For The Sunday Muse Prompt #174: ** The empty glass catches the fading light, its pale blandness turned in an instant into a merry band of colours wending their way around its rim. In the still moments of yielding to the night we see, through heavy eyes that in the brilliance of the radiant light, and the shadows too there is beauty, everywhere
For The Sunday Muse prompt #118: ** In the chaos of water meeting water and breaking free, each splash a hop of joy freed to twirl and twist and kick and be, a body bent fluidly flowing like a shout of delirious joy, life echoes.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #115: ** Let the first sniff hit you, let the faint hint of the juice pressed and aged be like incense wafting up, a prayer to Dionysius for a blessing on this rich red liquid, chilled, swirled and sipped. Let the low heat linger, let its essence slowly spread, warming the insides of your mouth let its heft spread like a warm embrace across your tongue. Let it rise Let it rise.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #114: \\\* May the pains of today’s desires lose themselves in the fragrance of a love reborn, the pained passion of unrequited love find itself returned in time like a blossom that speaks, a sacred whisper to the soul colouring everything in the light of a rose, beautiful in its bleeding yet whole, because the Lover and the Loved like thorn and rose find themselves entwined, from past pain and tortured paths, delirious joy arising.
For the Sunday Muse prompt # 112: \\\* Sometimes I carry the weight of the world upon my head, its heft held between the twin peaks of forgotten and accepted things, a history curated not by those who waver at the threat of war but those who embrace its vagaries, who daily pour out a libation to destruction. What seems like the stillness of a boat in quiet waters only hides the furious paddling of a mind being torn apart as it wrestles with the tension between conforming and desire. ...
For The Sunday Muse prompt #111: \\\* what we remember of the past are the things the mind allows, the harshness of being hacked into a thousand tiny pieces assuaged by the desire to forget, to not let the horror of the past hold the present hostage, to find a path that winds through the remains of pillage to a coherent whole. what we learn in the end is that skirting the hole where our kin should be is akin to yielding to the pressure of a hand pressed against our throat, to feed the pleasure of the ghouls hovering over our history. ...
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #110, \\\* The heart ponders what lies beyond the realm of sight, what hides in the place where dreams come from, where the beauty of a still night twinkles in the soft light. From afar it tugs at the strings of the curious heart, in its distance, a promise of salvation from the fires below.
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #109, Image “Snow White & Rose Red” by Kerry Darlington \\\* The kind hearts of the shy and the cheerful make space for the stranger, a traveller quivering in the winter wind, lost, for a moment. What lies hidden in the dream is that sometimes a good deed travels the world for a season and then returns twice revived, the shy and the cheerful ones saved in return by the stranger who once wandered by.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #108: \\\* Bound up in its faux pillars and its dangling chandeliers are the memories of stolen things, the tears shed here by the lost ones reverberating in our ears. Time disappears here, subsumed by the delight of truly feeling and of seeing, the art of each act a tribute to the ones who’ve come before.
For the Poetic Aside Prompt #516 and the Novem poetic form. Not strictly interpreted though… \\\* Come bask beneath the starlight. Yield yourself to Time’s gift of colour splashed across night’s canvas. Come here, Hear the whisper of nature’s song. Ponder in awe.