A place for poems and pics
Inside a Book
My bookshelves are filled with
sweet dreams of many poets.
The content of each book is
the beating of a writer’s heart,
pumping with inky fervor,
guiding me into a world where
we will meet soul to soul.
A place where one thought is doubled
and my muse finds another that suits
its tender essence
Weekend Mini-Challenge: Out of Your Own Words
I’m using the line, solitude is my friend, from my poem Simply Me
~
Friendship
solitude is my friend
she sits quietly beside me
holding my hand
whispering in my ear
telling me my words matter
solitude is my friend
she nudges my muse
into wakefulness when
morning slips through
the kitchen window
solitude is my friend
she sits quietly beside me
as night steals the light
comforting me with her presence
until sleep taps me on the shoulder
d’Verse – May ’17
Quadrille – echo
De has us listening for echoes over at d’Verse Poets Pub
~
PAD Aftermath
there is nothing left
an empty chamber
cleared of words, rhymes
no letters lying about
ink blots flung on the walls
no thought or even ideas
can be found rattling around
my muse is on hiatus
not even an echo of a poem remains
dVerse Poetics: Muse Mixology
De has us mixing it up with “bar” terminology this week. Cheers!
Did I mention – in just 33 words, or less!
~~
Beginning Over
she hung her three sheets to (flap in) the wind
dry on the rocks
she had spritzed away her old life
hammered out each sour fleck of him
kamikazed old rum memories
Transforming with Nature’s Wonders
Hannah has challenged us to find a quote to tickle our muses. Here’s one from Bob Dylan
“I can be jubilant one moment and pensive the next, and a cloud could go by and make that happen.”
~ Bob Dylan
___
Turning
my muse was hiding among
the gathering clouds
pouting,sullen,and dusky
when slowly a patch
of blue elbowed through
and I,
like a flower,
turned toward the sun
I’ve got
nothing
I sat in the kitchen
at the antique table
with my paper and
favorite pen at the
ready
nothing
I moved to the living
room and sat in
the plaid over-stuffed
chair with my journal
and a #2 pencil
nothing
I went to the dining
room and sat quietly
in the dark, waiting
nothing
Up the steps
counting each one
and into my bedroom
and there curled up
under the patchwork
quilt, snoring gently
I found my muse
—-
Over at d’Verse it’s Poetics – Room With or Withour a View
rhymeswithbug 