I am writing a series of poems just now inspired by Scottish folklore.
The Gaelic Muse or Leanhaun Shee (Fairy Mistress) seeks the love of mortals. She inspires her lovers, who are poets and other creative types, but feeds on their lives, so they waste away. She is also restless and impatient so her lovers die young, presumably once they have exhausted their usefulness.
If you fall for the Gaelic Muse you are hers, but if you resist her she must be your slave. The only way to escape her is to find her a suitable replacement. Even after death there is no escaping her unless she lets you go.
The Gaelic Muse
She tempts them at first with her Gaelic charm
A havering man said to me
Creative souls always succumb and disarm
So beware of her nature carefree
Inspiring words spoke for a chosen few
It’s symbiotic love tho’, Feeding on the likes of you
Making poets her own
Their Imagination takes flight
Stirring songwriters’ senses
Fixating through the night
Feuling their passion to bespoke her a song
So to her they’re connected and will evermore belong
Or resist like the legend
She must submit, be a slave
Turning virtuous types into chancers and knaves
But those undoubted advantages, and ill-gotten gains
End with certain demise as she devours and then drains
Every brilliant mind spark ‘til a masterpiece is written
Too weak to escape tho’, already forever smitten
Unless a suitor is sourced as a suitable replacement
A wilful subscriber to her life of containment
Impatient she’ll stay to complete one final task
Disappears when that besotted face is cov’rd with a death mask
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