She’s a tough nut to crack, Nevertheless, I plug away, I plug away Though my key resists the lock no Matter which way I twist and turn and push. I consider the lock and whether my key is Round enough at the edges, if I am Thrilled enough to push on or if my Pocketful of keys is lackadaisical and Lacks the verve to ignore … Continue reading Poetry, O Poetry
Still, unmarred, nothing spoils the tension of its surface; no disturbance in graceful spreading waves, no waterbugs to dance, entrance, engage the eye, no underneath, no rules exactly scribed to guide the cutting shears; Perfect in shape and thickness, intended as a tool, aged in desperate need, useless as a fool; Spilled upon its surface then, in circles, cuts, and symbols, springs from mind, craving-driven … Continue reading Craving – Poetry by Will
Curled up in ringlets Electric parts of you, Shoulder length distractions Thoughts are all askew, Hope for sleep abandoned Your pillow’s made for two, Nose to nose connection Our favored point of view. Random touches, random whispers, Fingers playing finders keepers, Hidden fragrance in your smile, Let me breathe you for a while. Chastened by your virtue Encouraged by your sighs Midnight flame rekindled My … Continue reading Curled Up In You
Roger Bannister, the first athlete to break the four-minute mile, said this about his record-breaking run: “The world seemed to stand still, or did not exist. The only reality was the next 200 yards of track under my feet. The tape meant finality–extinction perhaps. I felt at that moment that it was my chance to do one thing supremely well. I drove on, impelled by … Continue reading On Writing, and the Four-Minute Mile
This post from Ana. P. Rose inspired me. Art is truth. Telling the truth is art. When the rejections roll in and it seems like nobody likes your story; when it seems like your work is going nowhere; when you feel like giving up and smashing the keyboard, remember you are an artist and you are writing the truth. Van Gogh’s success came only after … Continue reading Dear Artists, by Ana P. Rose
Such a lovely work I will read again and again. Enjoy! There will come a time when flowers bloom in the corner of minds and earth springs from fingertips as new life forms and the old withers away what a world what a beautiful today. Reblogged from Earth Eyes — G. de Suys Continue reading On Poetry; Earth Eyes, by G. de Suys
I love this! I feel like I’m in the scene. Ken’s art is wonderful! via Cricket – Exit — seedsinmotiontruthnart Continue reading Cricket – Exit, by Ken Riddles
I knew you had something on your mind When you had nothing much to say; When you spoke I could feel the worry, You nearly lost your way; I read the breath between your words For what I hoped I wouldn’t find; There’s always something left unsaid When we’re trying not to be unkind. I searched the places in your head Where you run from … Continue reading The Breath Between Her Words
Originally posted on Writers Envy:
I read music in your eyes, Delicate chorale filled your voice, The melody of your soul, Breathed hymn into my life; Each movement measured note by note, Dancing fingers played across my keys, ‘Twas not a symphony filled the silence, But a quartet caressing strings; Hosannas rose into the night, Angelic host proclaimed, Cantata filled my ears, Notes kissed me… Continue reading The Melody Of Your Soul
Cubism Angles Corners Planes Perspective Front Back Side Side Up Down Above Beneath Inside Outside Around Within Without Through Trans-dimensional Complex Permeable, Impenetrable Fixed, Moving Opaque, Transparent Open, Closed Masked, Unmasked Active, Still Lost, Alert Quiet Quiet Quiet Loving, Hurtful Laughing, Crying Frowning, Smiling Joyful, Sad Gloomy, Gleeful Ecstatic, Pained Tears joyful Tears hurtful Tears sad Tears Tears Tears Tears Tears Smiling Loving Angry Loving … Continue reading Cubism
Funny that, how the heart bursts the same way in grief and love. Continue reading Heartbrache
I am surrounded by nincowpoops, maroons, and gullibulls. Of course, I realize the guy sitting next to me is saying the same thing. Continue reading Looney Tuned
I’m not too keen on today’s technology. I love having the library at my fingertips, the history of Rock and Roll on my iPod, and The Great Masters’ masterpieces as my background. Sometimes, though, I feel technology advances too fast, too fast for people to keep up. Technology has made us run when we should walk, look down when we should look up, ignore others … Continue reading Superman
I don’t often listen to music while I write. I find it distracting. It isn’t that I don’t like music, indeed, I love music and have rather eclectic tastes. I enjoy most genres. My music of choice while writing though, is silence. Silence has its own sound. The sound of the story taking shape in my mind. When I write and enter “the zone,” I … Continue reading Writing Music, or, Music to Write By
William? Yes, Susanna? Why are people so angry? Why are people so angry? Yes. Why are people so angry? Why do you ask, Susanna? Because, William, I see angry people everywhere, and it hurts me. How does it hurt you? Anger hurts my heart. Why does it hurt your heart? Because anger gets in the way of love, William. It does, Susanna? Yes, William. How … Continue reading Susanna Avila VII
I long for intimate conversation Two people, Leaning over cups of coffee. A small table in the coffee house Around the corner. Eyes only for each other, Oblivious to the buzz of life surrounding them. She smiles. I love the way her lips curl, The delicate filigree of her ear, Revealed when she brushes her hair back, The fragrant puff of breath as she laughs … Continue reading The Coffee House Around the Corner
There are times when writing is like a drug. I’m focused. I’m in the zone. The story pours from my mind in a waterfall made of words. I tremble from excitement as I step into the scene. I become the character, I smell the air, hear the traffic, touch her skin, hear her voice. Magic. The spell consumes me. I’m so happy I shed tears. Continue reading The Spell
Larger than life, standing astride the threshold of the birth of a great civilization. Behind, the bucolic life of a shepherd bounded by faith, ritual, and history. Beyond, the fathering of a new age mothered by faith, ritual, and history. Betwixt past and future, the present, a looming, gigantic presence threatening annihilation and erasure from history. An obstacle of hesitation, uncertainty, fear. To flee means to cringe and crawl, … Continue reading David
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