Friday, March 8, 2019

The Muse Demands Attention


The Muse comes in
fills my senses
takes over
my entire being
‘til I can’t think
of anything else
but doing my art

Paintings call me
words tumble
out of me
I’m torn between
following the demands
or doing mundane chores
which need to be done

"Rose of Sharon" work in progress














A quick trip
to the studio
has me on my feet
over an hour

Every time I try to walk away
She pulls me back
more … more
fix this … touch that up

Even after I return
to the table
She’s still there
poking, prodding
pushing to keep
the creative fire
burning brightly

It’s hard to ignore
but I have other work to do.


Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Limbo



Little brain chitter
like bird twitter
taps on the edges
of my mind

But the words
roll off my skull
and fall into the ethers
before I can hear them

Nothing feels important
I’m in limbo
until I can get home
where the muse

Patiently, or maybe
impatiently, waits.
She wasn’t done with me
when I left.

Friday, February 8, 2019

Creative Muses



The Poetry Muse
strikes with no notice
words pouring out
like beer from an open tap

The words
in its frothy head
slowly sink
into the dark brew

With each sip
of the creamy, bitter stout
they slide down my throat
then slip out onto the page

The Painting Muse
hovers on the sideline
silently prodding
my consciousness

“Paint,” she pleads, “Paint!”
as she fills my mind
with visions of beautiful
landscapes and flowers

Pink Phlox Purple Post

She pulls me
to the easel
shows me scenes
full of pastel brightness

Soft colors over dark
blended edges of vibrant shades
I feel my hand lift to the paper
give over to the passion

Until the Writing Muse
demands attention
and words vie with color
overflowing my mind

Write, paint, write, paint
becomes the daily struggle
with both muses screaming
to be heard

Wisps of color
swirl in a sea of words
and I give in
to whatever is strongest

leaving the other
to pace the misty shorelines
awaiting her chance
to jump in.













Saturday, December 1, 2018

Hard Rain



Words start in a trickle
a gentle drizzle
tickling my senses
teasing me to pick up a pen

After a couple of lines
the wind gusts
and the heavens open
A deluge of hard rain
pummels me with words
too numerous to catch

This rain hurts!
In moments I’m drenched
falling so fast, so hard
the words bruise my mind
bounce off my body leaving welts
then puddle at my feet like spilled ink

Phrases drip from my hair
run into my eyes making vision difficult
then streak down my face and neck
I’m soaked to the skin
drops coursing down my arms
to fall from fingertip to pen
onto a page too wet to hold ink

I fight to save the words
being washed away
 “Me! Me!” they yell
demanding to be written
But I’m drowning
I can’t write fast enough

Suddenly it stops
the overcast opens to blue
and the sun peeks through
The words dry on my arms,
ink on the page becomes readable
I begin moving the pieces around
assembling the jigsaw puzzle
of a poem.



Monday, November 26, 2018

Storm Surge


Once more a poem about writing poetry surged through. I wrote it last night after meditating, then "fixed" it up this morning. Enjoy!

In a half dream
I calmly watch the tide pull back
totally oblivious to what’s about to happen
the quiet deceiving before all hell breaks loose

Mesmerized, I watch it build. It’s huge!
and realize there’s no time to run
with frightening speed
it descends in a deafening rumble
devouring everything in its path

It smashes into me
sweeps me high off my feet
spins me around
then slams me to the ground
its force rolling me
over and over and over

I try to grab onto words
but the surge steals my breath

I try to grab onto explanation
but the ferocity leaves me mindless

I write furiously
but the raging torrents rip away the words
before I can get them all on the page

I try to make sense of it all
but the turbulent forces tumble me along
at speeds too outrageous to describe
leaving no room for cohesive thought

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops.
I collapse into the wet, slimy mud
stunned, bruised, exhausted
numb and in shock
I watch the water recede, disappear

I breathe in … breathe out
I’m alive!

I begin moving aching limbs
shifting through the debris
of words I wrote down
trying to find what I missed;
searching for the ending

But there’s nothing else here.
After all that intensity
I expected more --
There is no more

Surprised, I realize
the ending already happened
just not the way I expected
what started with such violence
ended quickly, softly.

It’s done.


Saturday, October 27, 2018

Downpour or On the Edge of Translation


It rains down
fills my soul
from head to toes
sometimes a heavy downpour
or thunderstorm

Its words with mine
stir my inner beingness
mixing in gut, heart, mind
until clouds of emotions
swirl and dance in partnership

It all bubbles up
threatens to burst my seams
I try to capture
thoughts and contemplations
in language I know

And the words
explode out of me
fall from pen
or onto computer keyboard
faster than I can write

At times
I’m only on the edge
of a translation
I can’t quite grasp
the correct words

Then suddenly
it all ceases
the downpour stops
words cut off
in midsentence or thought

Wait, wait!
I didn’t get it all!

I still haven’t come up with a description of how/what the inflow is really like. Sometimes there are real words I understand, and other times it’s a kind of feeling of what is being channeled; emotion, but not emotion. --SW


Thursday, October 25, 2018

Flash Flood


The gates open
words gush down
consuming me
tossing me along a stream
of water, stones, and sand


Words fill my mind

at an alarming rate
mix with emotions
bubbling from
my own inner well

I snatch and grab
try to anchor myself
on the words
try to form them
into cohesive thoughts
sentences and paragraphs

There’s initial success
as the page is filled
with interesting introspection
but the flow too turbulent
I’m soon overpowered
the focus becomes
a jumble of tossed stoned
and I lose the thread
of logic

I’m drowning
unable to control
the flow, the writing
then the torrent rushes on
through me, past me
leaving me exhausted
lying in mud
among the scattered stones.