Threshold

It's spring or the threshold of it at least the moment before the desecent. It's similar to being in a dream. Someone played piano today and as they played I wrote the images it intilled in me. A whole underwater palace was waiting for me. I decided to come to a conclusion about this( just cause I could and always do) The person whose fingertips can create whole worlds for people has a talent. Did I tell this person? No. Ummm oh yeah the conclusion. What I mean to get to eventually is. The person doesn't boast of any artistic talent but can paint the ivory. With all the colours of nature

Along the Riverbank

The willow who does it weep for?
In the scintillating blue
It's tears are very colourless
But they make up the river too
Set across a blue sky
The willow weeps some
Weeping so long now
Can't remember what it started for

When the tree evolved
Did it cry?
When great big bombs filled the sky?
When children, filled with their own tears sat beside it

No the willow weeps for weeping
It does not weep for you
It weeps the essence of weeping
Into the river blue
So then all the beings that love the river too
Get to see it sparkle
During day,sun,moon

Shadows

The stars light up thy face
Thy face looking in the window
Why so full of shadow thy face?
Why so full of shadow?

Milk

Ever heard of pouring yogurt? I call it milk :)

Amusings

Weird huh my blog is called amusings but
I never actually wrote any down. Ah well really I think you should just find the amusings in your own life and share them with me. My amusings are my writings and poetry. Now my muse

The world feels small and big but little
Small and wide yet fat
Malnourished
Grieving, laughing
Circling and drawing lines
Like a work of art
A complete mess
Made with love
Loathing
Concoctions
Formula
Death
Birth
Age
and
sound
smell
emotion
basically

A new time

I notice now that my writing is changing.
More mature or serious. I admit that I didn't like
for a while. It scared me as change does. Yet lots of things
have always been changing and I never was scared.
This though is important to me.
So that's why it's so petrifying.
Though maybe it's only me:)

Formally English

In doubt I have made the unkempt desision of not posting on my blog.
The reason defies the progress. My heart could not go without writing, the interminable void it left me. Although I say these words I will have to make clear. I write for a passion and passion can not always be thrown at the same thing. So if I don't blog I'm most undoubtly lamenting it or writing elsewhere. I may go through ghastly stages with my writing and I may happen upon untapped inspiration. The stories of short I have decided not to post. Centrally because they take too much of time and are aggravating to read upon a computer screen. I find poems are flexible and fit anywhere. Small and compact. That is all I have to say even though it is mostly to myself. It is the proper thing to do.