I spied him briefly you know.
I'm of course referring to my muse,

and from what they say, (I'm on a need to know basis because there are many things I don't need to know.)
he simply bolted upright, got to his feet, and then headed straight for my brain;

where, I might add...he's been causing havoc ever since!
But, I digress; and quite simply try to do and look my best all of the time.

I have regular days where I do fall a "tad" short;
whatever a tad, is. It must be some increment of vague measure,

I walked without the laughter of the children
I felt empty, and so alone, the world may have ended
Please tell me I am wrong? I cannot see!
There seems to be an empty space in front of me.

Yesterday they were here, I heard them so
Please tell me what has made them go?
I cannot see it's hard for me to listen to emptiness.
Just tell me I am wrong and it won’t be long.
Before the children return.

A new look:-

When another makes the effort
To reach out and touch someone
There are ears that listen
To the message in all sum

No matter the rejection
Keep trying to be heard
Just try and try again
Someone reads your word

Loving and being loved
It’s not easy, so I’m told
In a world that does not hear
In a world that’s cold

There is warmth here, in some hearts
for those who pay attention
Just who they are and where
There is no need to mention

All he does is sit all day
before a window looking out,
what little hair he has is gray.
I wonder what he thinks about.

That window fronts on a small wood
there behind the nursing home.
He'd love to walk there if he could
as in his youth he used to roam.

But he is stuck in his wheel chair;
a stroke and bad hips keep him bound.
His eyes tell he'd rather be out there
beneath the trees on shaded ground.

words coinage

poetic
creativity
challenge
rhyme
rhythm
sound of music
praise self
by
others the vivacious:

in a foggy fjord
a monk, turned warlord,
was starcrossed
by a second fate
rightous victory waned
like cold crystal diamond fire
in the big blue ice

cue up despair
like a bitter old man

like the three sorrows
that are Jerusalem

like dark houses
in mourning and rembrance

time for the big empty

wait!
a plan
a daring escape
impetuous
but, for him, as inevitable as death for all others

The Wild Side Of Oblivion

Meet me on the wild side of oblivion
By shadowed moonlight
we can play at being what we will never be
by day

Smoke filled skies
essence of dust filled dreams
astride a pure white stallion
with lightening hooves

In fields of poppies and lavender
petals for a bed
there to sleep between rain drops
and be as one

Only on the wild side of oblivion

The narrative of the occlusion speaks
in the name of god
and judgment reeks of the heaven-sent.

The eye turns inward.

How can humans be so deluded when
they possess opposing thumbs? The
monkey hurls the bone and as if
scattering ants on an ancient tree
ready to break out in war
we choose our side aided by
the
complexity gene,
patterns within patterns within
nothing at all.

nebulous wandering
over epochs of eternities
time
heaping unto us
infinite
nows
gifting our becoming
interweaving
souls into a
wonder of miracles
orbiting aeons
rhythmically
tracing sketches and profiles of
heroes and heroines
manifesting in an
orgy of
revolution, turmoil
entities colliding
transmuting
happiness and sorrow
and in this particular
now
tide moved to encourage, and
hour
in its infinite wisdom
supported my plea, so

THE CONFESSIONS OF A SPIDER

I confess
The moment wasn’t my best
I sat down beside her
for I did lust for her curves
and waves.
as I made my way
to lay
my head upn her breats
suddenly a hand sent me
into a spin
and I could sin
no more

It's not easy being a spider
in love.