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Sonnet To My Muses

I stopped writing at the age of twenty.
The Poetry, I thought, had no future
Like a women living close to black holes,
And her light would become myself a dark person.

My friends celebrated the extinction of my muses.
They said that Neruda would die of natural causes,
That the progress would be with weapons to the shoulder,
Full of shining caverns, and The History would reach its end.

But my muses always survive with passion,
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Friday, January 1, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: remembrance
Ratnakar Mandlik 01 January 2016

Superb! I felt that I was reading my own story. I too had suppressed my muses for a long time due to various reasons. They have, however, resurfaced at opportune time. Pl read my poemYouth at Sixty whenever you can., and give your precious comments on it. Regards. Ratnakar Mandlik

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