Cunning Calliope

A Sonnet for Poppy

By D. J. ReddallPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

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Without a muse, a poet cannot sing

An empty jug contains no trace of oil

Frustrated are those, nourishment seeking

From vessels empty, despite farmers' toil

Inspiration allows sweet breath divine

To enter lungs mortal and fallible

Thus to foolish exhalations refine

And dying mouths utter words immortal

Calliope, you taught Homer to sing

Of Helen's beauty and Priam's despair

Of Achilles, who made art of killing

Of Odysseus' cold, indignant glare

Through you, epics of gods and heroes tell

Inspired by you, voices rose and fell

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This poem was prepared in response to Poppy's provocative prompt; you can find more information about her latest bouquet of them below:

I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.

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