Momentary lapse

Obviously I am behind on my short story promise, but I will write it soon, I swear! These past two weeks have been insanely busy, and I have had neither time nor energy to put my ideas into type. I am hoping that perhaps sometime this weekend I can get to the coffee shop that was my initial inspiration.

My muse needs a name

I think I am ready to write a short story. All I need is a good cup of coffee and my journal.

Stuck

I am having problems finishing this poem. Normally, when I write something, I know the direction I want to go with it, and I know how I want it to end. In this case, I am not quite sure yet where the story is going, nor do I know what the point is. It doesn't help that bits come to me weeks apart, with no apparent trigger. Bah!

Stanza Two

The second stanza of my work in progress:

She wonders how she got here,
and where it all began?
She wishes things were different.
What happened to her plan?
She knows she needs to soldier on,
but doesn't think she can.
Thus, she sits alone and cries,
tears muffled by a fan.

Poem, 4.23.08

Quietly, ever so furtively,
she slips from their bed
and glides her way on down the hall.
She will not wake him with her tread.
She sits in the soothing darkness
and tries to quiet her screaming head.
There is no sleep for one who is lost,
one whose soul is dead.


(A WIP, I think. It doesn't feel finished)

Poem, 2.4.03

Dream Lover
Your presence
surrounds my soul
breathing life into it
igniting my skin
passion together.
My heart quickens.
All sense is lost.
Your lips fire on my skin
feed my hunger
your fingers trace my every curve
our bodies, prey to unearthly magnetism.
Then the flames consume all. We end as one.
My eyes flutter open.
You've gone.

Poem, 2.19.03

My Muse

My imagination is blank
awaiting him
impatient
He comes unannounced
fills me up
making love
to my mind
He enters my fingertips
grips my pen
dances on the paper
Once he's spent
he's gone in a flash
All he leaves me
are words on the page