Tag: Muse

Writer’s Block

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing6 Comments

Image
Half smoked cigarettes fill the vapid air
the poet hunches over in total disrepair
His dalliance with the muse is such a sad affair
When words won’t come, he slouches in despair
The night mist lingers though he doesn’t’ really care

Surrounded by empty bottles, his vision is impaired
The empty page taunts him, “Fill me if you dare!”
He reaches even deeper, but there’s really nothing there
Another evening of this is more than he can bear
In absolute surrender, his pen flies through the air

Without You

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing5 Comments

To my wife, Kerri….my eternal muse.

“Love at first sight is grossly underestimated: a single glance can take the whole person.”

Kerri Portrait

WITHOUT YOU

Without you, nothing seems possible.
Every beautiful thing this world has to offer
Revolves around you.
When I am sad, happiness is in your smile.
When I am afraid, your arms calm me.
When I can’t find my way, your eyes lead me.
Without you, I simply drift along.
There is no color in my world, until you come home.
If I am tired, your laughter lifts me and I am whole again.
If I yell at you, you sigh a little.
If I don’t’ come home, you die a little.
If I fail you, you patiently what until I find my way again.
Where are you now?
When I cannot speak, your lips consume me.
When I can no longer stand, your love exhumes me.
You are everything that makes me live.
Every dream begins when I draw near you.
Every hope demands a path clear to you.
Loneliness does not exist when you are in my life.
I am lifted up, drifting up to heaven above you.
When you whisper you love me,
Stand fragile before me,
I am transformed and need to pull you close.
I know you could walk away, but you never do.

UNREQUITED LOVE

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing5 Comments

Image

Unlucky you, who didn’t come last night…
I took the bed’s hard wood post for a man!
You sit and write all night and I lie here
like a shriveled cornstalk blackened by mold.
Am I too old? I’d rather die than have you lie
that you’re afraid to kiss me. Do you miss me?
Leaving me in my nakedness, sprawled
across the unslept bed, open like a blossom
spreading beneath the sun,
offering her nectar but left to wither on the vine.
The night possesses you,
the unfinished verse obsesses you,
but don’t say I won’t give you a kiss.
I offer all of this, but no, you have your Muse!
That wretched bitch that sucks the passion
from the very air you breath and pours her
empty promises in your goddamned poems!
Do her words comfort you; can you find
your release in her couplet or a metaphor?
Does a well turned phrase caress your face,
or stroke your thigh, send shivers down your spine?
I offer you the whole of me, yet you prefer a simile!
Who am I to you? What am I to do?
Come to me! When the morning’s light
pushes the night away, come to me.
I am the ending you are looking for!

 

A Poet’s Affection

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

Image

The phases of life, the marking of time;
I lived two weeks, four months,
six months before moving on.
There were no long-term relationships –
one night, maybe a week, perhaps two.

Love was too expensive for a traveler,
much too heavy to carry in a bag or box.
I put my days on paper, ending one story,
another poem filed away, me moving on.
There would always be another day,
another pretty face, a warm body
to hold through another cold night .
True love by the hour or day, I could afford that.

That’s what I thought at the time.

I sold my poems, sad stories, many years ago.
I didn’t sell them for money;
it was always a trade , a fair exchange I thought.
The perfect and ideal love
burning so bright, but not very long.

 

Writer’s Block

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing3 Comments

block

 

Half smoked cigarettes fill the vapid air
the poet hunches over in total disrepair
His dalliance with the muse is such a sad affair
When words won’t come, he slouches in despair
The night mist lingers though he doesn’t’ really care
Surrounded by empty bottles, his vision is impaired
The empty page taunts him, “Fill me if you dare!”
He reaches even deeper, but there’s really nothing there
Another evening of this is more than he can bear
In absolute surrender, his pen flies through the air

 

Vivid Vouyeur

On By Dennis McHaleIn Poetry, Speaking, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

blinds

Sensuous silhouettes painted passionately
by midnight moon’s silver brush,
Lascivious light peeking through open curtains
and slanted shutters revealing the naked blush
of men loving women,
men loving men,
women loving women.
singles loving themselves.
Fucking, sucking, stroking, poking;
all manner of frenzied fleshy delight!
I  writhe beneath the windowsill
frantically fondling my rigid rod
in the cool gray midnight mist,
eavesdropping eyes lustfully locked
upon this sexy smorgasbord of earthly Eros.

In the Dying Petals of the Poet’s Flower

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing1 Comment

poet sleeping

Past the tick-tick-tocking of the midnight hour,
Wrapped in sweat-stained cotton sheets,
Robbed of sleep and feeling sour
Like a muffled drum sounding nothing beats –
In the dying petals of the poet’s flower.

This syrup sleep removes the pain,
While dreams remain beyond my reach.
A whiskey slumber subdues the brain
While my toss-n-turn reveals a breach,
As time grinds on just the same.

I rise to write the poet’s dribble
And gorge upon liters of stale red wine.
Behold, my words, a bastard’s scribble!
Writ upon the passage of borrowed time.
Each tick, each tock, from my life is nibbled

I cannot rest while my muse is clanging
Inside my head a poor man’s verse,
Nor can I stop the incessant banging
As my thirst for libations meets an empty purse!
These words are ripe for a morning hanging.

Upon the tick-tick-tocking of the morning hour,
Sweet sleep descends upon my brow.
Within my bed I hide and cower;
An ink-less pen is a horseless plough –
In the dying petals of the poet’s flower.

Poet’s Defeat

On By Dennis McHaleIn Poetry, Speaking, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

fallen angel

 

Let the night unfold as may;
I am sleepless and nocturnal
a carpet of stars lights the way
across blank pages of my journal

Though little light is cast, and sure
No verse forthcoming pours from me
for all the emptiness I endure
One inspired word would set me free

Yet these droplets fall in un-metered rhyme
for me to unravel, on bended knee
I am as useless as soliloquy to a mime
Or autumn leaves to a winter tree

So loose my bonds and set me free
No more my pen to scribe
No vacuous lines of poetry
There’s simply nothing left inside.

 

Writer’s Block

On By Dennis McHaleIn Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Half smoked cigarettes fill the vapid air,
the poet hunches over in total disrepair.
His dalliance with the muse is such a sad affair,
When words won’t come, he slouches in despair.
The night mist lingers though he doesn’t’ really care,
Surrounded by empty bottles, his vision is impaired.
The empty page taunts him, “Fill me if you dare!”
He reaches even deeper, but there’s really nothing there.
Another evening of this is more than he can bear
In absolute surrender, his pen flies through the air.

Muse

On By Dennis McHaleIn Poetry, Uncategorized2 Comments

My muse is hooked on dark pastiche
It is a foul and thoughtless creature
Words from another are now unleashed
And my form is devoid of feature
Where once she enticed me with creative flourish
Now my words are cut low: harsh and malnourished
I’ve nothing to say, to inspire or sway
And the pages are blistered with pain
There comes only fear, rot and decay
And the occasional deluge of rain.