Memorizing the music of her curves
Every note a drop of impeccable beauty
Luscious harmonics vibrating his very soul
Overtones causing emotions vivid and deep
Desire sang back with a trumpet fanfare devolving into kettle drums calling his hormones to battle
Yet her smile brought the whole orchestra to a halt except for a single flute, and that’s when he knew he was in love
Putting my toes in the ocean with the wind in my hair and the heavy scent of salt in the air
And if not then a crystal clear lake with cabins and joy all around
Rural roads with mile upon mile of fresh blacktop and not a car in sight
A strong wind during twilight bringing the fresh smell of a coming storm
Dark night under the stars, friends to either side sharing stories and jokes
Icy cold in contrast to a bright sun reflecting off a virgin snowfall
Surreally painted skies at the beach, good tunes on the radio, watching the sun sink slowly off stage west
Everyone should occasionally go to their special place to recharge their soul in their own …
Plowing and sowing the world of sleep
It was hard work, but he was a farmer to his soul
Little furrows stretched to the horizon containing the roots of fertile dreams and scream-inducing nightmares
Lying there, waiting to be harvested
Once he was ready and picked them, Morbius would pay him handsomely for this crop
Wait till the slumbering humans were served these delectables!
She wanted to bare her essence, her soul
Embracing her truth before setting it free into the world
Cauterizing the cuts those words caused by her clutching them so desperately tight
Releasing them would allow so much healing to enter
Except she just couldn’t do it. She screamed as she hugged them tighter
The idea of giving up her truth and being naked, of needing to find a new truth
She would be an open window, an empty container, a person without value, a woman without …
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No way he would ever get all those words down on paper
Obviously, he had bitten off more than he could chew
Vowing that after he was done he would never even touch a word processor
Every letter was a struggle as he tried to download his soul onto the paper
Long months later he typed ‘The End.’ That was when he realized his work had just begun!
Selling pieces of his soul was the only way he could get ahead
They were not large pieces, but they all added up
Outside everything was fine, but inside, the echoes of who he had been became a cacophony
Relegating his self-worth into moral bankruptcy
Eventually, he ran out of product, closed up shop, and faded from memory
Finding the darkness settling into his soul
Everything began to slow except his heartbeat
Animalistic screams escaped his tightening throat
Reaching up on tiptoes toward the full moon the transformation was complete
Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance
Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative
The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart
Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted
Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke
Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint
Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life
His heart was shattered into shards that stabbed his soul and made it bleed
Every day he tried to put one or two more pieces back together as best he could
And some days his heart broke more than he fixed it, yet overall
Living slowly got better, forever different, but better
All of Jessie’s life could be seen in the lines engraved into his face
They told of the many laughs and smiles, the tears and anger, written throughout the years
Looking in the mirror, he reminisced a life lived hard
As he traced those wrinkles, he wondered about the upcoming Botox injection and smoothing it all over
Soul searching if he really wanted to lose that history… Jessie left with his map intact
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 