Thursday, February 24, 2011

Thursday February 24, 2011/We Write Poems/A Small Stone/Three Word Wednesday/ Theme Thursday


We Write Poems: Prompt #43 Guardian Angel
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/

Guardian Angel
I pride myself as a person
With both feet upon the ground
Grounded in thought and deed
But I am an artist by profession
And I know for sure
Sometimes when I create
"I" have nothing to do with it
Especially if it works
Then it is called the muse,
Or Angel...or
Guardian Angel

For me the muse is "she"
You never know when she will appear
To give advice or guidance
Or to save your life,
It is important to be at your post
To be ready,
If she comes by
And you are engaged
She will not disturb

You will know her
She speaks with a small quiet voice
She will encourage
She will support
She watches over you
She enters the room quietly
She may be there for
Sometime before she
Makes her presence known
You may not see her
But you will know her

The lesson here is
Do not waste your time
Be ready each day
She will come again
And you will be there
To greet her
To receive her gifts
She is your guardian angel






We Write Poems Prompt: A safe place
A Small Stone

A point of safety
An illusion
Without existence
But we see it
Clearly in our
Own minds

Three Word Wednesday Prompt: Juicy, Stress, and Figure

To speak of that place
Is juicy conversation
We can conjure
Spooky ghost stories
Spine-tingling tales
There is no stress
To talk about it
But I figure
If I had to go alone
I might be over come


http://themethursday.blogspot.com/2011/02/thursday-february-24-2011-point.html
Theme Thursday Prompt: Point

A Point of Safety
Of lighthouses
I have known only one
On Aransas Bay
We would see it
When we went out
To fish in the surf

It was good to see it
A point safety
It was like returning home
You turn onto the road
Where you live
See your own house
There it stands
Exactly as you left it
All is well

It is said
We like to "get lost"
Because we like to
Find our way "home"
Exactly as you left it
All is well

It is to come up
Out of the canyon
To get that first glimpse
Of the little village
In the valley
Where you live
Where people have
Lived for all times
Returning home
Point of safety
There it stands
Exactly as you left it

Your Mother"s face
Sift through your past
Like so many
Black and white photos
All is there in memory
Nothing is lost
Exactly as you left it
All is well

Return to the
Arms of your lover
It is as if you
Have never been away
A point of safety,
A touchstone
A mountain
You have found
Your way home
Exactly as you left it
All is well

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

I so enjoyed these poems! I listen carefully for 'the small, quiet voice' of my own muse, so she knows I do not forget her. She always finds her way back to me as I always hope to find my way home...

Lynette

Elizabeth said...

Annell, you cover so much ground, don't know where to begin to do them all justice. I like the idea of seeing the muse as your guardian angel. Thank you as always,

Elizabeth

Suz said...

oh my you have been a busy beaver poet
and well done I may add
yes, be ready
the universe can give it to someone else
can't it

Lyn said...

Wonderful!!..Always prepared to greet my muse..when something comes so quickly ,I feel that I've been channeling a sort of good writer!

SandyCarlson said...

We are never alone so long as we have our muses. And when they are happy, it's all very pleasantly amusing.

I really enjoy your poems.

Peace.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wow, so many profound, insightful and loving poems. I loved every single one and identified with them all. Love the poem about the muse, the guardian angel.........and also, very much, about finding one's way home, where everything is just as you left it, and all is well. Lovely.

Brian Miller said...

smiles. these are all great...love the lighthouse imagery...one of my fav symbols of hope...that we can share with each other...

Reflections said...

Love all of these, especially the Point of Safety, returning to those places, pointing us directions in our lives. Beautifully penned works.

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