Friday, April 22, 2016

Abigail's Muse is Missing


 
 
There is time when chasing the thing that you want more than breath is a bad idea. Needless to say it’s the bad ideas that are the hardest to walk away from.

Sitting at my desk yesterday I looked out my window and watched as a bird flew back and forth from my new birdhouse to a nest she’d made in a large oak tree. There was nothing spectacular about what the bird was doing something so simple as feeding her family. Like most birds I chase a dream of feeding my need to be a successful writer. But unlike the bird I can’t find a ready supply of success to feed my creative muse.

My muse is petrified of failure and she often hides while I sit and ponder where she is and why she want come out and write. So are the trials and tribulations of chasing a dream.

 

Abby

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Out for Allergies


I've been out since last Tuesday due to allergies. I will return on Monday, April 18, 2016

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

It's My Blog Anniversay



On April 5, 2013 I revampws my blog and made a commitment to blogging. It would take another year for me to be fully committed to making this blog work for me.

So, today I celebrate and throw confetti in the air.

Abby

Monday, April 4, 2016

The Day Dawns Alone


The day dawns with frost and fog

Blades of grass growing on my soul

Lonely is the heart that grows old and cold

Raptures love avoids a cold heart like the plague

Lonely old women face life with dread

Rise up heart with aflame love will never call your name

Tender is the mercy shown by love not

Sitting on a porch alone

The day dawns

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Rain on Me


Rain on me

Drench me in a thunderstorm of love

Let the wind kiss me as I turn my face to the sky

I am, I am

Rains wench, I am the trollop who beguiles the rain

A tornado skips like my heart as it beats to rain on a tin roof

Flooded with tears, I am, loves torrential down fall
There is no perfect day or sunshine where I live,
I am, I am rains wench

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Broken Hearted


Stormy life of love

Broken hearted                                  

Days of youth wasted

Too old to move

Too old to love

Stormy waves of life’s tragedy

Growing old to young

Friday, April 1, 2016

Melancholy Meadows







Melancholy meadows of dead flowers

Life torn asunder with grief

Weep not for the good times

Pick the flowers of life everlasting and alone

Toiling in the oil of love

Days gone bye
 
© Abigail Madison Chase

Website Design by CoffeeShop Designs at MyGrafico