Magic twines around her fingers,
watching, she soon finds that it lingers,
spreading itself across the world,
as her feet persistantly pound the sand.
Carried off by mental pictures,
she finds herself in no way strictured
by the mundane brains as slowly they unfurl.
She simply walks around, a-staring at her hands.
Picking up some dust which is then tossed from the bluff,
at wind's command, waves curl up the shore in quite a huff.
And still she walks serene, at home,
upon the midnight water's edge.
Icy breeze dances around her soft bare skin,
loose clothes billowing as a curtain.
But in the weather's rage, she's still alone,
still walks for sake of an ag-old pledge.
Careering through the murky night,
she finds a soul that does not fight.
Reaching hands out to long closed eyes,
the distracting magic of her hands can finally be used.
Before too long, her work is done,
her gift leant, for now, to some-lucky-one.
Smiling gently as upwards she does rise,
her work complete, the Poet's muse...
Author notes
The flame of creation is what distracts the muse in her hands as she treks along the beach, hence the title.
Enjoi!
A contest entry
- Stimulate my mind !! take a peek its open canvas by Laura.
1300 points, ended December 9, 2007, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Feedback please! Your eyes' words help my vision... :-)
Comments
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what a wonderful poem you certainly worked hard on this little number well done to ya and good luck in the contest xx
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Beautiful!!! I absolutely love your picture. It fits the poem perfectly. And the muse most certainly affected you in this poem. A beautiful ode for a beautiful goddess that we all owe credit to in the realm of poetry. Splendid job!
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