The stars ran through my fingers

Like cosmic sand through human sieve

For so long I wanted to keep one

Hold its eternal fire in my hands

Now that they were falling

Far from black velvet sky

I could see they had no home

And certainly were not mine

So leaving cracks, they filtered

A brief kiss within my palm,

Leaving scars, they seared,

But all I felt was calm

The stars ran through my fingers

A beauty not caught nor kept

No cage can hold them locked away

No heart can claim their crypt


~ Emily C.



***Author’s note: I don’t know where it came from…I just had an image that I wanted to paint, which is all pretty much new to me…then the poem came. And then, I thought, why not combine them? I’m certainly no accomplished artist, but this is a fun way to express poetry.

Mixed media on canvas. (acrylic, paint Sharpies, paper, pen, glue stick)


On Poetry

A dance of words
a tug o’ war

It is the mind’s music
its glory
its grief
the stories
told internally externally

It is the voice of dreams
of desires
deaths and demons
the love making of psyches
across distances far

It shines light on pain
it turns off light on shame
reveals, steals our hearts
one in the same
we need it, we fear it

we keep some to ourselves

It is our secrets told
the plain, the bold
we pretend we can resist
ignore it, yet
it will persist

Until letters form passion
expression, forms lessons
marked in the ether
by quills of a feather

found in our souls
bound for eyes


~ E




With all that I’ve been dealing with lately, I have hardly been 100% at keeping up with my own writing, and so I’ve been behind on the latest open topic poem requests.  But, it will be good for me to work on these for many reasons. And so here is Peter’s request for the topic: “Poetry”.   Thank you, Peter!

Hope you like it.


all my words stored in the glass jar of my heart

on torn paper stubs, old napkins, parchment

written, folded, erased, edited, burned, kissed

set away there indefinitely, waiting for you

swimming in blood


with each beat


to crack open

spill on the floor at your feet

~ E


Metamorphosis ~ The Strix

For the next topic for The Strix, it was my turn to suggest an idea. Metamorphosis came to mind, and just like always, there are so many ways to interpret that. I hope you enjoy what we all came up with. Again, we don’t read each other’s work before submitting, and so it is always like opening up a beautiful present to see what our minds come up with.

Ever changing, yours….



Biological speaking an example is the butterfly. Evolve out of the caterpillar into a butterfly happens automatically, it’s a natural process. The caterpillar trusts in the power of nature, trusts her own instinct, and becomes a wonderful creature.

Mythological speaking an example is Zeus, God of Ancient Greece, who transformed himself into a bull to seduce Europe, a goddess of love. He succeeded and brought Europe to a strange continent and left her. Aphrodite, Goddess of love, found her there and said:

“Let the bridle and grumbling, pretty girl! The hated bull will come and offer you his horns; I’m the one who sent you this dream. To your consolation, it is Zeus that robbed your virginity: now you’re the earth goddess of the invincible god. Immortal your name will become, since the strange continent that has absorbed you, shall be called from now on Europe! “

Magical speaking wizards and witches transformed various objects and people for good and bad purposes. A Prince turned into a frog by a witch, could only transform back after a kiss from a Princess.

We don’t have the powers of wizards and witches, gods and goddesses.
We do have the power to think, to transform to whoever we want to be.

Who do you want to be?

Patty from Kruidje-roer-me-niet


It had been there for days. The small, mint green bud, hanging by a small stem, on a small plant in her backyard. Lilly wondered what Mr. Tiger was planning. She called him that because he was black with vivid green stripes all over that reminded her of a tiger. He had hidden himself inside that thing for more than a week. Lilly was very worried at the start because she couldn’t feed Mr. Tiger his lettuce anymore, the way she did every day before he wrapped himself up.

She complained to her father about Mr. Tiger. Was he upset with her? She didn’t want him to leave so soon. Her father chuckled and carried her so she could see outside the kitchen window where Mr. Tiger was cocooned.

“Do you think he’s sleeping?” She had asked.

“I think he’s planning a surprise for you, Lilly,”

She squealed at that. Lilly loved surprises. Since then, she had made sure to check on Mr. Tiger every day so she wouldn’t miss her surprise. Today, Lilly did the same. She sat watching the small bud, which had changed a lot in the week. It had a pretty pattern on it and she wondered if Mr. Tiger drew it himself. Just as she did, it shook.

She reared back in surprise, gasping. Its happening! It shook again and Lilly leaned closer so she could see better. His antennas poked out first and then. . . She furrowed her eyebrows. Slowly, the shell around Mr. Tiger fell away as two beautiful wings emerged.

“Surprise!” Her father smiled, crouching next to her.

“Daddy! What’s happened to Mr. Tiger?” She couldn’t look away from the emerging ‘Mr. Tiger’ even for a second. He wasn’t green and black and chubby anymore. She watched, awestruck, as his new and delicate wings expanded, after being squished in that magic bud.

“He’s changed now into a beautiful butterfly, see?”

Lilly saw him test his wings out, spreading them across his back.

“But why?”

“Well. . . That’s how nature works. It’s one way nature shows us that beauty is in simplicity. And if you allow change to occur, you can morph into something beautiful, like Mr. Tiger did,”

Lilly watched the butterfly flutter, taking its first flight.

Michelle from Psychedelic Bay


And now she rises, immortal,
From the million fallen pieces,
The ones she combined after all,
Afraid of the dark faces,
She feared every fall,
For she be but still fragile,
She still grew inside her,
Like the little fire, cold for a while,
And that which burnt bigger now,
Somewhere deep within,
It made her grow,
And so she did,
Along with burns and scars,
She bolstered the joints,
She stitched those pieces,
And grew further, towards the stars,
She grew,
Whole, elegant and new,
Born again from the million pieces,
That the dark had broken her into,
Now she fought with the night,
Using the ever growing fire inside.

Kashaf Shaikh from awordwarriorsblog 



Have you heard of the story of the ugly duckling? I’m sure we all have. And as kids, we might have even dreamed of a similar transformation–when you finally grow into a woman’s body with the perfect curves, or for the boys, to grow strong, with 6-pack abs and big biceps. That’s all good and well. But not all transformations are physical. There are some that take place deep deep down in our being. Like the one I’m about to tell.

This is a story about Sammy and Samantha.

Sammy runs around the house riding her broomstick pretending she is a witch. Her broomstick would take her everywhere she want, from the great castle called The Bedroom, to the enchanted land of The Yard. Samantha runs her breath out trying to catch the bus.

Samantha is horrified of sweets! She’s on a strict diet, you see. Sammy’s favorite food are cake, candies, tarts, pie, and oh!..candies.

Sammy believes on princes and fairy godmothers, of tales about love, valor, and living happily ever after. Samantha’s living her own love story, where there’s no prince or kingdoms or castles to be seen. In fact, she had her heart broken yet again. A fairy godmother would be most welcome now.

Samantha only sings in the bathroom, where no one can hear. Sammy sings to the beat of Timon and Pumbaa, even when half the class is listening.

Sammy would have fun under the rain, jumping on puddles and chasing her dog round and round the yard until Mom tells her to get inside. Whenever it’s pouring, Samantha sulks under the mattress listening to emo songs.

Samantha walks out and locks in her room when scolded. Sammy listens and apologizes.

Sammy is excited every Halloween because it’s the only time she gets to put on makeup. Samantha does it almost everyday to hide her puffy eyes.

Samantha. Sammy.

The two of them are so different, don’t you agree? They are almost opposites, actually. But would you believe me if I tell you that they are one and the same. Surely, the metamorphosis did not happen overnight. It took years, but she didn’t notice herself changing day after day. Until days became months, and months to years. Until finally now. What happened to that happy girl who used to laugh and love the world? What have become of her mirth? Why does she feel heavier. How can she fly, with all her heart’s burden?

Fly. Can a cocoon fly?

No. Not yet.

Alpe John


The greatest of tales as narrated by TIME
Witnessed to go beyond eternity
it’s about a journey
That started with a little warmth
A magical experience so soothing and calm
Minutes passed and then did hours
Gradually, the warmth turned Cruel to heat unbearable
Species of all kind, started to pale
The journey slowed down, even came to a halt
Life was about to declare its extinct
Glaring up to the sky with hands two folded
They decided to pray for a little mercy
It happened then – a secret miracle
The Sun metamorphosed to a Moon
Bringing a breeze to shower the life
The Orange started to turn into white
There was no heat, the journey was smooth
Life, taking its time to relish the cool
Inevitable, the cool progressed to freeze
They all had to wake up from their dream
Once more, they all decided to pray
Looked up to the sky, then closed their eyes
Their lips murmured a few words of magic
And the Moon metamorphosed to the Sun

Zigyasa Kakkar from Mysestina



First bated breath:
powder blue to flushed pink
fragile, screaming, dependent, weak
infantile form, vulnerable, soft and pale
downy fuzz, eyes blurry, seeking milk

Cells divide, new tougher skin grows
heart pounds with skeptical hope
in time learning to walk, run, trip
hardier human form takes shape

Thrown callously into earthly wake
millions of eons of history before her
being hardened, jaded with pain
she smiles past precarious pasts

Opens her molting heart fast
shedding scars each time it cracks
it only heals stronger, adapts

Metamorphosis perhaps…

That predictable constant — change
the only thing that stays the same
in time she has shed herself, become
a whole new her, never succumbed

Entirely new heart, new eyes
new love, new breath, new skies
to view upon the broken world
with hope that truth optimizes

Her constant redesign, her rebirth…

Until one day…wings sprout forth
from her back, set her to lofty flight
above the looming black, into the light
her white feathers illuminating her path

Transformation complete

…she soars.
~ Emily Clapper from PoetGirlEm


Expression Crossing Continents



Song request by Finnegan for Yellow by Coldplay. This is an all-time favorite of mine, so naturally, this makes me happy to try and record it.  Still fine-tuning, but decent for a half-hour’s work of transposing…learning. The chords are more complex than I’ve done yet on harmonium, so that was a good challenge. And of course, singing while playing is also a very good challenge…thanks, Finnegan.

If you want to meet the master of the true six-word story, head over to Finnegan’s page.  He’s amazing, brilliant, and creative, and all that good stuff. 🙂