Losing my Muse

I lost my Muse in July 1987.  I still hope she might come back one day. It seems unlikely now. Let me explain.

I am in constant pain, aching all over, exhausted. With brain-fog. Over-sensitive to light, sound, smell, chemicals, heat, cold. Like having the flu coming on every day. For almost thirty years.

It’s M.E./CFS they said. No cure. I tried to fight. It fought back harder. Rest they said. That failed, also.

My body became a prison. I lost social life, fitness, hobbies, music, art, creativity. Without energy my world shrank. Mainly down to a sickroom, bed and books. I underwent an ordeal of disappearance. Without the strength to stop it happening.

I grew used to this limited existence until 2014, when I was hit by vertigo. Not spinning: but constant unpredictable sensations of motion. Over two years on a fairground ride I cannot get off.

Following rapid weight loss it was discovered that my pancreas was failing. Very weak and ill: I worried about the fate of creative work, lying unseen in various drawers and files. I had no-one to leave it to. I thought I could try making a blog as a kind of memorial to my lost life.

So the previous posts are my total poetic output before illness hit my brain. Thus the Muse withdrew from me after I wrote of her visit. Though I may not have written well, I wrote from inspiration. That has gone. And I miss it.

I wrote this to explain the lack of more recent work on this blog. I still write a little, but not poems.  Since I began with Poetry, I have put it here first.

I want to thank everyone for the “likes” on my poems. (I did not get any comments, however, hence I am not actually sure of what it was that others liked about them.)

I hope readers will be kind enough to continue to visit my blog as I transition into posting prose: experimental writing, philosophy, ideas and opinions.

 

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