Some days the sun sets
And I’m glad it’s over
My smile won’t stay on
Any longer
I want to close the door
On the last of the burning rays
Shut myself away
Hunker down in the cool shadowy places of my house
The golden floorboards
Silk beneath my feet
The smell of oils
Greeting me
As I walk into my writing room
Sink
And let the poetry flow
Why does it do so easily
When my mood is jagged and broken?
Like a soothing friend
My muse lies back
on the old blue couch
Crosses her odd socks
Taking me in
Dictating comforting things
And as I write
The gloom evaporates
My veins run clean
The sluggish toxins removed
Half an hour later
I can almost be induced
To smile again
A little time with the muse
Is all a poet ever needs
Oh yes, I can completely relate. My muse loves solitude too, and moreover, she loves a warm shower, maybe a little too much sometimes🤪
Hahah we have our processes 🙇♀️
“The sluggish toxins removed” – This came alive to me. What an emotive piece of writing. We’re rolling 👊✌️❤️
💥 😊
I can say that the same thing happens to me! Beautiful images and lovely words! I truly admire your poetry and your poetic temperament and vision, the true signs of an artist, besides hard work! My greetings and all the best to you,
From Spain,
FBC
High praise – your paintings are beautiful! Thankyou.
Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. All the best and have a pleasant evening…(Well, it is evening in Europe) 🙂
Morning here now – I love that I can be in contact with people from all over the world. Larger perspectives.
Absolutely! Great, take good care and all the best,
FBC
Your muse and her odd socks 🙂 Love that. I picture them mis matched and full of color. Your muse brings the color back…….
This is how I feel with my camera, speaking of which, I haven’t used in over a week, that’s just no good…….
No it is just no good – I love your photos
Yes, exactly, you say it so well, Kate ❤️🤗
Oh yes. I can attest to this. The solitude can sometimes bring out the melancholy in us, but when we have something like writing, we can get it out of us and feel a little lighter.
I don’t know what I would do without writing Sarah – it is my everything.
Sigh. I understand.
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A beautiful poem. I write to heal as well. Poetry is healing
Poetry is extremely healing – I think it is because it works with the subconscious mind rather than the analytical one.
Absolutely! I just let it flow and see where it goes
Yes and it’s so surprising what it tells you