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Sunday, 24 March 2019


Eddie Bluelights 

Locks Horns with Carrie Van Horn's latest prompt 


The Muse #48

Like my new Thinking Hat? 

The old one is getting a bit tired.

I needed at least one of them for this prompt ~ this one is most taxing, so I called in the cavalry in the form of alliteration to get me through. So here goes!

Photo by Skitterphoto from Pexels

Awful acoustics

Astonishingly antediluvian antique audio apparatus actually amplifies atrocious acoustically adjusted amplitudes across airways, absolutely and awfully, abysmally ~ abundant apologies!

Ardently and acclaimed amorously absorbing arias, all alleged as authentic, are assaulted astronomically and abound avec astounding accelerating artless atrophy.

 Ancient anthems, astute arrangements, accurate augmentations, ascending arpeggios, artistic a-cappellas, ambitious allegros, attractive andantes, awe-inspiring allegretto arrangements ~ all annoy au-fait, artful, attentive, academic and authoritative audiences. 

Any available appointed accompanists are assassinated alarmingly.

Awkward atmosphere appears auspiciously as
antiquated apparatus assaults audio antennae avec abundant above average amplification.

Stylus scratches stifle sound, screeching sopranos suppress sensational symphonic sentimental songs ~ so sorry!

Terrible tenors totally terrify.

Ambitious altos annihilate accepted amplification.

Big booming bases burst blood-vessels.

Baying, barking baritones bellow, belittling beautiful ballads. 

Celebrated choirs cause controversial counterpoint.

Overall orchestrations obliterated obtusely.

Detail denied drastically

Melodic music mockingly muffled.

* * * * * * * 

Autopsy authorised . . asylum activated . . . lol

* * * * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights
24 March 2019

My mother used to call sopranos,

Dying ducks in a thunderstorm

I imagine this contraption would give her no cause to change her mind, if she heard one.

Once again Carrie, thank you  for stimulating our cerebral hemispheres.


More poets to join our preponderance or pandemonium of poets circle.

Join in at Carrie's, at The Sunday Muse, by pressing . . .  HERE

Saturday, 16 March 2019


Sometimes I wake up with strange ideas, and today was no exception. 
I got to thinking what might be the collective noun for a group of poets to describe us, and do you know, I don't think there is one.

I was thinking something akin to:

A congress of crows
A conspiracy of ravens

(Could have used those lines in the recent  Magic Love Crow post, couldn't I?)


A flamboyance of flamingos
A pandemonium of parrots

Surely we cannot describe ourselves as:

A herd of poets
A gaggle of poets . . . lol

Any ideas?

How about a preponderance of poets . . . lol
A pandemonium of poets . . . lol

No doubt you will have some suggestions

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Now to the business of the day,

The Sunday Muse #47

Once again Carrie, thank your most interesting prompt.



Girl Bird
Image Source 

I look deeply into those bright piercing green eyes,
Framed by beauty and long green hair to match your feathered friend.
Your human form intrigues me, challenges me,
Causing me to search your into soul; probing, questioning.

I strive to make a connection to satisfy my curiosity,
Endeavouring to match any known equivalence
To contradict my narrow and limited experience.
Yet I fail, utterly, to grasp the true meaning of what I see.

You are at one, each with the other,
Knowing the others' thoughts and desires.
Words are not necessary, yet you communicate,
As if somehow the bird is an extension of your being.

Your trusty companion knows no fear,
She perches willingly upon your hand,
Awaiting conversation from your lips. 
It is almost as if she is you, and you are her.

I am confused, yet somehow I feel, in time,
Those lips may speak an answer to my curiosity.
Perhaps you strive for freedom, just like that bird
Which is only a fanciful imagination of your spirit.

Yet somehow I feel your secret will remain outside my reach for ever.
Fly high, my beauty, spread your wings and touch the sky.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Eddie Bluelights
16 March 2019

We are always looking to expand our flock, or 'preponderance'.

To reach Carrie's page, The Sunday Muse, please press HERE
with a nice sharp pencil and notepad.


Sunday, 10 March 2019


The Muse #46

Thank you Carrie for this week's prompt, hand picked by Chrissa (also thank you)

'Farm Truck Filled With Flowers' by Floret 
If you want a copy of this lovely print you can get it HERE

(The more I look at it, the more I like it)


Blooms packaged with emotion
Speak from our hearts, with pure devotion.
This truck-full now is on it's way
So we can make a special day.

They speak with love for every reason
No matter, what, and for each season.
There's nothing close that has such power,
As the love within a single flower.

Words alone cannot compare,
If given, when you really care,
Each bloom contains a magic spell
To wish one happiness and 'be well',

They speak to all the broken hearted

When loved ones die and are departed.
A loving wish can help to heal
Those with a loss and a low down feel.

A baby girl, a baby boy!
New life on Earth and with such joy!
They're welcome into our earthly dwelling,
Even with their incessant yelling.

Sometimes we convey 'happy', sometimes it is 'sorry',
Sometimes it is 'well done', sometimes it is 'worry'.
Sometimes it may be a simple 'thank you',
Sometimes it's a plea to a soul, "I love you!" 

Flowers given can melt a lady's heart,
Her resistance will flee from her, and depart.
She may love you more than words can say,
If you speak from your soul words of love night and day.

If your message is honest, and is always sincere,
She will come to adore you, have not a fear.
She will hand over the keys of her heartstrings to you,
In exchange for some flowers ~ she will always be true.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eddie Bluelights
10 March 2019

(In reality, there is a likelihood that the sentiments in the last two verses will simply not work. She is still much more likely to choose a jerk!! . . . lol)

Once again Carrie, thank you for your prompt, and to Chrissa too.
We are still looking for more members to join our happy flock.

To reach Carrie's page, The Sunday Muse, please press HERE

Saturday, 2 March 2019


The Muse #45

"Be Free" by Magic Love Crow


What trickery is this?
'Beware!', I say again, 'Beware!'
Behold, an avian wolf in sheep's clothing.
She strives to lure and enslave all unsuspecting souls.
To bind them for ever into an unfriendly alien kingdom.

She masquerades as a benevolent matchmaker,
Promoting freedom and the promise of unending love.
Yet she is a Raven through and through,
A demonic general, commanding all her legions,
In a network which pollutes and poisons all around us.

Like a Magpie she will thieve and steal all who are precious,
All who are clad in bright attractive righteousness,
To suppress and darken their hopes and their desires for ever.
She will abduct all who she may conquer high amongst the trees,
To their Rooks' nest prisons, where only vipers dare to tread. 

The air is filled with their unending conversation,
A cacophony of 'caws' to invade the silence of the day.
Shouting aloud fake 'freedom' to lure all who will dare to listen. 
Their wings beat strongly in search of a friendly thermal
On which they may rest and soar aloft to seek and find their prey.

* * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights
3 March 2019

Thought I 'd be devil's advocate here and do the opposite, perhaps, to others.

Sorry, crow family, you are quite nice really and I discovered that Ravens in particular are very intelligent creatures. And before today I did not know Magpies and Jays are part of the crow family.

To all my new friends on The Sunday Muse I wish you a happy weekend and a wonderful March.

Once again Carrie, thank you for your prompt, and to Magaly too.

To reach Carrie's page, The Sunday Muse, please press HERE

Tuesday, 26 February 2019


Thank you Carrie for your interesting and challenging prompt. I don't know any Irish ladies so I have had to improvise.

It seems that Saturday posting is a good move because we have quite a lot more participating this week.

The Muse #44

"Ireland" by Emily Soto, fashion photographer

Lady Chameleon, donned with a living and interwoven camouflage.
You fail to escape my gaze, and you are discovered.
Don't be shy, I mean no harm and will not trespass too far into your comfort.
Your autumn red and gold and green apparel suits you well,
Framing your beauty around those pale, delicate features and head of jet black raven hair.

Who are you?

I would wish to speak with you, to probe those ideas and thoughts within you.
For you ooze mystery and fascination and the secrets of a strange and bygone age,
Somehow, a step or two outside all known reality and present tradition.
Yet you are a jewel set brightly against any dark and murky day.

Who are you?

I can hear laughter and joy within you, striving to be set free and come alive,
Your Irish humour cannot hide and is bursting to be set free.
Your serious countenance cannot persevere,
For I know I am the catalyst and the instrument for this rescue.

Who are you?

I see a smile, battling for supremacy and worth a thousand days,
And then a laugh, like music to stir the very soul within us.
Then you step forth with outstretched hand and speak with the voice of melody.
"Craic Agus Ceol!" is what you say, and laugh to a symphony of heart throbs.

Who are you?

Again, you say those magic words, "Craic Agus Ceol" and laugh once more in a crescendo of melodic counterpoint,
"It means we had fun and music!" 
 . . . . . and then you took my hand.

Your laughter captivated every living fibre and every hearts desire.
You smiled and said, "That's a Gas" and noticed some confusion on my brow.
"That means, it's funny! . . . share with me."
"Come with me and I will teach you more.

For . . . I like you.

Come Riverdance with me for all eternity".

Eddie Bluelights
26 February 2019

What a beautiful accent the Irish have, especially her. I can hear her magnetic voice within me.

(You see, I can still 'pull them' . . . lol)

The group is looking for new members. If you fancy joining you are most welcome at The Sunday Muse.  To reach Carrie's website at the Sunday Muse please press HERE

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, 20 February 2019


Once again, Carrie, thank you for your interesting prompt. I was really 'stumped' over this one for a couple of days until a possible  theme came to light, so here goes.

The Sunday Muse #43

Photography by David Nam Lip Lee

I am torn between two opposite and overwhelming forces.
I am pulled apart relentlessly and I don't know which way to walk.
I am lost in a swelling sea of indecision,
Causing this persistent and unending dilemma,
 Which cries out aloud in anquish from the hilltops.
My loyalties are divided in equal measure,
and I am at the crossroads of my fate,
Balanced precariously on a knife edge of two outcomes.

My ancestors and the genes within me plead that I remain,
For I am a Suri kid, a member of that proud Sun Tribe.
Here I am loved and well protected under the iron fist of Suri culture.
Yet these same bands are restrictions, which imprison me, 
Stifle my individuality and curb my sense of adventure.

Should my existence remain within this restricted sphere of predictability?
Where all tomorrows are well sketched and chronicled?
Where challenges and uncertainty and inventiveness are curtailed?  
Or should I strive to break from free from their bondage,
Into a new dawn where each tomorrow is individual and unmapped?  
Where I alone can master my own fate, for good or bad, success or failure?

My descendants plead the other case, as antagonistic equals,
Speaking with such force as an unstoppable waterfall,
Cascading ideas and desires as if shattering into a million fragments.
Each light beam refracts anew into endless colours of opportunity and freedom.
Shall I make a stand for freedom or shall I remain in bondage?

Our life is threatened by our ever changing and invading world, 
Tradition is pushed back by ever expanding modernism,
And just like all those magnificent beasts who dwell beside us,
We are contained within our own incompatible sphere.
How long we can continue our tradition only the sun god knows.

There is more to life than cattle
and stick fighting
and tribal feuds


There are evils in the outside world
Unwelcomed and full of contamination


I am too young to dwell upon these matters.
I will put off my decision until another day.

* * * * * * * * * *

Eddie Bluelights
20 February 2019

The group is looking for new members. If you fancy joining you are most welcome.

To reach Carrie's website at the Sunday Muse please press HERE

Monday, 11 February 2019


Thank you Carrie for your prompt.
Very thought provoking!!

The Sunday Muse #41

War Horse and Peace Horse"  by Sue Halstenberg

Immortal opposites tussle and spar for victory,
Waking from their whirlpool of suspended animation,
They are driven by timeless fear and impending apocalypse,
For they both know annihilation is at their door. 

When will we ever learn?

Just like insatiable lust and thirst for power,
They remain deadlocked on their knife edged pivot,
Finely balanced, yet each holding back its rival.
For they dare not permit a single drop of escalation.

When will we ever learn?

They make their stand; eye to eye, face to face.
Neither will yield, or cross forbidden lines.
Their threatened universe is held within their hands.
Blood and death must be neutralised with love.

When will we ever learn?

Peace must be strong and War held in subjection,
Or it will spread like a rampant, devouring cancer.
The ghosts of war line up to testify, in their hordes,
The futility of their demise and wasteful carnage.

When will we ever learn?

Twice War prevailed to work satanic malice.
It's four apocalyptic steers plagued each soul within their grasp,
To maim and slay each victim to their symphony of evil,
Orchestrated and conducted by demonic tyrants.

When will we ever learn?

Their course was run, their murder was complete
All was destroyed and War had had its fill. 
Peace ascended from the murky depths once more
With War bridled by a flimsy, feeble thread.

When will we ever learn?

And now that ulimate deterrent rules supreme
And even War is terrified should he ever be unleashed.
Mankind's abject belligerence may tip the scales once more,
For he will never learn to settle scores without a fight.

When will we ever learn?

* * * * * * * * * *

Eddie Bluelights
11 February 2019

The group is looking for new members. If you fancy joining you are most welcome.

To reach Carrie's website at the Sunday Muse please press HERE