PHANTOM MUSE

She was his last thought at night;
at break of day,the first light.
A beautiful figment of his imagination,
an intelligent honesty in all his citation.
Her thoughts made his heart chime, 
fragrance reminding him of roses and thyme.
Writer whirlpooling to his destruction,
enthralled by her treacherous seduction.
To accept their love,the world refuse
one mad writer and his phantom muse.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LIFE as we know it......

Ah !!the miseries in life or would you prefer the mysteries in life (this is the part where you pause n think). DONE THINKING???? I would probably prefer the later so you see they don't call me an optimist for nothing. Life is what you make of it just as you make up your face **haha that was pointless n not even funny just tried relating make of and make up. I swear no more pointless talks but admit it everyone has those moments where you just blurt out telling one of the worst lines in the world. ( Its okay if it happened more than once you are perfectly normal,trust me.) Okay I 'm going offline, the point is Life is too short to think of it as a misery. You probably have experienced tough time by now but you see that's the whole point 'growth'. GROWTH IS LIFE.................... Growing stronger , growing calmer, understanding the situations better, you see every time you go through hard time think of it as a growth.And it...
Read more

The bridge of nowhere

Long long ago in the mystical city of nowhere over the meadows and over the country fair old white rickety bridge stretched for a mile. Best of its kind and better than most aisle....... Quite a few summer rays like rainbow halo reach, through canopy of leaves amidst northern breeze. An oak tree silently bowed down like a knight, deep in prayer meditating on  mystical  true light..... Underneath,a brook ran for the rendezvous to embrace it's lover across mountain blue. A pelican ever so stealthy look upon it's prey while a melange of fishes swim in an array......... On bridge, clandestinely a he and she hold hands. A blush, a yes  soon the sorrowed heart mends. Vows and promises made; sealed on that very bridge, A nightingale presiding agreed in perfect pitch........ At dusk play of colors against the  bridge solitary, a perfect utopian exhibition of nature's  mystery. The poet smiled for the fortunate stroke of serendipity, how could she ...
Read more

She flew

A s she waited for the final hour to toll .. She forced a smile ; forbade tears to fall. Was this the price she had compromised after all these time that she had tried......... Life seemed too prejudiced through her eyes and her heart ached even after days of cry                                                                                            Pain the only connection to the real world and all those jagged accusations it hurled. Breaking the air of nonchalance her soul, now finally ensconced with the hope's call. Ray of hope through the prism of optimism her shattered heart healing without inhibition. With the winter here,could spring be far behind, soon spring made way and the sorrows resigned. To return you have to le...
Read more