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Muse Stories


The Muse

I couldn't tell whether the sunset streamed Into her eyes or flowed out of them.

The Muse (Raanana, March 31, 2019) I feel a bitter pleasure in remembering that day In the forest outside our small village. I was walking down a leafy path Toward the little lake where I would sit By the water with my back against a smooth rock To make s...

Forgive This Poem

Sometimes it’s not what you think.

This poem will start with an “I’m sorry” But it will not be meant  Because yes it hears the birds chirping And sees the flowers sway in the warmed breeze The sun is shining upon its face But the same sun burns and ages the skin   The heart of this poem do...

Another Unedited Musing

It's unedited. Enjoy it, or whatever.

I’m not entirely sure I like you.Everything here is too bright and too dark. It’s a fucking paradox and it doesn’t make any sense.It doesn’t even make paradoxical sense.Like, why am I sitting here typing this? My hands are betraying me.The wind is harsh,...

Spare parts

Who has ever touched the well of ink with no fear that his thirst will stay insatiable?

Some certain ransom in this agony, To write, to tell, recount, recite… That majesty of lying and signing that purified fraud a story is, How shameless could be asking a poem ask you things instead of me, And who is me? Some certain freedom in this rhapsod...

I pick up my pen and paper to write, but my head is blank, empty of words. Blank like a clean lonely slate that will never know the pleasure of words written on it for company, empty like the hollowness of nothing. I feel like a soul still searching for p...

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A Writer's Lament

What's a gal to do when her muse disappears?

My muse has gone missing! She just up and left. Abandoned, alone... I'm confused and bereft. I've looked high and low, But she's not to be found. Dagnabit! Why, oh why, did she Have to go underground? The world slows to a crawl When my muse isn't here. Pl...

The heavy feelings of a transitional state of mind.Channeled into meaningsfor personalities of any kind. Enabler, healer of the soulher fickle emotions, enticingly wayward.Sexually lofty, deviously foulinciting poets, never awkward. Lamenting lord of dark...

Love Thoughts on a Sunday morning

random thoughts on a Sunday morning

Love Thoughts on a Sunday Morningwaking to a quiet bed my mind races to youwishing hoping for a call from my loverI turn to you begging for a call a minute is allmy heart with feel as a minute turns to eternity to hear your sweet voice as if church bells...