What will I write today?
I don’t always plan, or know.
It’s like magic, when inspirations strike,
And on the paper flow.
They can take you to a Wonderland,
Or into a forest deep
Where long forgotten memories
Awaken from their sleep.
when the palette is dryer than desert sand
And my canvas remains a blank.
I’ll Cast into a stream of thought
Or favourite memory bank
Sometimes just an uttered word,
Or phrasing will suffice
It needn’t be a complex theme
Or tricky plot device
When real-life tries to intervene
And my thoughts grow circumspect
Free writes can be refreshing,
care-free moments to reflect.
When I stare at all the wavy lines, curlicues and the nooks, crannies and spaces in between in the design of this old piece of paisley fabric. My imagination takes flight. It makes me wonder if the designer felt the same way. For instance, did he or she intend these to be a pair of fish or dolphins suspended in crystal against a field of tangerine rinds? Was this intended to be squid tentacles erupting from a bed of kelp, hilighted against a sea of twinkling stars? Oh look, the cross section of an elephants trunk reaching out to pluck the strings of a rainbow! This fabric has been around since I was a very young child, and I’ve been fascinated by its intricate design, ever since I can remember. The amazing thing about it though, for me anyway, is that every time I look, I see something new.
Love is not a tangible thing
not a midsummer’s night, Nor a month
Love is not a stroll in the rain
not a sonnet, not even a brief
Love’s not a jewel, nor radiant gem
not a velvet rose petal, or thorny
Love is a yearning, a longing inside
an emotional ocean as deep as its
Love’s a sensation, a feeling of bliss
the lasting impression of a
sweet tender kiss
Its knowing that the someone, who
waits for you,
despite all temptations, will always