nsisong Effiong27 May 2012

The pleasure is all mine to have you stop by. Hope the bite would make at least a mouthful

Susan L Daniels27 May 2012

oh, it did--will be chewing on this for a while!

Noel Ihebuzor21 May 2012

The cycle of life! The brightness, spriteness, gaiety , lightness and musicality of the first stanza soon give way to words and imageries of gloom (trudge, no escape, droning) till exit - wreath and yellow wood. A good poem but one that depresses in the end with its view of life, living and dying - but a good poem all the same!

Ike Amadi21 May 2012

soporific gaze.

Nice poem. Loved it. Keep writing, bro!

Nsisong Effiong21 May 2012

Highly appreciated

oberschlesien21 May 2012

nel
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Kabolobari22 May 2012

I can't bring the pieces together, not from searching for meaning, but from wanting to be "hit."

Yet, must I always be hit? I do think I must be hit though to judge a particular piece excellent, for I do judge of myself an arbiter, even the arbiter, the most accurate!

I hoped to be taken somewhere surreal and alluring by tomorrow's muse that presented herself tonight, and yet I couldn't!

I'll just pass this on, Nsisong!

Nsisong Effiong22 May 2012

Thank you for your comment

Nsisong Effiong23 May 2012

Maybe it's a trade-off and do you consider that 'maybe' surrealism would not have been in tandem with the realism of the meaning...maybe, maybe...

Susan L Daniels27 May 2012

Very nice poem, dense with images I could bite into. Glad I stopped for a visit.

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