The Muse

inky veined

and muggy too

elementary words flowing through

I am the absence

you are the arrow

targeting this windblown sparrow

unambiguous are the moments

we become a secret creature

forming substance from seeming nothingness

plucking remembrances

from things branded in the brain

the violent acts of living, bleed inspiration

breathe words

from the one born of fire

buried by an earthen father in skin

again and again

union of spirit and flesh

resurrect this vessel’s ability to congregate thought

I am here

but a little while

I beg the stilled silence for oneness

whispers down the bone

creep into subconscious want

become again with me, a creature of beauty

raw symbiosis

we, with stuttered fingers

find each other’s pace, and the words come

slowly and surreal

we dance with black and white

pages of prose and poetic utterances

written by strangeness

creations borne of this madness

I am a writer

Linking up with OpenLinkNight @dVerse  Where Tashtoo has the bar. If poetic community is what you crave, join us you should, I'll buy you a verse ;-) 

Stilled and Silenced

there are no children to pull off freshly painted walls tonight,

no needy husband’s hands to fence with

this night belongs to being

in a noisy silence

autumnal evening sounds

assaulting ears bent toward quiet

cricket song and the last of the cicada concerto

remnantsof a living earth preparing

for the hibernation of retreating into oneself

linger here at the dusk of summer’s end

maples bowing low and heavy

offering palm sized leaves

only southern trees can grow

and hereI sit amongst the California red grapes

and their blended blissful bounty

in gratitude for their harvest

blue velvet sky bleeds violet lines

with the surrender of the sun

I am in silence

I am at rest

I am whole

the fearfulness of truth

with this, a tiny revelation comes

reflectively hidden in stars

strewn ‘cross the blackening sky

heralded by twilight’s whispered presence

bound to human rest

a Sabbath understanding

there is Holiness

in the simplicity of stillness

I am awake now

these quiet eyes do see

purpose in solo revelry

secrets tucked into my heart

like tissues in pillow cases

for moments of weeping

draw them out

during the dark night of the soul

for it always cometh

amidst it’s plight remember

this stillness and grope for peace

with muscle memory

cultivated in solitude

one by one

and become again

bound to quiet understanding

and begin with the hope

of dawn’s promised procession

crickets quiet, owls steal away

and with the son’s arrival,

the first fat rays of presence

define us once more

as those who dwell among the living

drawn into the warmth of day

and remind us we belong there

in reverence we draw light with breath

and exhale luminous awe

from ominous oneness

and in that moment we shall

be still and know

Linking up with dVerse, we are looking at the moments of solitude... these are mine.