To A Muse
How do we do it amid hissing, teeth gnashing,tears? I lead. They run away. Yet… When last comma finds a place,when final scene takes stage,words have caged them.Trained me. Truce struck.Contract signed.We smile for the crowd. Backstage a new story outlines itself.Battle lines drawn,claws twitch in their sheaths. ~Nara Malone I have edits to turn in next week and the new book is about to take the stage. The muses and I have called a truce in the next word war to pen another 55 for the G-Man. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.
Going Down Blues (jazz poetry)
Count me inbabysingwe’re going down down Down into red blues down wherenightmares can’t dream Pitch the canned heatkeep the beat slick licksburning throughjelly rollsriffing Tangle in my darkbabyblack cat bonedrumming skin down We rain harmonysyrupdusting your broomwash itdownsimmer down jamjamming you free Rhythm going liquidmilk spillingdownhoneygoing downblues ~Nara Malone This is my contribution to G-man’s Friday 55 and dVersePoets Meeting the Bar. I’ll confess. I tried and tried to beat this down to 55. The best I could do was 69. I tried to beat it down to jazz, but it came out blues.
Butterfly Tale
I dreamed a magic song and wrote it down when I woke up. I sang it out loud. Big magic there. Don’t try it. It turned me blonde. And… Video proof — now when the moon rises I turn into a butterfly. I think the moral is: Don’t copy song-writing homework in your creative programming notebook. ~Nara Malone An alternative moral could be, don’t miss a week of writing a Friday 55 for G-man. I suggest you hurry over and join the fun or drop in to see what others wrote. If you see a lesson in this butterfly tale that I have missed, please share it in the comments.…