Worlds Away

what the nomad brought home

The Traveler

The eyes may be the window to the soul
But the voice is the ticket for its journey,
Drawing, only if we’re lucky, the most intrepid of travelers
Like an irresistible siren song
To explore those depths within us,
Devouring the landscape with their eyes,
Illuminating the ancient corridors of spirit with golden fingerprints,
And tearing through the wildest jungles with flashes of insight,
But never trying to tame, no, relishing
The primal beast they find so submlimely seated
Somewhere in the being–
Enthroned on instinct,
Enrobed in the sumptuous trappings of human feeling,
Crowned with the dazzling jewels of articulation,
And wielding the precious sceptre of literacy.

So, traveler, perhaps our eyes have not yet met–
This time, at least,
But let me take you on this accidental journey
To the depths of my soul
Where we both might be surprised to find
That the lines of self begin to blur
In the blinding brilliance of my naked sincerity
And the earthy essence of your raw crusade for truth
Where you go seeking something palpable
On the timeless, winding river of words.

It’s hard to define what inspired this poem about the art of expression; I was watching “Laura non c’e” (Nek’s duet with Cerena).  Maybe it was the timelessness of the setting in the video, Nek and his absent muse, the tortured artists running frantically through some underground labyrinth, the beautiful illumination of the dark corridors they explore, I’m not sure….This poem is about even more than I am sure how to express in prose, so check out the video if you’re curious; maybe the imagery will convey what I cannot.

  

January 21, 2008 Posted by | muse, Poetry, Reincarnation, Wanderlust, Writing | , , , , | 2 Comments

Because writing is sexy!

Pull back the cover

I invite you

To take your pen

To this book

Those ink-stained hands

Should spread

The pages

Your pen

Can leave its strokes within.

I give you a question mark

With all its mystery

Its curves

Rounding downward to

That singularly provocative point

Where you can write your answer

With graceful plunges below the lines,

Playful dashes,

Teasing ellipses,

Decisive dots,

Languid loops,

And all the artful

Punctuation of your choosing.

What will you write for me?

Your pen is

Welcome to play

I will be your muse and

This book

Can be…

An adventure!

Of swashbuckling vagabonds and secret hideouts,

Buried treasure unearthed after some perilous voyage—

Or a poem

Of timeless verse and soul-born cadence,

So exquisite in its candor and instinctive to express—

Maybe an epic

Whose ancient threads and exotic places are

Woven together with the touch of your words to this page—

Or even, perhaps, a comedy

Of clumsy, carefree heroes who meet under some…

Ridiculous circumstance!  And smile at their flaws.

Now bring your pen

To the satin canvas I am ceding

Here between the covers.

Your barrel may empty

When the pages are full.

 

I dedicate this to the inventors of writing, whose names are forever lost to history but whose gift makes them immortal, and to each and every writer since — all of whom, of course, are sexy! Writing is a passionate act of creation that strips you bare every time. (And the reader too!)

If you found yourself inspired by this poem, please go out and buy a book — support the art! And if you found yourself inspired in the, ahem, *other* way, just be safe. 😉

December 30, 2007 Posted by | muse, Poetry, Sex, Woman, Writing | , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments