The fairy tale begins deep in the magic woodland. The story unfolds in poetic form as The Little Sprout tries to find his path in life. What will he decide to do? What will he become? What would you do, if you were a sprout? Fully colorized, featuring art by Muse.
Be still the moonlight in harbor’s dim
A tepid mongrel soul does serendipitously swim.
I flutter neath life’s mortal sleep ~
Faithfully keeping secrets of the deep.
Long ago in ages of innocent youth
A heart was tied, entangled ~ not aloof.
My love was given as the wind ~
Freely floating without end. We danced in meadows filled with green
Our private clover guarded and unseen.
We planted seeds that broke the soil ~
Some were fruitful ~ others spoiled. Two souls united ~ or so I thought
We dwell in sunlight where we ought.
Dark social noblemen shunned from our sight ~
Nary did we mourn our peasantry plight. The days passed as days must do and our love
Was discovered and was tested for the truth.
It was Medusa in her garden of blackness bitter born ~
Who whispered to her lover, ‘I shall attack at morn’.
So she bade us welcome with her serpent’s demonic hiss
We recoiled instantly with a sight such this.
Medusa whispered in your ear all your hurts,
your horrors, your fears.
United we stood firmly in the light ~
Daring not to pass from our meadow into Medusa’s black of night.
She watched us with beady eyes that swayed a reptilian dance
Little by little, I felt your body waver in a metronomic trance.
She smiled wickedly and with a darting of her tongue ~
She softened her hissing to a liar’s preening hum.
She sung to you all your joys, your wants, your hopes and spoils
And your love flickered but for an instant ~
but indeed the deed was done.
For in that one moment of betrayal, Medusa’s seduction
had now won.
She pulled you to her meadow where pestilence was seed ~
And harvest was the human hearts from which we all bleed.
I stood at the meadow’s gate mourning in the sun ~
While you my love were gnawed upon the deceit of the one.
With sword in hand I charged forth ~ To grapple in the bleak ~
To traverse all of hell for the true love I seek.
But nay…my victory was not to be ~
For as I raised my blade, your voice contently bade me stay ~
Your hands unyielding, held my armament at bay.
This tale will not find me in Dante’s dark abode ~
And though I am dead, I am no longer alone.
For Neptune and Poseidon, gave me shelter from the green.
I await the gates of heaven as I swim within the sea ~
And though I am forgiven ~ From your love I shall never be free.
LOVE is the very essence of emotion. Succinctly defined love is; “extreme affection” that hardly seems to encompass its vastness. Anthesis is a menagerie of love; savoring the beauty of words, luxuriating in the plethora of imagery they evoke. Anthesis, a book of sonnets is accompanied by full color art and includes many original Muse works. Peek into the mind of Muse beyond her written word.
Note: these kind words below were penned by Earl M. Coleman
(poetic friend and mentor-1916-2009-you are truly missed)
Biography for Muse, Pansylee VanMeteren of Poetic Pastries ~ WV poet, lyricist, author and artist, who creates under the nom de plume, The Muse (Muse), daughter of a deceased American naval officer, she currently resides in the South Branch Valley of WV United States.
Early in her career, Muse engaged her skills for technical purposes, such as document translation and schematic visualizations for government entities. She continued to write and paint poetically, in secret, using her pen name, Muse. An inner compass is evident in her work. Pieces reflect both past and present dilemmas; while showcasing her victories in overcoming these obstacles ~ all from her faith based perspective. Light touches of modernism play hand in hand with old world strokes, offering highly visceral readings. In 2010, a genesis compilation of Muse, Enigmatic Evolution, gave rise to her poetic voice.
Muse’s creations are predominately lyrical often resulting in poetic sonnets and fairytale like art. Lengths of work vary from simple and compact poetry to elaborately complex pieces. Thematically her writing pattern engages an autobiographical subtext. Structurally the Muse’s works involve a blend of poetry and prose. Elegantly fluid sentence formation creates an often old world environment. Highly figurative language is used extensively throughout her work. The paintings and drawings of Muse waltz hand in hand with her own words. The children’s story ~ The Little Sprout, offers up a prime sample of this blending.
A paradox of a woman, her hands are calloused and reverent. They have painted canvases, molded clay, charted geo-spatial trajectories, engineered software, washed puppies, and scrubbed floors. They have wiped away tears and folded in prayer. They have fired missiles and cradled babies. She is known to be gaming wordsmith offering her readers in social media brain teasers and poetic ponderings. The Muse proudly claims a kaleidoscopic ancestry of Irish, English, Scottish, French, German and American Indian. Since her youth, she has been fluent in several languages. An avid bibliophile and logophile, The Muse continues her passion by immersing herself in the written word of various genres. She adores word games especially Scrabble.
A self proclaimed lover of life, The Muse, celebrates by inspiring those around her. She is married to her first love; is a mother, and a nanny (grand-mother). The Muse resides with her family on an American Heritage Farm, which has been in their family for over 200 years. Her poetic and artistic ingenuity flows from the inspirational South Branch Valley of WV.