. Poetry from The Great In-Between: The Writers Monologue

Monday, November 21, 2022

The Writers Monologue

 



(A lone voice whispers)



We and all

Our kin 



Are like the many unknown names 

Courageously written and weaved



Into

The Secret Books of History 



Many would never believe



Souls

Mysteriously walking upon wet shores 



Of a fourth planet 

Spinning in the deepest of space



Our devotion holding us

Knee deep in rivers of love or hate 



In the human race



As if we were nearly buried alive



And with newly empowered adrenalin-filled eyes 



We witness daily

The stunning emotional explosions worldwide  



And like worshippers of rediscovered Old Gods



We try to create a new written 



Golden Age of Byzantium in words



Filled with only fine art and poetic pieces 



We 

The word shapers who hide in the wild woods of our keeps



Where we sleep 

By firelight



Until the moon rises and kisses her lover 



Father Sky



Announcing us to wake 



To then slowly write on soft pages 



In our own

Books of Red Pleasure



Stories 



To be perused and used 

By soft fingertips 



And lonely hearts  

For their own inquisitions 



And at their leisure



We will write about seeing the true face of the world 



As the Wolf Moon rises



As we lie sated 



Upon the ever-flowing Sands of Fate 



We will record

For historical footprints 



In Digital ink



How the new forms of circumscription begin



We will create unique raw 

intuitive insights 



In the longest of nights 



Creating legacies

Which may ignite minds



To be then lit up 



Like Guy Fawkes on Bonfire night 



Heralding a new vision 



Of a twisted version of a place 



Corrupted by the father of temptation and the power of the pound or dollar 



To invoke sin



And as we look on 

As old empires fall



We will pray to the skies 

Like primitive tribes 



For we are but some of the mythical Narrators



Eternal Scribes

Who'll never grow old 



We 

Who create a millennium of hidden stories



In time 



Simply to hijack any inquisitive minds 



They can find



For 

We are just reborn endlessly as poets 


Writers and

Singer-songwriters today 



No longer

Residents of any known time frames 



That can seduce

And lead you into 



The Brown Fields of Disarray



But just souls sentenced again 



From The Purple Story Houses 



In The Great In-Between



To feed curious minds

Which are perpetually ravenous for shorties



Just like you 



To explore these few words 

With an overwhelming need  



To consume 



Short enchanting new glorious stories like these 


Written by firelight 

In my holy room 


Thanks for reading and until the next time. 


Remember, it's great to à deux!



Readers and writers 

Do it all the time


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Circumscription


In this context:

Restrict (something) within limits.


A Deux 


Adjective . : involving two people especially in private. A cozy evening à deux.


Image shared under fair usage policy from Pinterest.

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