Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 25

The Silence- #LovePoetry

Silence fills the corners of my mind
Sound without echo
Reason without Rhyme
Longing for Whispers that Mingle
Caresses that Sing
Tenderness that Sighs
Delivering my Senses from this desert
Lost in perpetual noise
Drowned in ceaseless chatter
Yearning for the Devotion of One
Love that Astonishes
Attraction that Defies
The Silence

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by: Yaga K at Deviantart.com

Willing Lamentation – #Poetry

Caught in a web of Infinite Splendor,
Trapped in silence that refuses to speak,
Lost in a Reality we cannot Engender,
Afraid of the Light,
I am too weak.

Ensnared by my own discontent,
Bound to this place by Inclination,
Bearing a Message that was never sent,
Lingering Eternally,
Willing Lamentation.

Can you hear me when I cry?
Do my words Ignite Your flame?
Ever and Always asking Why,
Captured by Wailing And All the Memory it Claims.

~Morgan~

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Original artwork by: ghyselenbert at DeviantArt.

Tomorrow- #LovePoetry

Turn this Dream over,
Point to a Star,
Kiss my hand Gently,
Then Fly away far.
I’m Missing You already,
Before You’ve even gone,
Begrudgingly, I lay me down,
Dreading the quiet, lonely Dawn.

When You leave me,
Though it’s never long,
My Heart finds poor Comfort,
Living without our Song.
Passion closes its eyes, Waiting,
Mute with broken sorrow,
Counting the days, one by one,
Until We meet,
Tomorrow.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful original artwork by Anne Stokes/ Ironshod at Deviantart.com

BnV???- A #Blog About #Words, #Shakespeare, #Poetry, #Positivity and so much More!

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me

BnV???

So, here we are, post number two already and you’ve come back for more.  More, in spite of the askance glances you may have received or the incredulous responses to your description of your initial experience here to your friends or colleagues or strangers on undergrounds and, yes, perhaps, even against your better judgment.  Yet regardless of your reason(s)… Welcome back intrepid voyager!  And while I cannot offer you a tiny cup of refreshment or a minuscule packet of peanuts to fortify you on your journey, I might just be able to offer a few potential explanations as to why you may be here.

Morbid Curiosity?  A Predilection for the Bizarre?  Sheer Insanity?  Or maybe….just maybe….although you can’t positively say why, you actually enjoyed that preliminary assay into The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe.  If any of these are the case (and even if they aren’t), let’s get down to it, shall we?  The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe, Book and Volume, BnV…what does it all mean?  I’m sure you’d love to gain some insight, apparently, since you’re here again (a state of affairs about which I am over the moon, by the way), with that perplexed look on your face.  Lucky for you, I’d love to elucidate on that very topic.  (for clarity’s sake, the BnV topic, not the puzzlement on your face.  We’ll leave that for another post).

First and foremost there’s the obvious (and almost certainly not all that innovative) Hamlet reference (my absolute favourite Shakespeare play ever, of all time, always). For those of you unfamiliar with this marvelous tragedy: the following is Hamlet speaking about his Father, now a ghost, who only just told his horrified son about his foul and most unnatural murder…  (Go ahead, read it…I’ll explain, I promise!)

Ay, thou poor ghost, whilst memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee ?
Yea, from the table of my memory I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records…
…And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix’d with baser matter!

OK, so there you go…(although you had no idea you were going to read Shakespeare tonight and hopefully it wasn’t especially horrific or scarring for you.)  This Distracted Globe is, to put it bluntly, Hamlet’s skull and The Book and Volume is his mind and all that it contains.   So Yes, BnV- otherwise known as Book and Volume- is my brain, in all its splendid absurdity and eccentricity poured out for you…yes YOU…on the pages of this otherwise non-descript little blog.

I know…its positively intoxicating (or potentially terrifying), isn’t it?

Secondly, ( you forgot already, didn’t you, that I was talking about the blog and not the whirlings of my  mind) , BnV is a blog about nothing and everything, about the commonplace and the atypical; it’s a place where you may find poetry I’ve woven or tales I’ve spun;  it’s a place for me to share insights (or revelations, as I like to call them ) that I might have on any given day (which, with any luck, will hold some significance for you as well and not leave you sitting there wondering, yet again, what exactly it is that I’m blathering on about.)  Visiting BnV could also lead you to discover a new recipe I’ve created or could find you reading all about some character I’ve come across or created, or why I loved, hated or generally became nauseated by the latest flick I’ve seen or book I’ve read (although I am more often found writing my own rather than reading one by another). Potentially, you could also find yourself looking at a pictorial review of my day, should I have the most inconceivable impediment imaginable and find myself without anything to say (which, if you know me at all or even if you are just getting to know me is something you must be quite certain never happens).

So, BnV?  Yes.  And now you know why….or why not.

A Capital Offense-An Explanation of Absurdity

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me

I was recently asked why I use so much Random Capitalization, so I thought I might re-share this post in the Hope that it may explain, to some extent, but also that it may, perhaps, shed some Light into the Creative (insert adjective here, madness maybe?) of my mind.

I understand completely, I really do…well, as much as I am able to empathize over a situation, or rather a conundrum, I have unwittingly created, but I do understand…completely.

My high school English teacher used to nearly pull his hair out (what he had, anyway), over my persistent use of what he termed Random Capitalizations in my writing, and, try though I might, I could never quite make him understand that the capitals were anything but random. I’ve always used them when writing poetry; it’s a mechanism I employ without being entirely aware of it, really, since I’ve utilized it for so long now (er, I mean, for a few years now…, yeah, that sounds much better!)

A-hem,… yet many of you have raised the same questions, more or less, as my English teacher had so many..er, those few years ago, so I thought it might be vastly appreciated (or at least helpful) for me to give a brief explanation. (yes, believe it or not, I am entirely capable of being brief…since brevity is the soul of wit.) (Oh, threw some Shakespeare at you there without forewarning.) (no apology offered though since its Shakespeare, after all. )

Consider the following verse:
When ‘last the light escapes night drear,
‘Tis then morn’ stands upon the mountain
And jocund day waits, tiptoe, for intent;
While promise ‘pends upon the balance.

That is the first verse of the very first poem I posted on BnV. (honestly, go ahead, check it out, I’ll wait. ..We’ll all wait.) Nothing too out of the ordinary about that verse, really; no Random Capitalizations there. (since I took them all out for the purposes of this explanation) Ok..now…look at it again. (do bear with me, you will understand in a moment, I promise!)

When ‘last the Light Escapes night drear,
Tis then Morn’ Stands upon the Mountain,
And Jocund Day Waits, tiptoe, for Intent;
While Promise ‘pends upon the Balance.

See anything different there? Of course you do! (a lot of Random Capitalizations, you might say) yet if you look more closely at the individual words, you might, perchance, stumble across the method to my (seeming) madness. (or at least, yet another of my idiosyncrasies) (which we all know very well how much you love, so do wipe that perplexed look from your face). Though it may seem haphazard, in fact, there is nothing random about the capitalizations at all. And here’s why.

Each word that bears a capital letter signifies, in some manner or another, the following: It is either a positive (rather than a negative) word in relation to the poem; it denotes a positive, optimistic or constructive action; or it is in some other manner a word that bears (for all intents and purposes) a brightness, lightness, or hopefulness towards the rest of the poem. The capital is meant to put emphasis upon the word it is highlighting, or it is, in some other manner a significant word. Conversely, if the word does not have a capital letter, generally it is merely a word holding the rest of the structure together or it is, in some manner, a negative connotation.

Now, I will confess, sometimes I do get carried away, (imagine that!) and I do randomly capitalize, which, understandably, will throw many of you into the depths of spiraling perplexity; however, I do try to clean those up before I post (hopefully!) and for those that I miss, I do most emphatically apologize!

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. (someone brilliant said that, though just whom …or is it who…I am drawing a blank upon at the moment.) Nevertheless, as with all things, there is also an opposite that is true for my Capitalizing. (sorry) Yet this underlying principle follows the same logic, only in reverse (If that makes any sense at all.)

For Example, in the following verse (from my poem Losing Game), the poem is a “dark” poem, whose subject and body are sadness, despair, and grief, so the capitals are used to accentuate the “dark or negative” words.

Shackle me in a Prison of my making,
Torn and Tempted, at the point of Breaking.
Lying in the Dark pools of the Lost,
Drinking in Delirium, no matter the Cost.

Hopefully, it still makes sense to you, as I likewise hope this admittedly longer than intended, not entirely brief, (though potentially still witty) explanation shall shed some light (or perhaps I should say Light) upon what might otherwise be viewed as a Capital Offense.

~Morgan~
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Wonderful Image found at: sd.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

Down from Heaven – One #Writer’s #Love of #Words

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me

So often I write with my eyes closed, waiting. Hands poised over the keys (of my laptop), ready. Heart quiet in restful calm or pounding in passionate inspiration, and Spirit open, willing, questing, seeking, listening, as the words and images come tumbling down. Down from Heaven,down from the sweet, sparkling heavens, down from the clouds of thundering rain, down from the mountaintop, down from the breathless moon and silken skies.

There I am, an open vessel; a cracked vase that cannot hold this rushing flood, yet I can channel it, directed it into the pages of my memory, (and my blog!) As I sit quietly, waiting; or desperately trying to keep up with the rushing torrent, my spirit sings the sweetest tune I have ever heard. And, though I cannot physically hear it, though I cannot listen to the manifestation of music like I do when I connect to my playlists, I hear the serenade as clearly as that faltering music. The melody comes down, Down from Heaven, down from the sweet, sparkling heavens, down from the clouds of glittering glow, down from the bastion towering o’re the rushing ocean’s flow.

Eyes closed, waiting. Heart Quiet, listening. Spirit Willing, Questing. All for the lyrical beauty that spills like an endlessly cascading fall of sparkling water from that inestimably breathtaking Source. Typing, typing as fast as I am able, unconcerned about spelling, punctuation, context, verbiage. I sit in humble wonder as the blessed words pour Down. Down from Heaven. Down from the Sweet, Sparkling heavens. Down from the rainbow of jubilant Promise arching over all of us. Down from the crystal cerulean skies as they weep blessed words, and I am left to cry.

Cry at the beauty expressed through my hands. Weep for the Love, I hope ONE may understand. Cry in joy for the unspeakable gift that raises my life from the darkest rift into which I had fallen for many long years. A rift flooded with unshed tears. Yet now those tears flow down like rain. Down without the crushing pain and they speak in a voice so many can hear, they speak quietly, yet they speak clear. They rush and they flow like the ocean’s roar, like rain falling down in a heavy pour. Down, down, Down From Heaven, Down from the Sweet Sparkling heavens, Down from the Stars that shimmer and glow, Down in a jocund, rejoicing, inexpressible flow into which I am cast, like a fisher of words. And Casting my net, I haul them in to be heard.

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~Morgan~
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Beautiful photograph found at : reinventinglovee.tumblr

The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe -#A #Blog’s Humble Beginning

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me    (This is a reposting of my very first post!)

The Book and Volume of This Distracted Globe

Or Book and Volume

Or BnV

Admittedly, I am an amateur.  Sure, I’ve heard about blogs for years, heard people talking about posts round the proverbial water cooler, but I’ve never actually read one.  Nope, not a single one, but I know how to spin a tale; I understand and appreciate the basics of English grammar (although I don’t always obey proper form and I do love a split infinitive) so I thought, why not?  Give it a go.  Have a bash, what’s to lose, really?  Bit of time.  After all, how hard could it be, sitting at my laptop listening to the sounds of the ocean, or a nice thundery rainstorm, or the ethereal music of Delirium all thanks to the wellspring we know as You Tube.  And even If the only person who finds said blog interesting, amusing or, if I’m lucky, entertaining, should be me than that’s just splendid; because if you can’t take a little time out of your day to amuse yourself, then perhaps you’re taking things a bit too seriously. (but I digress)

So here it is, entry one.  Or post number one.  Or what have you.  Now, for those of you who do not know me (yet) perhaps this would be an opportune moment to insert some sort of disclaimer, alert you to some of my comparatively annoying idiosyncrasies, and enlighten you to some of my peculiarities. (Most of these are one in the same by the way)  So here goes: first and foremost I’m a word enthusiast, aficionado, and devotee.  I love, admire, aspire to emulate and find myself positively piqued (by) Shakespeare, Dickens, Austin, Blake, Poe, or the like.  Odd, perchance, but I’m quite certain you’ve probably already ascertained this for yourself.  Yes, words….words….words.. (to quote the Master).  They fill me with inspiration, they bring me to tears or sometimes they make me LOL, ….they can often, also, bore me to bits (insert government or math related blather here).   So you may find yourself reading ten pages of paragraph long sentences brimming over with 6 syllable words just to find out that all I’ve really said is I don’t actually have anything to say.  Yeah, I’m good at that.

I should also probably warn you that, although I find a great many things interesting and will, most likely, remark on any number of them in a given post, I don’t have a particular objective in mind ( at this point anyway) for this blog.  Variety is the spice of life after all, so one never knows what I may sit down and prattle on about, at length, mayhap insipidly, but at the very least ( and dare I say, hopefully!) you won’t find yourself feeling preached at when you’ve reached the end.  That, you may be sure, is not my intention.

So there you are and here I am, two partners in time; one sharing, one gaining (little or nothing, but perhaps at least a smile…if I am successful) giving and receiving, for better or for worse….(yes, I see the direction this metaphorical segment is taking and I would break off, but where this is going illustrates so well another of my quirks, which is, though I hate to admit it, that I do tend to find meaning in even the simplest things)…so to get back to my metaphor… if you think about it, being a writer and a reader is rather like being in a relationship ( I was going to use the M word, but we barely know each other yet).  There’s good, there’s bad, there’s mutual intrigue, there are laughs and tears, arguments and betrayals of one form or another, but in the end, it’s generally worthwhile.  (there, that wasn’t too bad, was it?)

Ok, so you’ve read four paragraphs now and, although I’m only going on instinct, I’m thinking I should probably begin to wrap this up.  Not very educational, to be sure; not very interesting, conceivably, but maybe, just maybe, when you are at work tomorrow talking to your friends ( or if you haven’t any of those at your job ) your colleagues, or when you’re stuck in traffic on your way in or way home talking to one of the aforementioned on your cell, or when you’re chatting with some stranger you just met on the tube, you might just tell them about what you did last night.

How you were sitting at your computer/laptop/iPad/electronic devise of some sort, bored with the mundane, hum-drumness of Facebook and Twitter and you decided, (possibly against better judgment), to strike out on your own.  It was then that you happened upon the most… (insert adjective of your choice here) (yes, interactive blog….nifty, eh?)… blog you’ve ever read in your life and, although you’re not sure if it was about anything in particular, you did have a laugh once or twice, but it didn’t last long and, while it seemed inane at the time and, although you thought you’d never be interested in reading it again, you can’t stop thinking about it.  In fact, you can’t even say why.  What you can say is that the author might just possibly be off her hinges, one pie short of a picnic, not quite reaching warp speed; still, she had a way of writing that made you want to read more….maybe,…although you can’t be certain because there was only one entry.   And now you’re left with the most annoying set of circumstances imaginable because all you really want to know is, what the heck is she going to be nattering on about next?

~Morgan~

Why I Write – A #Writer’s #Imagination Unraveled

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me

What Inspires me? What lights the candle of my imagination and sets the flame burning high? What is it that opens the floodgates of words, like a rapid, rushing torrent into my thoughts to overtake me, sweep me up and away, bearing me upon the tide into the depths of any ocean?

It is difficult to define that precise place where a fanciful notion or musing thought becomes greater than itself, steps beyond the precipice of promise and unfolds into a blooming illusion filled with imagery, lyricism and emotion; yet I shall endeavor to relate some portion of the mystery, if I am able, for there are times when, I too, barely comprehend it.

Words stand ready at any given moment, whether newly awakened or late blooming in the deep recesses of the night, to burst from their sheltered waiting place and spiral into lyrics and phrases that tempt the mind’s eye, pluck at the tender heartstrings, or turn a mirthful corner of a smile. Like a madman’s mind, held captive to his whimsy by irrationality, so too am I held in the ever abiding embrace of words, in so powerful a manner and so inescapable a fashion that, when my gaze alights upon an image that strikes interest, it takes little more than a momentary pause to release the deluge.

Music plays an integral role in this process, spinning a web that surrounds me, encases me, sustains my Imagination and nurtures the soul. Whether it is Classical, New Age, themes from soundtracks, or even Depeche Mode, music lends its gracious light to everything I write, shimmering in the background or blazing like a ruddy fire in the midst of each word. Music is magic as precious and essential to me as vocabulary and grammar, serenading nearly every waking moment.

Spirit Speaks unfalteringly and blends its gracious beauty into my thoughts and words through Blessing alone. I believe each living, breathing being and creature embodies a living Spirit that extends from and ultimately returns to The Source of all Life. The Spirit Speaks unceasingly; whispering mystery; shouting quietly, proclaiming every truth we need to understand; singing in harmony with the longing for Love, Hope, Peace and Joy that sits upon the throne of each heart. I Listen, as best as I am able, by opening my heart without questioning, trusting the Love I know so well; smiling in its poetic embrace each time it reveals itself and I am ever…EVER…amazed and humbled by the Beauty that stems from this Source.

Inspiration rides the currents of these tides, like a galleon rocking in the tempestuous ocean of my thoughts; sailing upon the languid currents; whirling in the magnificent splendor of the maelstrom and, often, it is all I am able to do to hang on. Yet it is also a perpetual Blessing to me, particularly if what I write and share touches someone else’s life in any similar manner as it touches mine.

I am also inspired by others, one of whom is Dorinda from Night Owl Poetry at: http://dorindaduclos.com . Here lyrical style and flowing verses ever ignite my imagination and set my musings to soaring. Here’s a little more about her in her own words: Born in New Jersey and raised in Brooklyn, NY & New Jersey, I’m a Jersey girl at heart. I spent my later years in life seated behind the canvas, painting, creating and in between, writing. I discovered that putting feelings and thoughts to paper helped me solve life’s little conundrums. It became the norm. I had paper and pencil everywhere I went.

I’m thrilled that I get the opportunity to share my thoughts about life, love and the world surrounding us. Join me on my journey.” ~ Dorinda

Do be sure to stop by her blog to enjoy her writing. I promise, you shall not be disappointed.

Another who Inspires me is Michelle Marie from http://michellemarieantellg.wordpress.com . Michelle is such a loving and joyful soul, whose artwork and inspirations ever brighten my days. She also helped me to create the cover for “Dark Fey The Reviled”, a favour for which I shall forever be grateful! Here’s a bit more about Michelle in her own words: I used to be invisible or at least I felt like I was. Now that I have blogged on WP for over a year I have come to think that it’s ok to be less visible or a lighter shade of pale. I didn’t start blogging for accolades or comments but to simply share! I thank you for the opportunity to read your thoughts and see into the window of your life!

If ever a Soul Inspires, it is Michelle! Stop by her blog to see for yourself.
Dorinda and Michelle have also decided to join in this Blog Hop and will be posting their own “Why I Write” posts, so keep an eye out for their upcoming posts.

Inspiration and Artistry dwells within each of us, sparking the fire that burns inwardly as well as outwardly, glowing and illuminating all.

 

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Original Artwork by: artsgr1e at Deviantart.com

#Words – One #Writer’s #Passion

To celebrate my birthday I thought I’d share some posts about me

Words

They are inescapably diverting. They distract me in the most intoxicating manner imaginable; they hold me hostage like a prisoner trapped within a cage of my own making where I pace, tiger-like, undeterred by the tide of day into night and night into day, where I can spend hours surrounding myself with them without saying anything at all.

Words

They fill my heart with yearning. They spread through my mind like a waking dream, impossible to ignore and as captivating as warmth on a freezing day, and I stand enthralled by the indescribably hypnotic sight of my thoughts and dreams taking visible form, filling my mind with ever increasing tides and torrents of relentless phrases.

Words

They touch the deep precincts of my mind. They betray the hidden secrets of my heart, speaking boldly for any who will listen what it is that my spirit longs to attain, to satisfy, to provoke, and I have no more control over the inevitable prophesying than one might have over the wind, blowing where and when and how it will.

Words

Like a drug I am powerless to resist, they send me into spiraling, dizzying, abstraction where I wait, transfixed and smiling like a Cheshire Cat, unabashed in my revelry, unhindered by convention, until the wave crests and crashes.

Words

Trivial or Tantalizing, Poetic or Lurid, I hear them, see them, feel them, taste them. They send me into irrational, inexplicable fits of splendor that only I seem able to experience. And yet, when those words are spoken by You, I see a mirror, a reflection; evidence of something more than just

Words.

Gairynzvl- The Dark One- #Meet the #Character

After years of waiting and creating more possibles than I can count I finally was able to create a character that more closely resembles the Dark One I see in my mind’s eye when I think about Gairynzvl.  Meet my main character from the Dark Fey Trilogy!

He dwarfed her diminutive stature by at least fourteen inches and had a lithe, powerfully muscular physique.  His shoulder length hair was the color of shimmering ice, both white and silver.  He wore a full-length coat with burnished gold lacings and buttons, with armor-like plates embellishing his broad shoulders and with dark crimson and vibrant silver silk accentuating the deep lapels of the coat he wore open across his broad chest.  The multiple belts and chokers crisscrossing his close fitted vest, his pants and boots; all were black leather with similar burnished gold fittings and, although she never would have imagined a Dark One dressing so strikingly, he wore a double flounced cravat and golden choker with an enormous ruby glimmering from its heart.

His vast dragon-like pinions were deep black and blood-red, stretching fully twice his height in length, yet with vicious spines at each joint and tip they seemed even larger and were hideously frightful to behold.  His complexion was the unmistakable sallow pallor of the Reviled.

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A Snippet from Chapter Six of The Reviled, where Gairynzvl reveals himself to Ayla for the first time:

Panting with exhaustion, he moved toward the darkness, half carrying Ayla, half dragging her as his strength was not much greater than her own.  She stumbled along beside him, crying, though no longer screaming in pain, and for that, he found he was inexplicably thankful.  When the light of the mirror could no longer reach him in any fashion and he was, once again, cloaked in cool, soothing shadow, he stopped, lowered her carefully to the floor and stood over her, his head tilted upward, his eyes closed and mouth open as he breathed in the darkness deeply.  His mind spun with echoes of writhing pain; his flesh burned with the memory of flame; his heart hammered in his chest and his entire body trembled with uncontrollable fatigue.

Gazing up at him in the darkness, Ayla considered him carefully, amazed beyond description.  He stood over her, but did not threaten or intimidate her; he merely stood, almost vigilantly.  Was he protecting her in the darkness?  She looked more closely at him, now that he was no longer bathed in searing light nor submersed in shadows that he had drawn to himself, and she was amazed that she did not see the Dark One she had seen when she first looked upon him, when her fear had given her eyes the freedom of creating a demon.  In fact, as he stood over her, breathing unsteadily, visibly trembling and with the water of tears still wet upon his face, she realized she had woefully misjudged him.

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Discover More About Dark Fey

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by Me

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