What Might Have Been And Will Be

Discussion in 'Tall Tales & Fabrications' started by Bill Boggs, Jul 18, 2017.

  1. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Very Well-Known Member
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    Time has expired. Please deposit another nickel.
     
    #1
    Last edited: Jul 18, 2017
    Chrissy Cross likes this.
  2. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    Very good!
     
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  3. Joe Riley

    Joe Riley Veteran Member
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    ...lost theater tickets!:eek::mad::oops::)
    [​IMG]
     
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  4. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    @Bill Boggs , I don't have another nickel. I'm down to my last penny. Will that work?
     
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  5. Ina I. Wonder

    Ina I. Wonder Very Well-Known Member
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    How about a plug nickel?
     
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  6. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Very Well-Known Member
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    Ok.
     
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  7. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Very Well-Known Member
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    What Might Have Been or Will Be

    How fortunate you are to be a writer who is on good terms
    with her muse, and be the poet touched with a gift
    of language and poetic insight, Even blessed with a touch
    of psychic ability. For there is available to you a stream
    of knowledge, energy flowing through the air akin to radio
    waves. This field of knowledge encircles the globe and consists
    of all knowledge that ever was. It is the energy shed by all
    souls departing since first man, left on deposit, available to all
    who follow, ready to be tapped and utilized when needed.

    The key to knowledge is locked away in the right brain and can
    be activated by thoughtful meditation, close communion with
    the muse, or dogged, grueling repetitive research. Can we know
    and learn what the muses and psychic tendencies brew up by the
    stories we tell? Or what bright splashes of color energize our poetry
    as we stand in the grand cathedral, and watch greatness at work.
    We have touched this energy field, felt it surge through bodies,
    the brain swelled with exurbance and excitement, the muse
    working overtime, the hands can not keep up.

    Life was happening, much to tell. Think of it. You, your muse,
    your psychic all working together, pounding out sheet after sheet,
    story after story, oh glorious possibilities. When out of the blue
    it happens. The muse takes a break, gets a cup of tea, walks by,
    that magical mirror that goes back and forth in time, says look
    at yourself, old and wrinkled, can't write. Stop right there. Muses
    are fickle, come and go like the tide. With the right brain, tap
    into that other source of electrical energy. Communing with the
    energy of those past. It will re-charge the mind.

    Sitting alone, hearing far off waves lapping some distant shore,
    knowing you are at peace with your own essence, pondering all
    possibilities and what is yet to be and life waiting to be told.
     
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