November blooms

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She is words, eternal made of wild
and flame offering touch
so bright, dispels silhouette of woe.
As rose is unfinished
without its thorns, my muse revels
when her lustre is born.

Autumn, adorned with moss and
gold reminds of tales which once
were told. She’s gentle rain on
shriveled ground, fealty and hope
her melodious song.

She knows me as a woman knows
her strength,
urging boldness
clear out of its stifling den– as
wave’s wayward without resolute
shore, my
muse revels when her
rage is born.

She is words eternal, made of wild
and flame,
breathing hymn and
prayer into a restless mind.
As moon’s
bereft without accompanying stars,
my muse revels with her softening heart.

November blooms despite augural skies
as love bears weight of wanton sighs. 
I’m ardor fueled by word’s solicitous gaze,
through wary nights and endless days.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Magaly invites us to ‘art our loves with words in them’.. I chose to portray my love
for words and how they fuel my passion for writing in return. 

Posted for the Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads

Posted for “October’s Heart-bits” with Magaly


36 Replies to “November blooms”

  1. If you heard a squeal, worry not… It was me! I love the idea of our muses knowing us as well as we know ourselves. For this speaks of what we can birth together, of the paths we can walk and the roads we can create with our art. Words are magic, and when the magic users know just what they can do with them, the result is miracles.

    I love this, my Sanaa.

      1. I came back for seconds… This time around, the last stanza sings the loudest to me, what it says about tomorrow, about the fire that keeps us bright and burning when the dark tries to take it all.

  2. For me November blooms is something so utterly unlikely … it becomes a dream, and maybe it should be so 🙂

  3. Beautifully written Sanaa and with such strength of purpose in the words as winter starts to show itself. The third verse being so strong in that determination.

  4. A beautiful late-blooming rose, Sanaa! I have no roses, only a very stubborn late honeysuckle bloom I love that your rose is ‘made of wild and flame’ and ‘gentle rain upon shriveled ground’; and the lines:
    ‘She knows me as a woman knows her strength,
    urging boldness clear out of its stifling den, as
    wave’s wayward without resolute shore…’

  5. Love, love this. Upon first read I thought (unwittingly) “I want to be her.” Pretty sure my reading and reaction will evolve upon more readings. This is gorgeous, Sanaa. Sigh.

  6. This is so beautiful and entrancing, every word and image woven with sublime magic and awe! There is both a gentleness and and a sharp potency that I can feel moving at the same time in your words…breathtaking!
    So wonderful visiting more of your heart-bits! amazing!!!

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