There once was a boy named…

Stepping through the round door

Walking into Bilbo’s lair;
Searching for the tome with all of the answers:
A trimmed leather book of pages

read over and over

Full of childhood memories
Explanations of yesterday and the

few days before that
Expanding awareness along the

country Shire lane of existence, to experience

and create something new

Even if it doesn’t mean anything to anyone,

but you and me.

Narrating into view a little tin roof to offer protection

from the elements in the physical being
Knowing that understanding is hearing

and that there is nothing to creating your own reality;

believing in a Tolkien story and then

pushing forward to read something new,

to imagine the impossible.

This whicker rocking chair lifting forward to front
Tossing back to feel the movement
Enjoying a summer’s storm and

reading happy novella stories;
Predictable beginnings starting with the one line announcement

of him or her
My current selection of hoarding

moments to remember, begins with
“There once was a boy named…”

I am grateful for swag ❤

Summer Storm

One quick flash and then it’s gone, the light ceasing to exist but lingering seconds later, leaving little stars in our eyes
Extinguished by embarrassment of the amount of power used to create what could never be heard unless it’s so close it ignites
A loner wondering who would chance pain on the undefinable expectations of understanding from a passing eye;
Never letting go of the hope that lightning can strike somewhere twice, to feel the familiarity

The clouds roll, boil, before the explosion of sound; the thundering escape of air
Bodies self-consciously tensing every muscle, constricting movement as if preparing for some unknown distraction or threat
Knowing what is to come but fearing it all the same
Eyes closed, all from the warning shine of mercy;
The bolt only collecting one victim, at one exact target spot;
a finger of redemption

The noise travels greedily, trying to consume as many as possible
A nuclear explosion spreading out in an invisible black wave of intimidation, annihilation
Releasing from the puff of breath that had been held in;
Always the dramatic entrance, successfully poisoning the silence
Shattering the protective covering of the recycled stale air

Such a childish mind paired with a devil’s grin; dangerous or normal?
(Defining normal as whatever it is right now)
Trying to decipher the thoughts of the clouds through their bipolar cries for help
Being forced into contemplation and reflection, kindness
Forgetting body and soul and focusing on the sacrifice:
Summer storms always offer plenty of rain.

I am grateful to be home in Penny Lane ❤

Burn

The wounds are fresh, pulsating with heat
Friction on the heart, subtle reminders that claim to destroy
Sending the troops out to barrel through the floodgates
Breaking, dam, damage
A mind wanders, follows a path
Looping through the gumdrops and the lollipops of Candy Land
Taking a break at every few steps to enjoy the sugar
Seeking the high off of the wanting
Much unlike the typical junkie
Never able to shoot up love like a drug
Or smoke a roll of desire, burning it to flame, red to black
A passion lasted through the ash of fire;
The worst trait of battle in any kind of war
But we all feel it burn every once in awhile.

I am grateful for fireflies. ❤

Enough

A flick of a finger catches my eye, a glance down to see dirty hands

Dark mud caked under almost each nail

Disfiguring the usual picture typically in view and

What I see, gazing at this familiar sentient attachment;

controlling more than I can myself

Worker’s palms, gracefully raised up, together to offer up my love

To everyone, the Universe has said enough;

Murky water running clean. 

 

 

I am grateful for today’s acknowledgements of love. ❤

Intensity

Drip drop the water falls
Echoing, bouncing, floating in mixed patterns within the bathroom walls
The faucet off and running, as a constant reminder of the time that is ticking
An audible reference of the faces I’ve been running, away
From what we miss within ourselves
And to find it once more
Devilish smiles seduce, suggesting more that’s left to come
The worst part of it all, the ones fallen are the hardest to trust
No matter how many hours of lives we meet, intensity always finds some sort of meaning, new discoveries, commonalities
But then, I always get carried away;
The beat is always so loud when we’re close.

I am grateful for road trips, especially after everything is packed and ready to go. ❤

Heartfelt Emotion

Do I just sit and watch
As you force your hands on the driver’s wheel
Grabbing old leather that feels more comfortable in my hands
In my car,
I don’t need a chauffeur to escort, distort my view of the world
I know that when I stop searching
He will be here
I hate being patient, I hate being ignorant
But that’s what life is:
A waiting game
And figuring out who and what is worth any heartfelt emotion

I am grateful for patience, or at least the reminder of it every once in awhile. ❤

Hi :)

I’ve gone through a series of starts lately, unable to finish anything that I begin writing. I thought about posting a mishmash of material that I’ve been working on just to be done with it but instead I’m trying to be patient! I figured it was time for a “real” talk post anyway. I’ve met the most interesting people recently and it seems to have just begun; A comfortable past-time activity that is growing into a familiarity.

For all of my friends on WordPress, thanks for following my blog so diligently! The last few months have been challenging and it’s amazing how much love can be found here, and how helpful it has been 🙂 I thought about change earlier in the year and here it is haha I guess it’s time for less thinking and more doing, so to speak.

I’ve started a few different writing projects that have been taking up a lot of my free time. A couple of amazing opportunities and I’ve had such a blast. Currently I am helping to write/create a video game and I am also working on a Greek Mythology Anthology that has been in the making for awhile. My projects (and there is a list, which I’m sure is relatable to many). So yea, things are looking pretty good again.

Don’t forget to tweet me up: https://twitter.com/Muse_Writer

 

Until next time,

Muse

 

Today I am grateful for secrets. ❤