The paper is empty. The pen lays alone. The words non-delivered. No anything shown. For how can I write now she’s walked away? My words have dried up. I have nothing to say. I needed her grace, her body, her mind, to show me the meaning of all that I find...
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Muse Stories
Consider me a-Mused
Writer with writer's block gets a visit form a muse.Standing about 5 foot 10 inches, and a bit husky, Daniel was ruggedly handsome with or with out his glasses and he had a hell of a winning smile and brown hair. Daniel sat at his desk in a dark office illuminated by the light of a screen, wracking his min...
I wanted you to have the option, and hoped you wouldn't take it, I want you to be happy, and excited and free to love, I want you to love me, and to do so of your own choosing. I want you to be dangerous, and risky and sometimes mysterious. How is it tha...
I kneel on dandelion carpets and weave lilacs between her rose and purple iris
I kneel on dandelion carpets and weave lilacs between her rose and purple irisI kneel on dandelion carpets and weave lilacs between her rose and purple iris, I assume avuncular circumspect over her horizon. Her sky sucks rain that swallows my smoldering sun. Tasmanian blue gum shadows sit restless in the river’s bend, Ornithes Arei...
The Sculptor and his Muse Part One
I want to see her entire body bare in it's magnificence and recreate it in clay.Friday December 9th 1910 A little after 6am. Somewhere in Paris... Don't know why I waited until last night to go down to the clay mill. I've known for days that I was low on clay and would need it by today. It's not like I dread digging it and hauling it...
Light Switch
Reflecting upon my muse.I really just don’t get it, I don’t get it at all.He said that he would look for me but ignored me when I called. Distant and rather hostile I didn’t really understand.What was this attitude coming from this formerly so sweet man? It was like a light swit...
Muse
Two people with remarkable similarities meet and their lives are transformed.It was one of those boring days again. John would make me sit as still as I could, and use me as he always did whenever he had a sudden epiphany to paint. “keep quiet and just help me, darling,” he would mutter whenever I made a peep of complaint, and he...