New Day

Pale fingers of light

Reach across the morning sky

Start of a new day

As the sun descends

Radiant ribbons of light

Streak across the sky

The Rose

Peach petaled beauty

Awashed with sparkling raindrops

Burgeoning with life


Take My Spirit Home

Take my spirit home to a land beyond the sea,

Where sweet meadows lie,

Where dark forests stand tall,

Where mist and fog settle across the land,

Where dappled sunlight plays among the trees,

Where brooks and streams run through the countryside,

Where rock and stone shelter their quiet energy,

Take my spirit home to this land of legend and myth,

So my spirit may rejoice and swell,

For there is where it truly belongs and exists.

Seasonal Euphoria

Well, the holidays are upon us. And like every other year, utter chaos abounds. Shops are in full retail swing trying to make the most of the holiday buying season, from gift ideas to decorations. Everywhere you turn, you see signs indicating SALE! SALE! SALE! Christmas advertisements are numerous. Lights are twinkling and flashing all over the place; on light poles, trees, houses and stores. More people seem to be invading the pavement trying to make all the sales they possibly can in the countdown to that spectacular day known as Christmas. It reminds me of a race; however, there never appears to be any winners. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But I prefer a quieter, simpler atmosphere. No ostentatious decorations, just a simple tree decorated with homemade ornaments and lights. I would much rather have the company of my family and friends instead of receiving tons of gifts which will either find their way sitting in a drawer somewhere or back to the shop they originally came from.

I don’t know what causes this annual phenomenon, but it is severely doing my head in. Because of it, I am unable to focus on any one thing. Not a great thing for a writer. The ideas seem to be bouncing like little rubber balls around my head, all avoiding capture. If only I could grasp just one and let it germinate into something truly spectacular, then maybe I wouldn’t feel like a complete loser in the writing department. It’s just not fair, but life does go on in this matter whether we like it or not. I must resign myself to the inevitable and wait for my muse to return. I only hope it returns sooner than later.

Celestial Bodies

Celestial bodies

Wrapped in a black velvet cloak,

Adorned with diamonds

Golden Light

Shafts of golden light

Pierce the low-lying grey clouds

Summer’s last battle.

Autumnal Gales

Autumnal gales

Rush across golden fields

Cool air in it’s wake

Cotton Candy Tufts

Cotton candy tufts

Of cloud hang lazily in

Majestic blue skies.

The Waiting Game

She sits forlornly

Waiting; always waiting, but

No one ever comes.

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