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Saturday, 7 December 2019

PLEASE CHOOSE ME


The Sunday Muse #85


My word, the weeks fly by, don't they?

Once again The Sunday Muse comes around.

I thought this prompt was very appealing so I just thought I would let the little kitten speak for itself

Thank you Carrie for this great prompt.



PLEASE CHOOSE ME


Photography by Guy Kawasaki


Please choose little me.
I hope you will agree.
I'm sort of cute and fluffy
Though I'm also rather scruffy.
Will you adopt me?
Other's have dropped me.
Can I share your home
Where I can freely roam?


You might well be smitten
With me now as a kitten.
I can't promise I will stay
In this form and in this way,
For one day I will grow.
Will you tell me then to go?
I'll still be the same me
Could I stay?  So please agree.


I'll sit there on your lap
And have a long, long nap.
While you gently stroke my fur
And I will gently purr.
If you don't show me rejection
I'll give you my affection
And bring to you a mouse
or a bird into your house.


Please choose little me
I hope you will agree.



Eddie Bluelights
7 December 2019




To reach The Sunday Muse please press HERE



Sunday, 1 December 2019

CULINARY DISASTERS



The Sunday Muse #84



Culinary Disasters On The Wall

The evidence in my kitchen is plain to see
My cooking is wanting to the nth degree.
Years of grime and greasy fat
Cling to walls of my one bed flat.

With huge high hopes I read each recipe
I read each twice with sheer necessity.
Ingredients prepared with loving hands
Made it safely to my pots and pans.

All went well until the cooking,
Was it something I'd been overlooking?
Because each heartbreaking burnt disaster,
Spattered walls and the ceiling plaster

My simple intentions to inspire
Ended in a raging chip pan fire.
It's a wonder I am alive to tell
Frequent disasters which did not go well.

That explains the wall erosion
Years and years of pan explosion.
Now I do not cook at all
It's ready meals from the local stall.



Eddie Bluelights
1 December 2019


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To reach The Sunday Muse press HERE


Sunday, 20 October 2019

CONFUSED PERSPECTIVES



The Sunday Muse #78

The Sunday Muse is with us once more. Thank you Shay for this interesting prompt.
I had to look twice, then thrice . . . 



Today's image is called "The Architect"
and is done by 
ERIK JOHANSSON.
Visit him at
https://www.erikjo.com/


CONFUSED PERSPECTIVES

Crumpled paper on the floor,
Attempts at logic by the score.
The architect is 'stretched' it seems
To make sense of his house of dreams.
It works alright until the roof,
And then he thinks, "Another goof!"
Two inside walls, a desk, a floor
Would make some sense with two walls more.


This would solve inside dimensions,
With him inside, with great intentions.
Just like a confused and frightened fly
He tries and tries to work out why 
The roof he's drawn looks just not right
No matter which angle meets his sight.
Two more attempts end in crumpled paper.
Just as he thinks, "I'll end this caper".


"Eureka! he shouts, "I believe I've got it
"All my attempts 'til now were not it.
"I know now how Archimedes felt
When he to science his theory dealt.
The roof is strange, I've drawn it wrong.
The length is short, the width is long.
In fact they are drawn out the wrong way
A 90% turn should work out okay. 


Then the perspective should work out right.
And not to onlookers be a confusing sight.




Eddie Bluelights
20 October 2019



To reach The Sunday Muse, please press HERE





Monday, 7 October 2019

THE CALAMITOUS CELLIST



The Sunday Muse #76

I am a little late to the party this week, but better late than never.
Something a bit different this week.

Thank you once again Carrie, for another thought provoking prompt.


"The Weight of Groans" Photography by Julie de Waroquier
Click here to see her website


The Calamitous Cellist


Clothing catastrophe cruelly causes classical concert cancellation. 
Cross, celebrated cellist curtails concerto composition, collapsing catastrophically, causing considerable concern.

Confidence curtailed, confused cellist, colouring copiously, cannot continue cello counterpoint, capitulating, categorically ceasing countless creative crotchets. Curtains!!! Crisis!! Crumbs!!

Cackling, cheering, criticising crowd cautiously claps, cello covers cellist's crushing chagrin, causing constant consternation. 

Chivalrous, compassionate conductor cleverly covers crying cellist, ceasing continued confusion, concocting comforting consolation.







Eddie Bluelights 
7 October 2019



Press HERE for The Sunday Muse.





Saturday, 7 September 2019

I AM A MAN EATER


The Sunday Muse #72

Getting my teeth stuck into the latest prompt.

Thank you, Carrie





I AM A MAN EATER

Fear not little girl
You are quite safe with me
I eat just men and boys, you see
So my menu's not got thee.

So do not speak too lowly
And make sure your hair's not short
Or I will get so hungry,
And will kill you just for sport.

For I am just a man eater
And I leave you girls alone
And not eat you piece by piece
And not chew bone by bone.

I may still look ferocious, 
And show a tooth or two.
But if they're inside my muzzle.
They will not you bite or chew.

But if you punch me in the face
Instead of kissing me
I might forget just what I am.
And have you for my tea.



lol


Eddie Bluelights
7 September 2019




To reach the Sunday Muse press HERE

Sunday, 1 September 2019

A CLOSE BRUSH WITH DEATH


The Sunday Muse #70

Thank you Carrie for this challenging prompt.
Give me a petty face and I always try to summon inspiration, so here goes.



A Close Brush With Death

Photography by Ali Falak Image Source


We thought you had gone,
To abandon this last remaining Earthly coil,
To flee this light into an unknown darkness, awaiting all.
You whispered Adieux from those sweet and gorgeous lips.
As that most unwelcome reaper grimly tightened his grip,
Too soon and far ahead of his appointed hour.
We shed our tears of sadness as your vessel sailed away,
Or so it seemed to us at that most dreadful hour.

Yet a flicker of life fought a stunning rearguard action.
You refused to obey all those cruel ropes tugging at your soul.
A hint of colour brushed across your lovely face
And life was again breathed gently into your soul and spirit,
Our heartbeats grew stronger to match your rejuvinated pulse.
And we wept with joy as we once more saw those open beautiful eyes.




Eddie Bluelights 1st September 2019





To reach the Sunday Muse please press HERE



Once again, thank you Carrie


Thursday, 15 August 2019

A MYRIAD OF CICADAS


The Wednesday Muse

Hosted by Toni at Kanzensakura


Thank you Toni for this most interesting of prompts.
Until yesterday I did not know what a Cicadas is and I duly researched them on the net. There are 3000 different species, their life cycles are by no means the same. One particular species struck me, having a life cycle of 17 years, there is another of 13 years, but some are annual, and others biannual. I hope the accompanying video is playable all round the world because it is fascinating.



But first to the writing.


A MYRIAD OF CICADAS


They come in legions at their appointed hour,
Multitudes, multitudes like grains of sand upon the shore.
They emerge from the darkness of the earth by night, in unison, 
As if commanded by the grand master of their universe.
Legions, thousands, multitudes, numbering like the stars in the heavens,
All marching into the light of day,
All with the same endeavour after their enforced imprisonment.
Seventeen years, deep beneath the ground as nymphs of the night.
Solitary, root sucking, waiting as if forever for their call. 
They hear it and respond as one for their goal, a festival of life,
A vast orgy of the skies, they move ever forward for that reward.
They are greeted by hungry, cruel mouths, awaiting their feast of plenty, the like their eyes have always been denied.
And still they come, replaced by more and ever more fat grubby nymphs, for that great encounter.
They climb into the trees, high, and ever higher and pause to find a friendly leaf.
They rest and cling to that leaf and by daybreak cast off that hideous outer shell, still clinging,
To emerge as beautiful winged creatures of delight, 
The female waits for loud calls to mate, and she has her pick from males of plenty.
Again, but now as wnged creatures, they are but fodder to cruel and hungry mouths, 
Yet these mouths are silenced as all are gorged and full in plenty.
Still more replace them as they find a partner, if for just for one brief treasured moment in time.
Their love affair is but fleeting and their job is done.
Eggs are laid and when hatched migrate to safety into the ground,
And their parents wilt, wither and die, such was their lifelong task.
The hungry predators will never feast again like this,
For this mass emergence will be denied to the forest for yet another seventeen years.







* * * * * * * * * * 

Not a poem as such because I wanted to convey a lot of information.

Gosh 17 years of solitude, then when a chance of some fun comes along, you die before you get an encore.
Makes you wonder if it is all worth it . . lol



To reach The Wednesday Muse press HERE.

Saturday, 10 August 2019

MAMMA, I HEAR THE SEA


The Sunday Muse #68

Thank you Carrie for this interesting prompt.
It prompted a bit of a 'tear jerker' response, so I advise a box of tissues.

Photography by Edouard Boubat

Mamma, I hear the waves breaking gently onto a shingled shore,
The sea speaks to me and tells me all our hidden secrets.
Like the times I paddled and it gently kissed my feet,
And cooled me on those hot lazy sunny afternoons.
The times I ran and splashed all along that boiling, frothy surf,
When the air resounded with my laughter and the seagulls swooped and smiled.
It held me gently as I swam ashore that kind and unkind day,
It picked me up and helped me with its loving tide.
It tried so hard to help my Daddy too,
And fought an undercurrent which cruelly took him out to sea.
It's incoming tide lost influence, then the fight eclipsed with sadness,
And my Daddy from that day became just a loving memory.

The shell echoed my loss and with a sympathetic voice,
Crying endless tears of sorrow as each wave caressed and lapped the shore. 









Eddie Bluelights
10 August 2019



To reach The Sunday Muse, please press HERE


Friday, 9 August 2019

SPREAD YOUR WINGS IN GLORY


The Wednesday Muse


Thank you Toni for this interesting prompt.
Many apologies for my lengthy absence.


WINGED MIRACLE


Spread your wings, my beautiful creature.
Bask in the sun and drink in that sweet and treasured nectar of life.
For your existence is but the passing of a morning cloud,
Yet time enough for you to flutter while you find a mate.
Contemplate, reflect upon your long lonely journey,
When you crawled on your belly, gorging ravenously,
Ugly and unwanted you went to sleep,
And discarded your outer hideous countenance.
Your inner beauty transformed into a winged tapestry
Your wings pumped up by a myriad of swelling vessels.
Behold I see a miracle which not a soul can fathom.
You took to the air and fluttered high into the breezy sky 
To give us joy and happiness.




Eddie Bluelights
8 August 2019




To reach The Wednesday Muse, press HERE





Saturday, 3 August 2019

IF ONLY I COULD ASSEMBLE THE PIECES



The Sunday Muse #67

I am back and I like this prompt very much.
Apologies for my absence. I feel rather like the prodigal son returning

Thank you Carrie, nice one.


Photo by Thiago Matos from Pexels


Held Captive

So, you reveal a piece of your existence to me,
A piece from the many, shattered and scattered far from my life.
I told you a piece or two is not enough, and will not satisfy my broken soul.
You are held captive, and will not give me the whole of your heart.
The keys to your heart is the price for my love, No more or no less.
Yet you feed me scraps of your life when you know it is all or nothing.
If you really loved me you would ask me to repair all those broken chances we lost.
All that we had, and all we enjoyed, 
All those bright stars of promise, now dimmed against a darkened sky.
Perhaps this jigsaw is an impossible fix so those pieces lost to me should remain lost for ever.


Goodbye 
and 
Get lost . . lol
Temper, temper!



Eddie Bluelights
3 August 2019


Thank you Carrie.
The Sunday Muse is HERE
   

Monday, 24 June 2019

WE BRIDGE THE OCEAN IN OUR DREAMS



The Sunday Muse #61


Thank you Carrie for this inspiring prompt.


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We Bridge The Ocean In Our Dreams

Photo Artistry by Erik Johansson Master Photo-manipulation Artist

Oceans apart, you are so far from me, out of my reach,
Beyond that forbidden line at our horizons edge.
A forbidden line which separates and divides,
And keeps us disunited and out of that elusive true reality.

I dream we somehow bridge that cruel crevass,
And find a way to paint a tapestry of life and hope.
A way so I can make a deep connection to your soul
And walk into your life hand in hand to span eternity. 

Perhaps then we can add some colour to our lonely sky,
To kiss those rescued rejuvenated clouds, 
Their linings touched with silver from the dawning sun,
We can fly as freely as those birds on high.



Eddie Bluelights
24 June 2019



Press HERE to reach The Sunday Muse.



Monday, 27 May 2019

GUARDIAN ANGEL



The Sunday Muse #57


This week Carrie has posted an interesting photographic prompt taken by Susie Clevenger.

Thank you Susie for your wonderful photo.


Guardian Angel


"Protector" Photography by Susie Clevenger
To see her other beautiful photos click here



So, you think I look pensive.


It matters not one jot
Whether I am a Cherub or a Seraph.
I am tired and I am weary.
I may be ten feet tall and strong as stone,
But I am worked so hard and have no time to rest.
To be one's Guardian Angel is so challenging.
Our subjects wander into danger more often than they realise.
Why, twice today I plucked my friend from the jaws of death.
Both instances were close calls requiring me to stop time itself.
I had to, or he would have been lost in motor accidents. 
Twice in a day! Imagine it!!
Of course he did not realise any of it,
And he did not see me ~ he never does.
It's not permitted when I am forced to act.
Yes, he did not realise that he was in the slightest danger.
Yet somehow he knows I am with him always, and I look after him.
He has known that, always, and takes great comfort from it.
He calls me whenever he is frightened or overwhelmed
With life's endless complications and impossibilities.
I am always there for him, as my Father decreed, 
From the very day that he was born.
From the very day I earned my wings.

Call me Clarence.




Eddie Bluelights
27 May 2019


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To reach Carrie's website for The Sunday Muse, press HERE


and Toni runs The Wednesday Muse, press HERE



Friday, 24 May 2019

REFLECTIONS



The Wednesday Muse #9


This week Toni has set a theme of Anniversary.

Thank you.

I have chosen a piece I wrote shortly after my wife died. 
It is not a poem as such but a piece of lyrical prose which captures the emotions I was experiencing at the time.
 Each year I read it on 26 April, the day she passed, six years ago. 
I found writing and reading it helped me enormously to express my emotions, until I finally adjusted to the new situation and I am happy again.

I would like to share this with you.



REFLECTIONS



He glances back at me, wistful and forlorn. 
 He looks again intently from within a sombre and totally unfamiliar perspective; 
a place where he does not want to be, a place where his preferred emotions of joy and happiness now cannot live.  


These more welcome feelings are eclipsed in total by dark lingering shadows of despair, longing and sorrow, emanating and surfacing endlessly from his broken heart and orchestrated so cruelly by his tortured mind.

His face I know so well, yet somehow he is a stranger to me;
 for his expression now contradicts all known recognition. 
Our eyes meet once more and as they do so I see only a look of utter sadness and sorrow, written and etched deeply and emphatically upon his troubled face, as if his very being is transfixed upon the object of his grief.

I sympathise and as I do so I realise his feelings are true and real for I know a mirror can never lie and that man’s grief is just a reflection of my own – feelings of deep loss, feelings of hopelessness and feelings of utter despair which threaten to haunt me for ever and tear the very heart from me and never leave me alone.

I look again and this time I notice a tear glisten in his eye, in sympathy with my own – a tear of love and longing for someone who is now absent from his life, yet remains the summit and focal point of his existence.  As I look again I see him pondering deep thoughts through his grief. 


Powerful and searching questions race across his wounded mind, as he contemplates the gravity, the magnitude and the implications of her absence and the shallow life he now has to live alone, as though part of him has been  ripped away, caused by her premature and cruel passing and stolen from him by the jaws of death.

His sad eyes look at me once more in earnest and plead for his lost identity, for that too died with her and now cannot be repaired.  
His soul searches his darkened world for an unbroken but lost personality; a former self he knew long ago – a man he liked and with whom he was fully at peace, for he knows only then might he find an inner man strong enough to carry him through his sorrow.

Yet somewhere, dredged from deep within his heart, hope slowly promises a rescue mission for his troubled soul – a rescue from all those uncomfortable and sombre emotions, weighing so heavily upon his fragility. 


His tear begins to fade for he knows a time will come when he and the lady of his life will be reunited. This time they will endure together in unimaginable eternal bliss, not for a mere 40 years of shared existence, here in this limited dimension.   

He holds on tightly to his lifeline of new-found embryonic hope which speaks and convinces that his former happiness is not lost for an eternity – just frozen for a while in time.  He realises a new dawn will arise, this time filled with light, joy, laughter and colour, and he himself at his appointed hour will pass through the gate of time and space to meet an angelic figure who will appear to him and greet him and welcome him into eternity with a smile so radiant his heart will burst with happiness. 


She will be young again and perfect in every way - no longer defiled by that vile and evil disease emanating straight from the pit of hell. 
Nothing and no-one will ever hurt her again and her laughter and joy will sing across the universe to the sound of running water, welling from the spring of life, as she once more places into the palm of his hand the keys to her heart, this time for ever.



copyright:  Eddie Bluelights September 2013
with modifications 24 May 2019


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To reach Toni at The Wednesday Muse, please press HERE


And Carrie runs the Sunday Muse, HERE

Saturday, 18 May 2019

A BLAST FROM THE PAST ~ FURY IN MOTION


The Sunday Muse #56


I have returned after a couple of weeks rest from poetry, but not physical rest because I have been busy redesigning my garden.

This week Fireblossom is hosting and has set this interesting girl and a motor cycle theme, which links nicely with a piece I am working on.  Thank you, Fireblossom.



Photo: You bring out the best in me



I love my bike.
It is me; I am at one with it,
and it is everything I could ever want.
Yet, my mind races back to another time,
When my dad's bike ruled the world.
I cannot help remembering what it spoke to me.
Strange words, as if spoken by The Bard himself.
For this bike had class and the voice of Shakespeare alone could do it justice.

* * * * * * 


A Blast from the Past

FURY IN MOTION

Behold this regal masterpiece of classical tradition;
Fashioned by genius ~ the pinnacle of man’s inventiveness.
My countenance conveys such majesty, such strength, such beauty,
Crafted as if by gods, and not mere mortal men.
My mighty chest doth heave and swell with worthy pride,
With endless praise and accolades which rain upon my person.

Consider then my purpose and exceptional design,
A powerhouse so supreme all others fall prostrate before me.
For while I but sleep, I am the object of awe and fascination,
For how could mere mortals conceive such true perfection?
What miracle doth inspire such thoughts to cause my very being,
As if the gods themselves had willed and demanded my creation?

Beneath my shimmering face of steel there lies a noble heart,
A mighty symphony of interwoven moving parts,
Which when conducted, will awaken and create such terror
That all creation shall know I am the rightful king of princes.
All those mere upstarts, who wouldst dare contest my reign,
Are not mine heirs but false pretenders to my throne.


Behold, I awake and stir and in due season set in motion
All those inward parts of muscle and steel sinew, 
Which wouldst cause those fools who dare rival my authority
To bow down one by one and kneel before their king.
I roar! A thunderous bellow of a roar ~ like a beast possessed.
Yet this is but a prelude to such marvels as my power within will fashion.

And now I rise to make the very air surrender to each blast of fury.
Hot gas and blood explode from deep within my furnace,
As each deep-throated roar progresses to my next astonishment.
Yet my powerhouse doth but idle and my real task not accomplished.
But in due season I shall reveal my true and terrifying majesty,
My pulsating heart and lungs shall spring to life with deafening ferocity.

Claps of heavy thunder cascade from deep within my bowels
To mute all lesser sounds as I dominate the very air.
For now my real power engages into drive, 
Propelling me to terrifying motion
In a cacophony of canon fire, with ever wild crescendo,
Commanding every face to turn with awe in my direction.

,
They bow and marvel at my charismatic presence.
Each clap of thunder causes wonder and admiration so profound.
As my mighty furnace shouts its domination to the heavens
For now I fly; I fly on eagle's wings and with all my energy now harnessed.
The chilling wind doth strive in vain to cool my raging furnace,
And whatever thrust required of me I shall meet in plenty.


Now hear this! 
All you pretenders, and mere princes who wouldst dare to have my crown:
Get in rank! – you shall not have it.
For your pedigree will not stand the test of time 

. . . . . . . . . like mine.



"Well, that was daddy's bike.
I have just a Ducati",
She said with a wink.

lol

(They are better)



Eddie Bluelights 18/5/2019
from a first draft 2009


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To reach Carrie's and Fireblossom's website for the Sunday Muse please press HERE


And Toni runs the Wednesday Muse . . . . HERE


We are looking for new members so all are invited.