There was upon a time a muse so tall and hansome, so sweet and loving...and yet he stole my inspiration. The river that once was rich in ideas, became as dry as the desert. For years I walked in that desert, the absentism of poetry and art was more painful than the lack of love itself.
Then I met another muse, in a lonely night, in the middle of nowhere. Not as handsome. Not as loving, not as caring. Just as tall, selfish and unkind. In a wierd magical way, this second muse has returned the water to the fountain. Now a never ending cascade of words and ideas are pouring out from my mind to the paper, despite or perhaps because of the pain.
Breaking Water
Motherhood is like that winter storm When everything comes to a halt And no one knows what to expect And things are done, when they are don...
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Today I stop by this little park in my son old school. Long time ago, in this same place, I asked him and his classmates what did they wan... -
I am done with the drama people that run around the world pretending to be who they are not... I am done with the emotional needy... eve...
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She was a " social butterfly" They say... Her days went by Flying from flower to flower Tasting the nectar of life While adorning...
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