My Muse flits like a startled faun,
Tossing her noble head.
Cries out “We’re through!” Can it be true
I’ve said all to be said?
She’d earlier binned her laurels, taken
Up a thorny crown,
More of the bint’s unsubtle hints
Just trying to get me down.
At parties she would roll her eyes,
Spurn an Ambrosial snack,
Abjure a glass of Nectar, pass
Instead to smoking crack
She’d pout as we crashed book launches,
Get stuck into the drink,
Flirt, as a tease, with enemies,
Then vomit in a sink
Sneer at my toga as we’d waft
Through an Elysian grove,
Then slap cheese into tapestries
Which we together wove
Read out my verses mockingly, while
Plucking at a lyre
Then feed my scrolls throughout the hols
Onto a summer fire
And now she’s gone, gone with our owl,
Both hooting with derision.
Taken her chariot to a Marriott.
I honour her decision.
But shall her curses spoil my verses
Abandoned now by Muses?
On this boy plods! I beg the gods
To free me from these floozies!
I’ll sacrifice a goat tonight so
My verse won’t get ropier!
Her victory’s Pyrrhic! I’ll tease the Lyric
From my Cornucopia!
I won’t repine! Circean swine
Could not give me the blues!
Tore my raiment, made a down payment
On a mail order Muse.