My Muse

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**painting, finished,unfinished I’m not sure yet.

A whole bunch of words
In the cold of the night your words give warmth.
A gentle glow..sparks.. Of passion and love yet
to sew seed but born from a deeper place than I’ve traveled before.
A smile so strong a bridge it has built from heart to
heart and back again. Leaving no brick un bruised in the delight of her name.
And
By what charge of a poets heart does man claim his place
Amongst the angels.
Given no tenor to call home or a voice to speak of,
a wondering soul rest only where angles fear to tread…….
Such darkness gives way to a tender light
Gentle….. Soft….. Lost herself in a strangers land of newness.
A bold place for such a tender heart to trend.
After such destruction has been given her chase only to fall flat
for she rises like the phoenix.
Giving passion to my life like a teenaged boy in heat.
Such passion drip from that fountain that I yearn to
drink from in this life and no other.
Waiting……… Time passes so slowly as the days wander by
looking for a place to call home.
Kisses warm and wet fall upon counters made of Alice’s looking glass
Ponderous thoughts and days are these…..
Left alone…….in a crowded room…..by a mirror facing a mirror and myself.
I wonder what painters hand have I to create these thoughts I think in
colors of green and blue, of silken satin leather, lace and you……
For are we all not the muse of someone else’s muse. Given chase by another
Lovers lover from another place in time and their heart.
Such ponderous thoughts are these….

Such young love does sparkle in your eyes…
How I wish to kiss it from your aching lips
And let’s it’s taste linger upon my thirsting
Tongue as I whisper your name.

Breathe me in as I call to your
passions heart.
Take me deep within your beating soul
The very essence of desire, lust
and greed to consume the very flesh
Our hearts and minds feast upon.

Guide my hands to your wildest places
On your wildest nights on the craziest
days. Wet your lips with all I am
Make me call your name as my back arches
Against the cold stone walls of summers alley.
Give me release for on this day I am all
Yours as I give myself to thee.

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12 thoughts on “My Muse

  1. Darling Benjamin… such yearning and beauty… I love this and your painting! It’s a magical feeling striving to find what you speak of and my friend so deserved xox Hugs

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  2. Granted, I’m on my phone … (So forgive typos) but I think this is just stunning Benjamin!!! Both the painting and the thoughts within the words. 😀 I think you may have outdone yourself with this one! It is truly beautiful … But then I love those colors, the depth and degree of detail, a signature of your artistic inner (emotion filled) you. Your Muse must be exceptional for sure, to inspire such lovely thoughts, words, and inspiration! 😍

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    • Thank you my friend, it’s always so good to hear from you. Funny thing that so many people think my muse is a person, it may be it may not, a gentleman never would tell. It may just be that my Muse is my art itself and my desire to be loved and cherished. My need to feel that I’m wanted/needed important to someone. My words have always carried a longing and think they may always do so until I find what my heart truly desires. Though who knows, it could simply be the curse of an artist to see colors and emotions the way I do. I hope your well.
      Always your friend.
      Benjamin

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      • True…. a muse doesn’t have to be a person…. and often isn’t cuz it would be hard to be a good muse all the time. LOL… I think of the muse (for myself at least) is just the inner emotion that reaches out to me loud enough to make me put words to paper, and perhaps you to paint with specific colors, depth, etc… to give you the ability to paint what’s in your heart, or your minds eye…. at the moment.

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