Stories tagged muse

Bonnie: The Uninspired Muse

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He has such a stupid look on his face, with that bulbous nose and ugly tooth. “What do you mean you quit?” “I quit, Wally. I’m done. It’s over.” “Bullshit!” “Seriously. I want out.”

I'm Writing

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More and more, incoherent masses of letters scroll through my mind. Ideas struggle to form. Flashes of images flit rapidly in front of my mind’s eye. There are fish, mountains, presents, forests, mirrors - a menagerie of meaningless symbols march pas

Flatulence

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He was not supposed to leave handcuffs or a butt plug laying around.

Pectoralis Minor

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Her thumbs tucked beneath the waistline of her pants, slightly pulling them down to expose the eternity between belly button and bliss. I looked up at her as I slid my tongue along the rail of her hip, sucking at its point.

Nightmares from the Wanted Section

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WANTED: a Muse. Former Special Forces solider turned poet seeking artistic inspiration. Brunettes preferred but blondes will not be turned away; gingers, however, are out of the question. Must have a voice that sounds like money, a self-destructive tem

Rebellion at Fugitive Flats

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“You. Are. Out. Of. Your. Mind.” Cole poured another drink. “Wrong again. It's you who are out of my mind. Or the author's mind. Depends on how you look at it, really. Authors take a lot of credit that belongs to their muse.”

Like Swan Lake

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There is art and / there is beauty

Spring Miscellany

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Because we are exceptional,/ our 3000 dead in New York/ exceeds in impact that of 75,000/ burned at Nagasaki,

the tender

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Postcards of bleak pictoria; a conjurer of doves tongued to his beak.

When the Muse Abandons You

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I am abandoned to the mundane/ calculations of a small mind/ trapped by small considerations

like rain

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This is your mystery, your story Full of beauty and all-encompassing loveA brushstroke washes the canvas cleanYou start over with a new directionDreaming of me as you paint your wordsWriting just like Keats, Shelley and BrontëAbout sorrow, rain and the wheels of passion

Yet More from The Chronicles of His Demise

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The Muse//has used/ me up

Schadenfreude

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It's 50/50 that you'll ever pad your knee enough to ever kneel on it. Your back hurts, the Orthapedist labels it arthritis. I think that means we're getting old, so I crawl up the tower of your body as I'm a little younger, more sprightly. You're a

the night envelops me

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and light bleeds into the darkness

when your muse has left the building

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maybe it’s a good thing your muse has taken temporary leave because at least she’s not pecking away at you like an itch you can’t scratch