Poetry From The Outside

Here is something I wrote in 1986.

Dance Of Dragons

February 19, 1986

In the heart of twilight

when night birds call

to the stars.

That is the time

 the dragons fly.

You can see them

dancing

on wings of

leather and bone.

You can hear them

calling

from the ancient times.

They have roamed this

world forever,

forever thru the spiral

forever past the sun.

And when breaks the day

they fly

towards the moon,

towards the field

into the night,

to the endless dance

of dragons.

(C) 1986 Joelle M. Wilson

The Mindful Muse

So far this month I have crafted 16 poems. Not all of them are finalized. I’m letting them simmer at the moment. Letting the creative imaginings seep deep within the words until the time is right and I carefully edit them. Pruning, dissecting, analyzing, and making them complete.

This poem is still in transition but I’m posting it anyway. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂

Music Is My Muse

April 6, 2012

Music is muse.

A sacred circle of rhythms and vision.

Creating within me a beauty of words that free fall from my mind,

through my hands to the page.

 

Music is my muse.

 

All music inspires an attack of letters that coalesce and spin into

a diatribe of nothingness, of oneness, of things separate and together.

 

These words torture my brain until I allow them escape to the pages, then and only then,

will I rest. When these ideas and thoughts have found a home, I feel at home, at peace.

 

Music is my muse.

 

And I am descended upon day and night by the call to write, to create a world for you to fall into.

 

A place to rest your mind, a place to find your inspiration. A home for your wayward mind to relax and be at peace for the length of a word, a sentence, a paragraph and page.

 

Music is my muse.

 

I give in to my muse, I give in to the ideas, I give in to the words that break through. I must give in. I have to release things upon the pages of my world.

 

There is a need within me to feed my muse. A need within to heed my muse. A call within my soul. A transistor that radiates, that meditates, a frequency that I hear. A place that is home to me is within the words.

 

Music is my muse.

 

It plays upon my soul and my heart. Forever beating inside me, forever making me a part of itself.

 

My words are music to the muse within me and she dances while I write. She dances while I sing and play. She dances as I breathe life into these words. Then we dance together and the music plays on.