Death, Friends, Life, Living, Love, Lovers, Muses, Resilience, Terese, Teresums

The Rebirth

To my friend, Terese Bozdas.

Once I stood on the trembling ice
Of a mountain torrent in winter
Surrounded by granite boulders
And dared the wild waters to drown me.

I had lost my wife.
I had lost my home.
I had lost my hopes.
I had lost my dreams.
And I dared the wild ice
Beneath me to break.

It is curious how you can sometimes
Be so numb the desire to die
Is the only thing
That makes you feel alive.

It was only when you came to me
Some years later

Singing songs of friendship,
Singing songs of compassion,

That I felt at last
The rebirth, the renewal
Of Spring.

Agape, Alyssa Holmes, Anupriya Kumari, Authenticity, Being True To Yourself, Death, Eudaimonia, Friends, Human Nature, Jane Paterson Basil, Life, Living, Love, Lovers, Marysa, Muses, Nature, Passion, Philos, Poetry, Quality of Life, Relationships, Resilience, Self-Flourishing, Shreya Vikram, Terese, Teresums, The Art of Living Well, Unconditional Love, Well Being

I Will Sing Songs to the Ice

(About a 3 minute read)

i.

Something huge fell against my door last night.
Something crashed the silence of the night.

When I was calm enough to look through my window
I saw a tired stag with a broken leg
Struggling to rise.

It failed at first, but then, with horrendous effort,
At last gained its feet.

Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg
Slowly cross my yard, pausing every few feet,
Perhaps to ease the pain.

The fur on its back was tuffed up and disturbed
Like the stag had been pounced on and in a fight.

Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg.
Last night I saw a tired stag with a broken leg.
Last night I saw a tired stag.

ii.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your still-satin skin glows
In the grace of youth.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your life opens towards the future
Like petals spreading in the morning sun.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your mind roars over the rocks
Like a crystal cold mountain stream.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your heart yearns for the heights of love
Like an eagle for the sky.

You are comely and beautiful.
Your still-satin skin covers sleek muscles
Covers sleek muscles and unbroken bones.

You are comely and beautiful.
I watch you as you take my breath away.

iii.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice.

My winter is half run.
At 62, my winter is half run
And my life now thaws
Into your spring.
Rushes over boulders into your spring.

I have loved you more purely and more passionately
Than you in your youth might know.

I have loved you with eyes that see well beyond yours.
I have loved you until my heart
Has broken and been reborn.

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice.
Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

So tonight, I will sing songs to the spring.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly further than you think.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly more beautifully than you think.

“You can fly higher, my love,
You can fly to intimacy with the sky.”

Tonight, I can hear the cracking of the ice
Beneath my feet.

And so tonight, I will put on heavy skins
And sing songs to the ice
Before my fall.

Tonight, I will sing songs to the ice,
And I will put on heavy skins.


Curious readers might want to check out Sharon’s poem, Struggles on the Ground.  It strikes me as having themes related to this poem’s themes.

Advice, Aesthetics, Art, Authenticity, Beauty, Being True To Yourself, Communication, Conversation, Human Nature, Ideas, Muses, Parihkit Dutta, Relationships

Good Muse, Bad Muse! The Use and Abuse of Muses

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Paul offers his opinion on the key importance and function of muses.  Bonus: Five tips on picking a good muse or avoiding a bad one.

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THE CRITICS GO NOVA! “Paul Sunstone’s definition of ‘art’ is far too broad to be useful.  It makes any effort at communication an art, including Parikhit Dutta’s habit while a young man of getting drunk on Friday nights at the Tarry-All Tip and Pour Bar, then signing his name in the snow outside in his own pee.  On the few nights up in the Tarry-All Mountains when there wasn’t any snow, Parikhit would simply stand swaying drunk for up to 45 minutes looking as pathetically lonely and lost as that moose that wandered into Downtown Colorado Springs back in the summer of ’01. Paul Sunstone’s ‘Good Muse, Bad Muse’ resembles nothing so much more than Parikhit Dutta’s very worse autographs  on his most drunken Friday nights.”  — Gus “Gunning Gus” Johnson, The Blog Critic’s Column, “Leper’s Gulch Gazette”, Leper’s Gulch, Colorado, USA.

Continue reading “Good Muse, Bad Muse! The Use and Abuse of Muses”