The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

ISSN 2249 2178


Volume-3                                                      DECEMBER -2013                                           Number-2



          by Sarah Brown Weitzman

          Will there ever be a moment

when the drag of the moon

          checks completely the pull

of the sun and earth

          a moment of equipoise.

a moment when the sirens

          cease to sing?


          No, it can never be.

The sea rocks restlessly

          unable to resist its longing

for the opposite shore

          holding but never keeping.








 by Sarah Brown Weitzman


I must live at the high-sea line

To keep a check on raiding tides

For less and less juts the land

Along our shores.


Like those who did not favor fire

I think I know how this will end.

The seeming solid earth will sink

Beneath increasing seas


And the whole globe, drenched

In day no more, will wait beneath

An empty socket of sun freezing

In the dark.  Then ice will win

Both land and sea despite the slow

Sure melt of eternity.