Bluebird of happiness

Closing down the old year

some files on art and poetry

thinking about Muses

friends and bad encounters

flashpoints in front of

my mind’s eyes.

Most important is freedom

of mind and soul

love that happens

at an instant.

Sensing human vibes

the artist choses his

appropriate canvas.

The poet extracts his words

from the midst of paint and


while his tear turns into

a precious stone

the bluebird of happiness

that grew out of this

woman’s wavy hair

holds in its open beak.

Is she a foreboding spirit

of his next Muse?




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