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Let's walk towards the beginning of...
Let’s walk towards the beginning of…
(c) Leonid Afremov
Shall we take a stroll, my dear reader? I have something to share with you…
During my younger and more unthinking days, a new year would mean a new chance at life. With the January air fragrant with promise and the first sunrays rich with chance, I would embrace a new year with hopes anew.
Sooner, than later, dear reader, I came to understand how time plays the fool with us.…
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Take my hand and let’s run away
Take my hand and let’s run away
(c) Pierre Auguste Cot
Take my hand and let’s run away tonight
‘To where, my own darling?’ you ask.
I vaguely point at the dimming
blue and pink and orange of the sky
and I wrap my hands around your neck
and insist that we must run right away.
You think I have a peculiar humour
Or worse, that the rum has gotten to me
for the sky is romantic and my senses dull
and I mean not what I say.
I climbed…
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To be a lover
To be a lover
(c) Vicente Romero Redondo
To surrender to sweet solitude,
writing, reading and breathing
is the agreeable way of life
for a hopeful writer like me.
But if I were to be,
I’d rather be a lover.
And thus would I happily abandon my
stack of papyrus, my writing desk and pen
and take a full time job of loving you.
I’d make you my art,
my masterpiece, too
I’d love you by the day and
by moonlight be…
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Summer afternoon by the lake
Summer afternoon by the lake
Jeanne Claesson
Summer afternoon by the lake
his lips softly pronouncing my name,
fingers strumming me into a song.
I knew then that I loved him so
and I could spend my days forevermore
seeing the sun rays spill all over him
on a summer afternoon by the lake.
Then he would close his eyes to form
my faint outline in his mind
and smile through all the sorrows
of having to say goodbye.
The wind…
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The artist
(c) Serge Marshennikov
He loved art
like a lover, his beloved.
The paintbrush between his fingers
made soft love to the canvas
which, with each of his strokes,
became more alive and like a woman
endured the sweet torments of his love.
His deep dark eyes where pain resides
never alighted so lovingly on another sight.
He made art
like a lover made love
it made him wild
it set him free
and sometimes
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#art#artist#blog#blogging#humour#inspiration#life#love#music#poetry#religion#romance#sex#word#wordpress#writing
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The Moon makes me hopeful The Moon makes me hopeful. And not because it shines over the dark but because it makes me see the beauty of the deep night.
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Falling star
(c) Google search
Dearest, remember last December night
when a forlorn star fell from the sky?
And even as it beautifully burned,
it left a trail of ashes behind.
You followed the star as it faded from sight
and I followed a tear that rolled down your eye.
Dearest, I had so much to tell you then
but my words were lost in that view
where the star had fallen and died
and I, too, fell and died for…
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#art#blog#blogger#blogging#books#feelings#food#happy#inspiration#life#lonely#love#love letter#poetry#sad#sex#thoughts#truth#web#women#word#wordpress#writing
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Prophet of arts
(c) Jeff Barson
He
wasn’t
just
a passing fantasy
inspiring my poetic blues,
he
was
the
chief prophet of arts
teaching muses how to muse.
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#art#funny#humanity#humour#inspiration#life#love#muse#painting#poem#poetry#religion#romantic#truth#writing
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Dear faraway reader
(c) Henry Thomas
Dear faraway reader,
time and again have I pictured you
scrolling by my woeful words
your graceful fingers pausing for a while
your eyes lingering over the lines
a random smile painting your face.
And I have also pictured you
roughly scrolling by
sighing with disappointment
because it wasn’t my poem you were longing for (more…)
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#blog#blogger#blogging#blogs#humanity#humour#inspiration#kiss#life#love#lover#poem#poet#poetry#reading#religion#sex#truth#word#wordpress#writing
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If I were to write
If I were to write
(c) Gladiola Sotomayor
If indeed I were to write,
I’d write for you alone
but alack, it isn’t easy,
because dearest, neither are you.
You’re nothing like the lark,
or the rose or moon or summer’s day.
And comparing you would be (more…)
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Destiny of a true lover Oft have I thought of you, dearest and oft, dearest, have I felt a wave of melancholy sweep over me.
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Drops and Dearth Together, they drowned underneath the high seas And together yet perished with thirst in dry sands…
#art#beauty#blog#death#faith#heartbreak#inspiration#life#love#melancholy#microfiction#micropoetry#perish#poem#poet#poetry#rain#sad#sorrow#time#truth#wait#words
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Of when I was groped by a man in a crowded street
Of when I was groped by a man in a crowded street
I am burning with a passion so fierce as I’m pressing these keys. It was an incident that made me test my own strength. And if there truly is a god above, at least I would be able to answer that I did not maintain a neutral stance at the hour of moral crisis.
Today, as I was walking the horribly crowded streets of Delhi, much changed in the afternoon that was just like any other.
I was groped by…
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#abuse#empowernment#female#feminism#feminist#freedom#girl power#grope#harassment#help#inspiration#life#love#molest#real story#sexual abuse#strong#victim#woman power#women empowerment
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Playing the keyboard on a stormy afternoon
Playing the keyboard on a stormy afternoon
I remember being a part of the school choir when I was little. I was awed by the way my music teacher’s fingers would dance on the black and white keys of the grand piano. It looked divine when she would close her eyes and let her fingers guide her through the notes. My only wish would be to be able to play like her, but most unfortunately, I never owned a piano or a keyboard. In the years that…
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#art#artist#blog#classical music#fur elise#inspiration#keyboard#life#love#music#musical#piano#poetry#truth#video#writing
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Monsieur Lune- an introduction (audiobook) Dear beholder, To learn more about Monsieur Lune, keep an eye on this blog. Music- Liebesleid: Love's Sorrow
#art#audiobook#blog#blogger#blogging#books#family#feelings#happy#humour#inspiration#life#love#music#poetry#voice recording#word#wordpress#writing
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At the hour when the moon hangs above
At the hour when the moon hangs above
(c) Google images
At the hour when the moon hangs above,
and bathes over your skin, ah so tender
I will lie with you till the end of love.
Your braid I’ll unlace, your hand I’ll un-glove
unbutton you, unknot you, untie you like thunder,
at the hour when the moon hangs above.
(more…)
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I wish for your breath I wish for your breath to take form of sweet air gentle breeze passionate wind fierce storm wild hurricane violent tornado to touch me. I wish for your breath to take form of my breath.
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