Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

again we meet mon amie
though i have never seen your face......
we never gather in places like that
rather the foggy steam rooms of fantasia

in the wet mirrors that cannot reflect,
we meet nonetheless, share a basket
of acorns that we know will become
the towering words that sway in the wind but never break

we bounce creations off molecules of water
and I am always grateful for your company,
together we ink reflections that will never
evaporate, dry up dusty on the tongue

you and I are long on the trail, long in the tooth
our sentences will stagger forever like cowboy zombies
like the ghosts of Grey and Mc Murtry, like Albee
and me walking hand in hand, cousins long lost

and I will write it all down on my note pad
and put in a pile of words that beg to be released
and one day when you come again, whisper in my ear,"it's time"
I will post them on Studio 8, and take all the credit

The muse we have, this love, poets do, the poem fascinates me as mine is of fog and rain , some how there is an energy in unseen love ,some one who knows us . I found a quiet alone in the poem,not a unhappiness or gladness ,but a waiting, who is this dream lover who comes to whisper , why does it seem so real? once again you have found words for real feelings that are difficult to express .

How true. I never seem to write anything "from scratch" (is that possible?) There's always someone or some thing(s) related to people I've known or read somewhere in the conscious mix, or just beneath it, seeping through, along for the ride...

take, digest, offer such fine creations. Your process here arrives at a perfect place - hear my applause

leaf, mnaz, judih...enjoyed your comments...

Ahhhhh the sweet muse.....your writing is deep...from that space within....enjoyed Steve