words come in waves a chorus splashing in harmony drenching my dancing heart as my muse croons her siren melody a hypnotic verse reminiscent of the haunting a cappella sung by a lonely sea urging me to fall overboard into the depth of her words submerged in metaphors drowning in poetry
No, not when you think. I would have to say when I sit down to eat. I always imagine the dinner time conversations when families or couples dine. I bet most people take these moments for granted. I don’t.
Drinking my mojito, I watched a sunset.
Started writing a poem on a napkin. (Yes, we may have to change the blog name to The Lonely Napkin Author).
I wrote something for my muse. It will post this coming Monday. Hopefully, she will like it.
This was my dinnertime view last night, all that was missing was YOU.
Sitting at a bar, thoughts of muses, poetry. and loneliness floated alongside the ice cubes in my mojito.
I scribbled an occasional sentence or verse on a napkin because they were napkin worthy, unlike most of my other thoughts which are written on….
A waitress asked what I was doing.
“Writing poetry on a napkin.”
Time passed, my melancholy mood in this crowded bar, did not.
The waitress returned with a carnation. Pointing at an empty booth, she advised me a beautiful blonde was watching me as I drank and wrote. She was the curious person who wanted to know what I was writing.
Just before she left, my secret admirer asked the waitress to deliver the flower with a message.
“Mr. Poet, let this inspire you until the next time we meet for the first time.”
This photo is the carnation resting on the footboard of my bed.
today, I penned another entry with hemorrhaged ink that never dries between the yellowed pages of yesterdays I dreamt tomorrows that never arrived in my journal i drank a kiss from your lips made love to your soul with the same words that never grow old now I sit here planning another imaginary rendezvous in my cherished diary i pen words of beauty in my anthology of you
the illumination of your affection always surrounds me as a formless, invisible spectrum taking shape in my lungs as I breathe in your atmosphere it blinds me with the hope that the light of your love will be the final glimpse my eyes admire before darkness shrouds my life