theSOURCE Posted February 24, 2013 #1 Share Posted February 24, 2013 She Writes She writes. From her mind and from her spirit Her verses flow like wine Bittersweet and delicious. With a gentle touch She holds my hand as she holds my interest Leading me into sleep Carrying me into dreams. She sees. Whatever darkness lurks in my soul And whatever spills from my broken mind Only she can see who I once was. Please indulge me. Compose a poem and tell me Everything I already know And all that I've been missing. She knows. Tomorrow won't be the same as today But the change will be welcomed With a new verse and a new smile. Write for me once more. Let your words pour from you In the way that only you can do And write my life happy again. 9 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Still Waters Posted February 24, 2013 #2 Share Posted February 24, 2013 Wow.....beautiful Lucky lady! 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
schizoidwoman Posted February 24, 2013 #3 Share Posted February 24, 2013 Sounds like quite a muse! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cloudshill Posted February 24, 2013 #4 Share Posted February 24, 2013 Excellent poem, I like the construction.... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
theSOURCE Posted February 24, 2013 Author #5 Share Posted February 24, 2013 Thanks SW. It always amuses me how a poem or story idea pops into my head simply by chatting with someone. Schizzy, her poetry is so unique that I'm sure if I attempted to write like her I'd fail miserably. Thanks Cloudshill. I'm more comfortable writing stories than poetry so I never how my poems will turn out. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SpiritWriter Posted February 25, 2013 #6 Share Posted February 25, 2013 (edited) Thank you more The Source :) Here is my reply.... This is the muse that kisses in the morning once she's alive. ** Happiness, she wasn't hiding but questioned, so she posed against the blackest night in a slight curve. She twisted and turned so that you could never rest. She worked on your nerves so that you would keep on pressing. I imagine her being drawn into you like one of your sketches, standing beneath a lamp in your most private room, handing you colors and coloring you. With patient expectation and fumbling fingers you make the strokes that detail her smile. And the eyes! What time you spend on them! As if each reflection were their own eternity, each lash, a lyric to a love song, each brilliant fleck given the effect to widen up enough to step inside. She knows that you've picked out her thoughts by dividing the wind from the whispers she sends. When her face becomes clear don't be surprised. ** Edited February 25, 2013 by SpiritWriter 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mistydawn Posted February 25, 2013 #7 Share Posted February 25, 2013 Really beautiful SOURCE. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
theSOURCE Posted February 26, 2013 Author #8 Share Posted February 26, 2013 (edited) Thank you SpiritWriter. That was a pleasant surprise and a lovely poem. For a moment, when I started to hear one verse after another I thought I was in the wrong thread. The imagery took me back to when I was able to paint with oils. I miss those days very much. Thank you for awakening that memory. Edited February 26, 2013 by theSOURCE 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
theSOURCE Posted February 26, 2013 Author #9 Share Posted February 26, 2013 Thank you Misty. I do try. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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