Inspiration - entry for the mini bardics

POETRY NEWS #4361
Date: 07/20/2013 at 19:45
From: Bardic Blade Galos De'Verres, Daisei of the Hold
To : Everyone
Subj: Inspiration - entry for the mini bardics

I dont normally dedicate my work to any one, but three times now This Man-no Angel has rekindled my falme of inspiration and for that I am so greatful.


Inspiration is like water, it can be cool and clear, or warm and muddy. Like water it refreshes you, washing away the grime of an idle mind and the cleaning the cuts made by broken aspirations. I have walked in the desert of futility, with no inspiration in sight hands grasping at dry sand trying to write or paint, heat buffeting me on all sides until I fall unable to rise to the challenge. Then, like a a spring rain inspiration falls in waves cooled and pure giving me the strength to create again.

Some times I am so flooded with creativity that I drown in it, mind unable to focus or sit still. my mind rushing from one though to the next poetry, story, song, painting. a piece here a drop their a few words...the activity making my head hot, my blood boil like I would catch on fire if i don't find release, and there like a balm to cool my head, a performance lights and stage crowds cheering my name is called and I
bow....and flooding from me a tidal wave of colour, washing over the hearts of those watching.


Poetry is a song with out music only the wind keeping tempo, it sprouts from the earth like a budding flower for all the world to see its colour. The person that speaks the poem does so with a racing heart like a powerful river, her skin hot burning like fire and the inspiration to write such words dawn on them like the sun.

songs are the tears that flow from the emotional spirit raining from the minds eye falling from over head on to the ears of those around, the one singing i glowing with pride and and honour with joy and sadness all of the things the feel being let go in rush of music.

stories are history, written in the minds of children and the story grows with them until it is no longer a tale but an epic five minds long with triumphs and pit falls wedding and funerals. the teller weaves their words together eyes closed heart, the mind feeding the crowd their history.

paintings are made by the soul, It is the image seen by the spirit imprinted in canvas wanting to me shown to the world, the paint like blood flows from the hands of the painter, pulling across the canvas creating imagination in the flesh, their spirit bleeds and shows the world what their mind sees.

Dance is the expression of the body, the beat of the heart the movement of the soul, the mind creating the tempo and the body pulled along on strings crafted of creativity, a turn. a spin. a twist. body stretching shaping images creating a story, painting a picture singing a song, Dance may be the true art, the art of perfect expression where the body give all and touches every thing, and the dance? a master artist, a champion of creativity.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Mayan, in the year 630 AF.