When Death Becomes Your Only Muse

Poem By Robert L. Bixler III

When death becomes your only muse
How does one continue to write?
Year by year, you begin to lose
The love of life and quest for right.
Cold, heartless and cynical
You feel yourself becoming evermore
A calculated emotional cannibal.
Days of romance become forever lore.
Your gaze turns from full of life,
As the sun’s rising breath
Brings end to chilly night strife,
And turns toward morbid death.
How does one write of love's abuse
When death becomes your only muse?

Comments about When Death Becomes Your Only Muse

Yes, I did want to say those lines.... 'calculating emotional cannibal' and 'sun's rising breathe' The calculated emotional cannibal is representative of my feeling that I have begun to lose the ideals of romanticism and love that I have had. I feel that as I progress towards my career goals, and as of yet have not felt love's embrace, I am becoming more critical and cautious. Which as a Naval Officer (soon to be) I will need to be. As for the sun's rising breathe, it is simply that moment when the sun's light begins to brighten the night night sky and, thusly, changes it to morning. The best way I can think of to describe it, is to ask that you read Robert Frost's 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' Thank you very much for reading -RLB III
Did you want to say calculating emotional cannibal? and The sun's rising breath?

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Straight posture, her presence cedes
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Aimless, nervous eyes project.
Amorphous solid substance-elect
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As the cold seeps slowly in
And the warmth once there fades,
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Last Breathe

Dead head, molten lead, I have bled.
Captivating eyes, omenous skies, still she lies.
Power in three, terror of me, danger you can see.
Vile magick and you are so tragic.

Surely She Knows

I beckon to the ever rising sun,
Whose dawn casts golden hue,

Surely she knows…