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Traci Sims Oct 20
My muse is fickle at times,
Nagging me when I'm busy
Doing the real world,
Taking a bubble bath when I need her most...
Take heed of the deafening scream of silence echoing within the chasm of your soul.
If your muse chooses you
use it’s brute truth to fill in the hole.
Just don’t think yourself reckless
when its from poison from which you flee
only to run to
what calls you
from a banquet of vaccines
within the colour of your dreams.
Take heed,
take heed,
My darling
take heed
of all snarling beasts
that hold festering feasts
when your heart begins to bleed,
Lest you let loose with sick spry
the distinguished disguise
for you damp, saddened eyes
s y kalindara Oct 18
I laid my pen and line to rest for twenty seasons
as the frost settling in my mind and fingers, warmed up to dream
only to waken again by the grace of a lover,
a muse unlike any other,
a kaleidoscope of raining colours.

With the twinkling of your eyes,
the words fell out of my head,
parading on papers for the world to see
just as my veins welcomed the warmth of creativity.

You are the vision behind every verse I'm founding,
thirteen in counting,
a finer motive than fresh air and tranquil sleep
every fibre is clawing at me to keep you close
to never fade away like a withering rose.

Will my senses still serve me without your touch?
Will I ever write again if I let myself forget
the melody of your voice and your silhouette?
I'm not ready to find out just yet.

We have taken a vow, my pen and I
to keep you alive, for an age or two
or however long it might take to find
our glory in someone new.

Copyright © 2020 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Thinking about how I stopped writing for 5 years until I met Jordan and he inspired me in ways I didn't think possible. I'm still writing because of him, and about him. I feel like I can't let go, that I'll disgrace his memory if I do.
Summer Oct 16
distant is the faerie light and bar music,
quiet is the soft thrumming of your heart
against my fingertips —
speaking a language of old dreams
and poignant powder scent
sweet is the viscaria tinted in innocent pink,
twirling in the cup of my palm, asking —
"would you dance with me?"
I am posting poems with pictures to better conjure the imagination in my poetic instagram account! You can find me in @xsummerblues if any of you are interested :)))
Summer Oct 15
Fickle is the
swirling haze of purple clouds
whispering phantom pleasure of a fleeting crowd
soft lilac and sorrowful wisteria
musing with the late spring’s hysteria
I am posting poems with pictures to better conjure the imagination in my poetic instagram account! You can find me in @xsummerblues if any of you are interested :)))
Whilst I took a siesta in green pastures,
I beheld countless stairs, leading to distinct windows
Hammered within our skydome like stars;
Containing divergent dreams,
Tasted by seas of men since the buds of
Until our present time.

Where might i sojourn to seek
Refuge through thy veils, away
From the muddy hooves that tread my mind?

Drag me back to where i am most content,
To an endless stream brimming with glad tidings;
Living myths wed with
Thy finest pleasures as
I venture through this familiar paradox,
Manifesting the lust of my heart.

But alas, a request this is which cannot be,
For my place is earth;
A world so cold
Too harsh for me.
Rhys Hebbs Oct 13
If you hear the insatiable whispers of your calling
beckoning you forward,
within the dark depths
of sleepless attempts at slumber-
If it keeps you staring up at the ceiling
long past the dawn
with threatening thoughts
which only the pawns of failure spawn-
then use the fuel of the pursuers whom
came before you,
coupled with your own unique integrity,
and drive,
to bring into being that which you cannot go a day without thinking about.
Believe in Yourself
as much
as you believe in your Hell
for You will be dead a long time-
do not dawdle.
Your Muse chooses You
as much as You choose your Muse.
You owe it the nobility of pursuit
in exchange for the simple comfort
which the essence of being offered a way out of meaninglessness direction brings.
(This is the gift all Muses present you with.
It is symbiosis in its most poetic form.)
You cannot prevent your Muse choosing You,
no more than your Muse can prevent
You from not pursuing it
with all the tenacious ambition it deserves.
So love and cherish your Muse as it were your mother,
along with all the hopeful dreams it brings with it.
It chose you for a reason.
Marco Rigau Oct 11
Sometimes the muses gift you with inspiration, meters tall
Sometimes they curse you with none at all.
The muse's presence can be a blessing and a curse,
But I'd still prefer that over the reverse
Ember evening, summers night,
Burnt sienna
Painted upon our sky.

A clement sigh beneath a tree,
Upon a hill, in complete solitude.
In the midst of gloom, i lay my head,
On flocculent petals, stained with guerlain.

In awe i am towards thy surrealistic canvas,
Counting nameless stars;
Far but close our naked eyes and
Remote planets, taunting us in plain sight
Who dwell in cosmoses grand halls,
Seated on nothing attended
By celestial slaves.

I weep dismay,
For our astronauts aided by science,
Holds no invite,
Their grant denied.
Rhys Hebbs Sep 27
Like Christ I was betrayed by a kiss
The best kiss I ever wasted
The one delayed with a wish
The last I never tasted
Twas the sublime decline of the un-divine find from the mine within my mind
My new muse fused with pure white beacons of truth;
It was love.
It is love.
It will always be love.
Until the bodhisattva’s of bohemia are free to leave in peace,
Until the unbloomed seek what their enlightened prophets beseech.
When the the ****** find nirvana by practice of kinder hearted karma
Then and only then the world will know peace
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