Site Meter
On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Monday, March 12, 2007

Because I'm Told to Do So

In the comments on another post I talked about the Muse being slightly upset with me. I must have been a good boy because she just dropped an interesting story bone in my head. Yes. Dark, foreboding, like that dream where you're trying to get someplace and just can't seem to get there. All of it. He he he. Yes, my darling, I'm listening, it is written down. From the ash bed stirs the flame waiting for tinder to ignite.

2 comments:

Todd Wheeler said...

Nice muse. If she starts writing honey-do lists though ... Just saying, stay away from the DIY home centers. ;-)

Steve Buchheit said...

She does that as well. Oh, wait, that's my wife whispering in my ear while I'm asleep. :)

The only "honey-do"s the muse give me are, "Why the (explicative) aren't your writing this story." And then the guilt trip starts. The huffing, the toe tapping, the stares, all until I get it out on paper.