That Dazzling Shrug

I thought a lot about many things
I didn’t care about much today
Just where one foot was going
In front of the other
Flowers and skies
Warm breezes blowing
A flock of tiny flowers
Nesting on trees
Multiple colors
Inviting and welcoming
My thoughts turned to whispers
A clean and blank canvas
I put the paints away this time
Staring at the white space
Having done nothing
I smiled at ghost cameras
That dazzling shrug
Creating by doing nothing
Taking form on the paper
Colors and words enough
Existed already



15 thoughts on “That Dazzling Shrug”

    1. Your comment made me smile. 🙂 I appreciate you coming by.

      I have a question for you. I tried to comment on your post but it didn’t seem to go through. Did you see it? I’m trying to track whether it’s my end or my browser or what. Your writing is fantastic and I’d like to tell you! Lol

      Liked by 1 person

        1. I’ll put it here, for now, lol. To your “illusions of grandeur” piece.

          “then again so many writers kill a grand thing by saying exactly what they mean.” Brilliant! I feel two things from this piece. One, that you love and wield words, as I do, but you use them like spells, creating magic. Two, this piece feels familiar somehow, as though I am already a part of it. Beautifully written.

          Sorry about this unorthodox commentary method.

          Liked by 2 people

              1. THAT is the very best description of my writing I have ever heard. I am ecstatic, thank you for saying that! I am just now having a conversation with a dear friend (on my piece // dysmorphia // ) and we are fleshing out how I know my style of writing is not for everyone but those who get it mean the world to me, because so rare is the soul who takes the time to thread through it and make it his own. Our world is so production oriented, everything is just plain shoved out there. We seem to talk about spirituality (the inner landscape) but not from it. I ramble, forgive me, I’m forgetting myself and that we are on your beautiful post! I like your question about “you” in my works. You is a morphing creature, I admit, I’m not sure of how to explain that. I find myself attempting to express intimacy of the soul, of the self, which when it comes forward in writing presents itself as a relationship, making love to another, touching or speaking to another, an inner conversation with a multitude of others, of selves, blending. Sometimes ‘you’ is an ideal, sometimes a mirror. Sometimes, most often perhaps, I’m addressing ‘you’ as you, my desire to engage a stranger, a reader, almost immediately, into a world of our own. A fantasy that blooms inside you and connects you to yourself.

                Liked by 1 person

                1. Anyone can write of barren landscapes, flooded plains, burning fields, forests ablaze, heavy storms, exotic and mysterious lands. Your writing absolutely feels like you’re in these places, describing your sensations, making impossible visions accessible. I think I understand that your answer to which ‘you’ is all my examples of ‘you’ and more besides.


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