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Monday, 27 May 2019


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


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.


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


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.

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A Blast from the Past


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.


(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.