<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460205" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Remembering the future</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Greeks said, those great Muses<br>who civilise us, grace our dance of life, <br>were once, before they were nine, <br>just three; and before that, <br>only one was named: and she was, Memory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Does that make poets just regurgitators<br>of what’s already been oft said -<br>and better, too, some would aver…? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, it’s more subtle than that; ask a poet: <br>a poem that comes warm, hot, from the human heart<br>demands a summary birth; won’t hang around<br>while you go out to buy more toys and frills<br>to hang around the cot…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is indeed, more like remembering: <br>as if you step into a timeless place<br>where all that’s needful is to remember<br>what the future poem shall, will, have said..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">write it down; and maybe sleep on it; <br>when you wake, you may remember<br>two lines somewhere which you’d forgotten, <br>but know exactly where that is…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Muse of memory will then decide<br>whether a poem that has a timeless birth, <br>may have a timeless life... or not...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How can a poet claim a poem as his, or hers, <br>when such a Muse? and yet, so close at hand?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460205" data-title="Remembering the future de Michael Shepherd" data-description="The Greeks said, those great Muses who civilise us, grace our dance of life, were once, before they were nine, just three; and before that, only one was named: and she was, Memory. Does that make poets just regurgitators of what’s already be..."></div> </div> </div>

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