Tag Archives: Written from Art

Unorthodox Treatment

Written for: Sunday Muse #182 Now, now, do not be afraid. Even though you cannot see it, my hair is in a braid. Most of my face is gone, hence a cone. All the better to poke you with, along … Continue reading

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Chess Pieces

Written for: Sunday Muse #181 Imposing pieces. there they stand on their squares patiently waiting for me. I have the power. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Lost On A Sunday

Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Prompt #354 – Edward Hopper “It seems the paintings and works of artist Edward Hopper are great fodder to inspire other artists in their endeavors. We as poets have come across this from time to … Continue reading

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Evening Perfection

Written for: Sunday Muse #180 Compact reflects dark painted eyes, perfectly lined lips. With her French manicure, she is secure about her meeting with a new client. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Seasons of a House

Written for: Sunday Muse #179 In Autumn leaves flutter, form a carpet ’round the house whose appearance shouts Winter. Slats seem faded and worn against gold blanket. When cold weather blows in, the frame will splinter. If only this house … Continue reading

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Marked

Written for: Sunday Muse #175 We are marked like bark. Scratched and scarred by life. Our bodies crack, hollows form in our trunks. We grow flimsy branch hair, where dancing blackbirds flit in and out, building their nests, as we … Continue reading

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A Puss’s Predicament

Written for: Sunday Muse #174 Promised myself one Catniptini. Now my ears are throbbing, my eyeballs are spinning. Worst of all, they will have to look for me, and they know exactly where I am–Paws and Stripes–my favorite hangout. The … Continue reading

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The Same Eyes

Written for: Sunday Muse #173 We have the same eyes, my little friend. I sing, and play to soothe the poor villagers. You cuddle up with them, and they feel loved. We each have our jobs to fulfill. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Waiting for Belle

Written for: Sunday Muse #172 (posted by Carrie) She does not understand. Why did her beloved Belle, resplendent in scarlet and pine green feathers, fly away. For five days she waits each morning, dragging the parrot’s cage to forest’s edge. … Continue reading

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Tangled Vines

Written for: Sunday Muse #171 Tangled vines like those of my mind leave their imprint in place of my heart. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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