Today is all that there is

Romantic Art Print by Willem Haenraet
(c) Willem Haenraet

There is a place near the clouds, near a dream, near love. A place where blind cupid learns archery and the poets learn their rhymes. A place that knows neither the sorrow of yesterday nor the worry of tomorrow. Today is all that there is.

Will you go with me then, if I take your hand?

I have drowned in sweet romance all summer long. In the pages of novels and in the stacked yellowing letters. Then summer flew past me Continue reading

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Why I write

Penned-Letter

Is it necessary for an artist to know why he paints, or a ballerina to know why she is possessed by a passion to ballet? Need a nightingale know why she serenades the sleeping world or the moon understand why he is enraptured by the blue earth, around which he revolves day and night, yet never dares to embrace her for the fear they will collide and die?

There is no want in them to fathom the mystery of those passions that are beyond comprehension.

Then must a lowly writer such as I question why I write?

I know not.

And yet, when the night is starless and witchy, when all is lonesome like a solitary wolf weeping under the moon, when the world is so silent that I can hear the pencil moving against paper, I seek answers…

…to understand why of all the noble trades there are, of the endless streams of possibilities, I picked up the quill and chose to be a writer.

I write… because Continue reading

His ghost

throat_piercing_by_Brina
(c) Brina

His ghost lingers on

in every thought she ever thought

like a love that wasn’t to be

like the soul mates who never meet

like the thirsty earth wailing for heaven’s moist mouth

like a familiar stranger that eyes behold just once

like a fragrance that invokes the aching past

like a rainbow bubble that would a moment last

like a dream that has faded to forgetfulness

like a blushing rose that withers and dies

before it could exchange hands.

His ghost lingers on and on and on…

Continue reading