I used to pray to God as I was taught
but it never seemed to work,
and why should He listen anyway —
like when disaster comes, all pray and
some are saved, they praise and thank the Lord
but what about the others that He didn’t save,
are they all sinners? No — it is absurd.
Yet I find I miss the act of prayer,
it used to be a comfort
in times of stress, so now I choose
to pray, but to my Muse, my anima,
that hidden inner person in my personality,
whom I am told for men is female and for women male.
My female Muse I have neglected in the past
but now I’m going to get to know her
if I can — so what’s her name?
I think it must be Hathor for she always was
my all-time favourite goddess in the pantheon
of ancient Egypt — a sort of lovely Jersey cow
with liquid melting eyes of love, and yet a lass
who likes to sing and dance and drink
to excess, she’s also fond of sex,
oh yes, She can be my Muse,
and I hope she’ll help me find some lovely poems too.
Pete Crowther
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anima-my-muse/
