Author Information
Unamusing Muse
Stony broke, Eyes like a lagoon
Encasing all the ills in the world
They slip onto her pillow like tiny diamonds
Tousled hair fallen around delicate shoulders
Boughed by regrets others have placed on them
They shudder and fall in union with her dreams
Inspirational, succint elaborate always listening
Dropped head on heart
Creativity soars from the soul of her, never finding its home
Floating in eternity, Lost within the unknown.
Secrets form in her mind
In others she sees with alarming clarity
she can read souls like her great grandmother read tea-leaves
Swirling the cup
Never helped her though.
In others she places her trust and love usually to have another poison arrow puncture her heart
Forgetting what she gives so openly is what she craves
She becomes chameleon like, the mother,the daughter, the mistress
Temptress. All become so unrelated from herself
She opens a grave of identities, to drop her virtues
They leave, happy, content, free, fresh to follow their dreams
Leaving their emotion tarnished, and their muse broken on the floor
Wanting so much to help herself bound with her own selflessness....................
Till the next frantic knocking at the door.
Wonderful!
Starward
Hey! Extra-oridinary! There is such "aloneness" here that it seems to call from the distance like a haunting wail heard only by the soul.
I keep moving along the path I call:'With Emptiness, Thirsting'.
You know me, I see and feel the "identities" as everything you are self moulded as a gift and rejected so that the majesty of their being is lost to eyes that cannot see.
So I find that alone place. Loved the use of the word "boughing" and its visual implication as it brought on the scene of the night and the tears.
You have begun to let your soul ravel, and in so doing are creating true masterpieces. ~Tim