Naked Reflections Poetry: Shameless and Unapologetic

Tag Archives: Muse

November Writing Challenge Day 2: Unmuted Muse

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Today’s prompt asked me to write about a challenge I had to overcome and to write about it in couplets.


Unmuted Muse

With a new marbled notebook and purple flair pen

I would unmute my muse’s voice again

Surrounded by teachers who love to write

We’d compose together and find our light


I chose to face my deepest fears

Some I’d kept hidden for too many years

Wondering if I could reveal it all

Or if writers’ block would be my wall


I started with Malibu Barbie, that bitch

Who made me believe I could be rich

And blonde and tanned and skinny and pretty

My hair was kinky and I looked shitty


Then cancer found its way on the stage

While tears bled ink on my page

I birthed words that once knotted my noose

Never expecting my spirit would come loose


Until that poem I titled RAPE

Would leave every mouth and heart agape

Cocked to speak and release the shame

I am not my tragedy, shout my name.

Her Haiku Healing: A 40-Day Spiritual and Emotional Journey

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Day 40: Light


Although my journey

is not over, I can see

clearly in the dark

My 40 days of haiku healing have reawakened my muse, helped me express feelings from the depths of my darkest pain, and allowed me to walk in faith towards a light that awaits me at the end of this spiritual and emotional journey. Although my journey is not over, I can see clearly in the dark. I can see that I am worthy, that I matter, and that it is time to begin anew. I’ve always believed the scripture that says weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.  I can hardly wait for that morning. It may not be tomorrow, but it’s coming.

Short Story in Progress

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Vignette #2


Café Madeleine was our favorite place for breakfast. Martine, impeccably dressed, welcomed us and took us to our private table in the corner.  I always loved the way the fountain became our background music.

Menus, a formality, because we both already knew what we were having. Franco adored the Quiche Lorraine, and Quiche Florentine was my weakness. Raspberry Mimosas came to the table within minutes after the waiter delicately placed our napkins in our laps.

“To you, Ms. Delacroix, and your smile, your sweet spirit, and your success.”

My eyes couldn’t drift.  It was almost as if his eyes and mine were fused by a spiritual force.

Blushing slightly, “To you, Mr. Washington, for being my muse.”

As our glasses clinked, I saw it for the second time in the last few days we had been together. A loud emotion behind his eyes that spoke to me, silently and clearly. I wasn’t mistaking it for my own. It was his.  In time, he would share it.

“What’s on your mind this morning Morena?” The warmth of his hand over mine gave me a sense of calm, although I couldn’t say what I was thinking.

“I was thinking that I want you to tell me what you want, Franco.”

“I want you. Right now. Right here. In broad daylight.”

Feeling his hand caress my thigh under the napkin, my heart raced. I knew it was just a matter of time before his fingers would find my silky wetness and we would both be licking our fingers. Then Martine would serve us breakfast.