pen poised over paper
dangling in mid-air
the words, they don’t come
for my muse went away
and in his wake
disjointed thoughts remain
unable to reconnect
these fragments of words
like dried leaves constantly
being swept away
by the wind blowing
as the door where my muse
-©The Elusive Scribe 011515-
photo credit: en.wikipedia.org
thoughts drifting away
like white clouds gliding
as the breath of wind gently blows
pushing them onwards
scattering into the ephemeral embrace
of the vast nothingness
yet consciousness forms
amidst the floating images
caressing tendrils of memories
like fragile shards of glass
blood dripping from shallow cuts
as fingers try to put the pieces
back together to form a thought
and so the words begin to flow
slowly at first then gushing from pen
like a broken dam unrelenting
spreading on whitened sheets
a wildfire of words mingling
with tears and sweat
the pages will turn once more
lines will be filled with forgotten words
stitched together by images
flashing behind eyes that stare
at swaying trees and dancing leaves
as the barrier between thought and pen
ceases to exist…
-©The Elusive Scribe 050214-
These lines no longer matter
words no longer have any meaning
shared thoughts are fading
promises already breaking
like mirrors ready to shatter
Yet the words will spill
like the blood that flows
from the heart though pained
from the absence of you
And they will form in silence
just like the silence you gave
and form they will just to speak
the truth that this lips won’t dare say
That the dark days you left me with
sparked the fire within
and from the desolation of broken heart strings
and debris of shattered dreams
the flames will run
Engulfing the wreckage
consuming the pain and hatred
searing memories etched upon walls
down in the chamber once offered to you
And from the heat of the flames
that course through these veins
all the lies these ears have heard
and lips have sworn
shall melt away
like the images of you
and us no more
And the fire shall raze
everything in its path
not even a shadow of our first kiss
not even a hint of our smiles
not even the idea of us
-©The Elusive Scribe 040514-
A sliver of light appears as clouds do part
trailing its finger upon an exposed heart
beating secret words into works of art
once clutched to chest now bursting apart.
And so the words do form under the moon’s gaze,
like winds that swirl and billow in the haze.
This tender heart chases after its muse in a maze
seeking clarity even though it’s in a daze.
What madness lies then in the deepening night?
Shifted by the moon these thoughts do ignite.
cold at first but then they burn so bright
spreading like wildfire that has taken flight.
-©The Elusive Scribe 012914-
I can hear them pounding the streets
with their heavy footfalls echoing
against the walls of my crowded mind.
The letters come marching arm in arm
conjuring ideas from words like magic
out they come from their hiding places
drowning me in their raucous din.
I could hear their voices rising
clamoring to be heard, wanting my attention
begging for me to write them down on paper.
My hands are shaking in anticipation
wondering how the march of words will appear
once I start to bleed my pen
staining blank pages that await
the kiss of the nib on their virgin skin.
-The Elusive Scribe 010814-
There is magic in the words your lips do utter
into the night where our shadows reside,
with the flames from the candles our only lights
reflected back within the deep pools of our eyes.
Your whispered words that get carried by the wind
trail goosebumps on flesh as your breath descends,
a spell to remove the chains that bind the fire
setting it free to course through cold skin that waits
for your touch to ignite the desire within
letting it loose and unbound on waiting silken sheets.
Can pain exist in something beautiful
like real love bestowed with innocence?
Can it lay waste the blossoming garden
where seeds of hope and dreams were planted?
Can pain break the melodic laughter
and replace it with ringing silence?
Can it harden the softest of hearts
and turn it into an unforgiving stone?
Can pain dampen the fire bursting inside,
leaving behind nothing but ashes?
Can it darken once bright eyes
and cause rivers of tears to flow?
Can pain be embedded within the joy of loving,
then break out like thorns on roses?
Can it silence the words that often flow
from lips that love has taught to speak?
Can pain take over the light that burns
and bring with it the shadows of despair?
Can it chill the blood that flows,
and numb body, mind and soul?
-The Elusive Scribe 113013-