October 25th 2020

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

It is an autobiographical account

October 25, 2020

Morning woke me up with the sweet lullaby of violins. Had Mama’s brewed coffee. My thoughts lie scattered in art. My reflections on writing became a poem. I saw a colored angel drifting with beautiful wings. I am happy and contented. My life is a music of poetry. My thoughts are the darling of women. While riding my scooter, I saw cow poop lying on the road. It was a round cluster. I am dreaming of happy days to come. My thoughts are pursuing the art of life. Cobwebs lay on the ceiling as scattered art. There is music in the air. How I wish to actualize my thoughts into tangible realities. Yes, I love her very much. I ache to vibrate in her body and make the passionate love of poetry. A scarecrow on a building was covered with a cluster of birds. What is myself? I ask the question as a philosophy of art? I love writing and I am passionate about it. I long to read books and to write about the meaning of life. Yes, I long to travel to the island and see my beloved. My love of music is generic and I love, classical, rock, blues, jazz and gospel. I am rich in the valley of thought. My body is jazz, making the music of love. I love to traverse in poetic streams. I am contented in the valley of love. My thoughts are a mystic reminder of poet writing a verse. It’s interesting to lose all sanity for the love of art. I bloomed like a flower in her garden. Verses of kisses were planted on her cheek. I embraced her body with love, passion and joy. Existence is an eclipse finding the joy of meaning. To exist is to catch the butterfly in the moorings of the soul. I have composed a song and I am yet to complete it. Oh music, you have made my heart alive.


Submitted: October 25, 2020

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