#pro-readerhabit

[heartofmuse]

"My love wears a tiger's skin,

it is a fierce thing,

wild and untamed,

has claws and has teeth."

e.v.e. (The Nature of Love)

[rabbruad1]

When you cease to appreciate, your outlook starts to deteriorate.

Bruce Adler

[rhapsodyinblue80]

"I think every writer stands in the doorway of [her] prison." -Sherman Alexie

Poetry liberates our thinking,

a cellar door left slightly ajar

where light envelops

the subterranean home

we frequently cloister ourselves within.

We are guilty of claiming silence

in daily living through casual interactions

Imprisoning our true voices of heartache

into rusted life lessons

abandoned, unexamined.

Poetry takes us out of such privacy

suspending thoughts openly

amidst the needlework of constellations

where we expose thoughts bravely

as they guide our spirits toward

a meditative, mindful expression

that questions, refreshes, reflects

heightening our consciousness

to clasp hands with understanding

charting courses of new beginnings.

Rhapsodyinblue80//

starlit poets

9/5/19

Image: Chris Rivera

*For all the writers who courageously unburden their emotions and transform them into art

[naturallylilting]

I thought

I was used

to being alone,

but the dark came alive

when I first met you.

The moments we shared

meant more than the stars,

love flamed in my eyes

right from the start.

I never knew

I was playing with fire,

until it was too late

and I lost you

to the night.

I believed you could fill

the emptiness inside

but you were a dream,

a mirage

of illusion and desire.

.

Rhymingtherapy - April 2019

[rhapsodyinblue45]

All roads lead back to you

down soft evening paths

speckled in blazing pinks

of early spring

footprints embrace shallow eddies

reflecting our harvest moon's dance

along an emerald shoreline

how sincere your steel-eyed glance

catching my breath

drawing constellations

across my tanned skin

you touch feelings

beneath my skin

and peonies erupt

in a blush of wonder

you know my thoughts

before their petals

find shape to express

their knowing

you call me into

your deep-scented

chestnut voice

pulling me

intoxicating the supple

curves of my heart

until miles meld

into moments

roads direct my path

on a journey I've sensed

since time's beginning

every intention bridging

the distance

as all roads lead

inevitably to you

---

Rhapsodyinblue45//

All roads lead to

Image: Tom Sierak

5.8.19

---

*a writing prompt challenge to include the phrase "all roads lead to you"

[dancing-on-the-waves]

Finally

Finally 

I waited too long to ask. My heart wasn’t up to the task. Afraid of what it might feel. Would I ever heal.

Finally I got up the courage. I resolved not to be discouraged. I found her across the miles. I steadied myself to meet the awaiting trials.

Her smile was inviting as ever. I knew that it was now or never. I had prepared myself for the worse. I strove to be open, honest, and terse.

She smiled softly with understanding. As if she knew my heart’s love longstanding. Her words were sweet and gentle as ever they were. I left free of the burden I long carried for her.

It may not have been the answer I wished. But in the end once again we kissed. I left serenely, finally the answer I knew. And the sky is still blue.

K. C. Barry

[scatteredthoughts2]

Strange Whispers.

-----------------------

There are secrets waiting in this ghostly place,

A hint, a clue, the faintest trace,

Of happenings, of lives before,

Of secrets buried, beneath the floor.

-----------------------

Hear the voices in the cobwebbed halls,

The wandering spirit's, whispered calls,

Repeating tales of grief and woe,

Tragedies, from so long ago.

-----------------------

Ancient lives, lived in brick and stone,

The ghosts of those who died alone,

The very walls have tales to tell,

From the attic dust, to the basement well.

------------------------

To the silence, you must lend your ear,

If of these ghosts, you wish to hear,

And sometimes, when the night is still,

Your heart will feel, their ghostly chill.

------------------------

Ambrose Harte

Scattered Thoughts

[k-h-v]

For when the mind is foggy, and the heart is weighted with the anchors of the past, a shattering breezing will sweep you away into the streams of lives once lived. Float for awhile, but let one not linger too long, for serenity is ahead, not where thee resides.

- “AHHHAH moment for a friend with a hurting heart”

@k3you7