My muse must be a man! Sometimes i imagine him on an expensive private island, just soaking up the sun and smoking a Cuban cigar. Totally oblivious of the fact that we are a team and we have words to string out and a world to change.

Muse is inspiration, every human being needs a muse but it seems those blessed with madness of the pen tend to hold on to it tightly than the rest of the world. A muse could be hidden in words, in positive and negative vibes, in the eyes of a loved one, in the eyes of hate, etc. But then there’s a question of who controls who? Does the writer summon muse anytime its needed or does muse show up unexpectedly? No matter your answer to the questions, muse should not be an excuse for poor writing or no writing at all, or could it be?-Omolola
Muse has become pretty much a confusing mention,not to mention that it has everyone thinking it’s abstract, obscure or elusive when in actuality, muse is a blank page filled with scripts of hieroglyphs waiting to be fingered.

Muse is that little child with a bullet to the head who knows he’s gonna die and crying wouldn’t change a lie. Muse is that hot cup of tea that is mistaken for an iced cup of juice, that it burns your memory and dumps wisdom in an ash tray. Muse is abuse when an explanation is buried with a punch to your mouth, and your teeth scurry to hide in different directions.

The only thing supernatural about muse is the fact that it is you.
Muse can be found in Happiness Street, with the birth of a baby, a stable economy, and a father dying in peace still. – Leon
A muse is something or someone that touches your soul without touching you, such that they impregnate your mind with little seeds and walk you through the process to the birth of beautiful art like words; sad and true.

My muse is when a smile from the depth of your stomach and through your eyes to the depth of my soul birth words that are synonym to precious stones.

Acts of hurt to and from a place of love.
That’s me to you and you to me, my muse is us; this place of love. – Hybrid
Those times i bask in the peaceful ambiance of a beautiful terrain, the green carpet grass, tall trees forming a canopy, birds chirping a restful melody, I get my muse. Sometimes lyrics the wind brings forth through my ears cause me to spill a lot of ink on paper as though possessed by one of the daughters of Zeus. Those heart-melting stories and movies that cause me to boil with emotions, sending a gush of adrenaline through my limbs to do the magic. And of course, the thoughts of that special someone makes my pen know no drought.

So I won’t just call my muse a person, place or a feeling, but all of it in entirety. What ever causes my pen to bleed the thoughts in my head and heart is my muse.-Hijab Gurl
Mine came with a tapered smile, like the rushing of the wind as leaves rustle and crunch below a tree. Swifter than Taylor Swift.

When words elude me, from it springs inspiration, my prison my release. Flaming words like blazing swords, trapped in a fusion of alphabets. My muse at the centre playing magistrate and witness, pronouncing my judgement and setting me free.

It has always been one and the same, drawing the sweetness and bitterness from within. It’s amusing how sometimes we don’t speak, no letters to read. Then you emerge like a pregnant storm, bearing wonders am left to lust after.-Vera

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