Tag: #thesundaymuse

Is This How It Ends?

“Life moves very fast. It rushes from Heaven to Hell in a matter of seconds.”  ― Paulo Coelho Is this how it ends- This ripping away of wings leaving naught but two scrawny plumes and no way to soar?  Alone in the desert, left; a forgotten soulthrown… Continue Reading “Is This How It Ends?”

The Piano

Melodies no longer escape from ivory and ebony keys drifting out an open window on a summer breeze what once was alive in the garden now dying and grey, for when the music stopped life withered away Now there’s only traces of happier spring daysan intrepid red… Continue Reading “The Piano”

Indigo Herd

I dreamed of blue horses coursing through my scarlet veins, Lighting a burning fire within, stoking glowing ember flames They raced across a vast field of fertile thoughts and dreams Blue horses with no names, for nothing was as it seemed. When they paused to rest in… Continue Reading “Indigo Herd”

And Though the Caged Bird May Sing

And though the caged bird may singFilling my days with joyous song,No remorseful sorrow will followShould I embrace its sweet liberty,Setting this feathered soul free to “be”Unfurling delicate wingsTaking flight with a sighIn the cloudless morning sky dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille 121 Let’s Embrace… Continue Reading “And Though the Caged Bird May Sing”

A Chance In-Sight

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing Those in-between moments of time slipping, sliding in-out of shadowy light gone forever from fragile sightfading in-to foggy hazean in-finite gliding awayreality in-flux with fantasyvivid fluidity in-memoryticking, ticking off… Continue Reading “A Chance In-Sight”

Wishes For Tomorrow

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”  ― Eleanor Roosevelt I’ll not go rushing out into the world and saylook at me- I am alive! I survived!Rather, I’ll stay in my peaceful abode,brew a pot of herbal tea and… Continue Reading “Wishes For Tomorrow”

The Year of Whiting Grey

“How many loved your moments of glad grace,  And loved your beauty with love false or true;  But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,  And loved the sorrows of your changing face.”  ― William Butler Yeats, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats They say… Continue Reading “The Year of Whiting Grey”

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