The Wanderer

My muse awakens…. 🙂


The road stretches forward through the hazy day. The dusty rose and golden sky a backdrop for the hundreds of pink and white trees surrounding, and lining the pathway before me. A dream, hence, but is it? A present in an unknown realm? Past converging on an origin point in my own Universe of imagination…or a memory? I wander upon the heavily trodden dirt path, which weaves through a grassy meadow. The grass…a subdued green, a green of vintage photographs…is short and soft, and inviting for me to sit upon, and rest, while the journey of unknown experiences awaits in either direction. Birds melodically sing, and a soft, warm breeze ruffles my hair, and caresses my skin. The air is sweetly scented, heady and pleasant. Fluffy white clouds float lazily by… shapes created out of mythical imagination…setting the scene of dreamy surrealism. I walk for miles, but the road does not end. The atmosphere does not change. The treed scene envelops me, and beckons to me to return night after night. Draws me into that world…is it the gateway which leads to all my other places in dreamland? They feel so similar, though time seems different. Where is this place? When is this time? Why is it so familiar, even though it is not? Time shifts, worlds move in unison, as well as independently. I am a wanderer, but I belong here….

©WD(sapphyreskye) March 31, 2014



Darkish Poetry Fun

Whilst surfing for quotes and such, on this fine, gray, foggy, frosty and spookyish “Spring” morning….I came upon this fun site…
and thusly wrote this darkly wonderful vampirish poem.
A “cheat poem” maybe, since it is sort of generated with multiple choice, but never the less, it inspires me to sharpen my wordsmith stakes…umm…I mean, skills. heh.
hint: *read with intense, and sinister dramatic voice*….


It is a night of subtlety, a song of ethereal pain,
wolves vent their loneliness. The beautiful one

Curling, icy wisps of death shroud her brooding form,
a timeless dread.

Her silken hair cascades over
translucent ivory shoulders, and her
full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste the
life streaming from the
pale flesh beneath

Now a night of shared vitality,
I awaken.



Sunday Musings on Time Travel

I just started reading Outlander 7, “An Echo in the Bone”. I settle in for Outlander with an intent of comfortable escapism to unwind from my week, as I do for most of my Sundays these days…in my big recliner with a huge cup of tea, and my dog sleeping next to me. I CRAVE being “inside” those books, actually. So hard to put down and be away from. I take my Kindle everywhere…


By book 7, the characters feel like family. I know that sounds a little wacky, but it is true. I am a bit wacky, so for me, it is normal. 😛  It is like I stepped through the stones myself in a way. I feel like I am right there watching everything, but like Samantha does on ‘Bewitched’, when she wants to observe without being seen. Just sitting above what is going on, completely invisible. So, anyway… I got to thinking about time travel, like I often do, and wondering….

If you were to go back into time 200 years…and even though you could return back to the present time…decided to stay in the past time and live out your life(without interfering with things such as meeting any ancestors, etc.)…And if it was totally separate from anything that could complicate your being born in the future (assuming that your just being there didn’t alter the space time continuum in the process)…. would you still be born into your future time? Having essentially lived nearly a whole life 200 years earlier? Would you be born “yourself” and grow up to be the person you were past the point where you stepped through the time portal? Or would you repeat that, as though it was destiny…over and over again? Only live in your present time until you went back? Living each separate life over and over? Or different yet…if you lived in your present life until you stepped back into time, would the past life be the same over and over, or would you know things to thus alter it, after having already experienced it already?

Chew on a licorice stick, and muse on that mind bender for a while! 😉 hahahaha!

A documentary on the subject of time travel…not related to the book…but fascinating….always, infinitely, to the end of time and space… fascinating. 🙂

Love it. Love it. Love it.


Just Sitting Here Chewing On a Stick

Ok…it is technically a root, but it looks like a stick. It is a licorice root, and they are a kind of tasty, if weird, thing to chew on. Here is a brief article I found about them…

I just felt somewhat odd sitting here, reading, and chewing on a stick, so, of course, I HAVE to write about it! ‘Tis one of my many fascinating experiences, after all! 😛 I am not eating it for any of the aforementioned(in the article) benefits, but just because hubby happened to buy some, and they were there, looking all intriguing, and such. If they help the inflammation I usually have in my stupid old knee joint, then WONDERFUL! BONUS!

Plus, I remembered when I used to have them as a kid. Back then I picked it up at an old-fashioned candy store at a historical park. It is just a bizarre thing to do, really, but also kind of calming, and satisfying. 🙂

I wonder if Hobbits like them? Looks like something a Hobbit might chew on. lol


Canadiana Lane

After looking for the vids for my concert post, I of course stumbled across a million more songs in the suggestions bar at UToobe, and so, I AM COMPELLED because of my musical obsessions (hahaha) to listen, and take that memory lane walk….walking down the Canadian musical memory lane scene, circa the 80s/90s….good memories…. 🙂

Oh, and I’m sharing one. Because it grooves me right now, and because I can’t seem to help myself! Plus, Canadian chicks know how to rock! ;D

Alannah Myles…


I Went To A Concert in 1983

Feeling nostalgic tonight. I get that way sometimes.

A concert in November 1983….

…from the perspective of a 17 year old girl crazy for music and musicians….

Drive to the city on the day the tickets are put up for sale. Have to get there early, because it tends to sell out. Alright! Tenth or so in line. Wait, wait, wait… 2 or 3 hours, sometimes in the cold wind. So worth it, though. Buy the tickets… which were around $25 at the time. Festival seating…

Day of the show…
Arrive 3 hours early because we NEEED to be in the front row. Tickets in hand, ready… Finally, the doors are cautiously opened and there is a mad rush of teenage girl hormones racing to be first. Run! Don’t trip down those stairs from the arena seating to the main floor… Run like never before, rush past that skanky looking thing in the 3 inch heels… what was she thinking? 😛

Yay! Made it! Front row… Crushed against the stage, because there was no barrier back then, when he was still new on the scene. The stage touched the crowd. Oh, it hurts, as the surge continues behind us. But we don’t care. The adrenalin stops us from caring that our ribs are being crushed! lol

The lights finally go down. There is a huge tide of screaming… swooning. It is only the opening act, but the excitement is tangible. On go the stage lights as they take the stage already playing one of her hits. (It was Luba). The roar is deafening. So close are we that we have to crane our necks to look up at them. Guitar man right there… inches away… mesmerizing me with his fingers….

Opening act finishes to rowdy applause and the lights go up… Time to breathe. Or can we… amidst the pot smoke…. lol! Apply fresh lipstick, fluff the feathered back hair… have to look great because he will be out soon, and see US…

Already hoarse from screaming, the lights go down again. We find our voices and scream some more. Here he comes. We have waited months for this moment. Soon he will be inches away from us. In person, larger than life, in the flesh… and making us swoon with that raspy voice of his.

Disc camera at the ready, but some wench next to me has her hands all waving in front of my shot. I nudge her. She scowls at me, but moves.
Bryan takes the stage finally… we are giddy with delight and admiration. The cassette tape we played until it wore out and I had to buy a new one, is about to come to life. Our favorite songs…. the soundtrack of our teenagehood. Right there, in living technicolor and dazzling live sound. Scents of pot, dozens of perfumes mingling together, and his musky sweat are heady. We look up in awe at this man who dazzles us with his music. Who speaks to us through it….

I snap some pics. No digital camera, so I can make sure I get the shot. Just have to hope for the best. Soon he is coming towards us, mid song, hand out to touch us. He touches most of them lightly, as he goes by, but mine he grabs and holds on to for a few moments. I think… I will never wash it again! lol He lets go, and I am lost…. drunk on the music, high on it (well the heavy pot smoke probably helped lol!), high on this person who has mesmerized me and has just made my year by grabbing my hand. It was soft and nice, btw! *grin*

He towels his forehead off and tosses the towel. We reach for it… I got it!! But so does hand waving chick. Damn. We negotiate for it and finally come to a deal about ripping it in half. Yay! Bryan’s sweaty towel! A treasure! (still have it, btw, in the same baggy I put it in way back in ’83…. ewwwwah! Not opening that! LOL!)
Another treasure is a broken drumstick the drummer threw out. Lucky this night, am I!

Finally over, after two encores, everyone files out nicely, but excitedly chattering to each other. Quite the switch from the mad rush at the start. Sweaty, and spent, we talk animatedly about how wonderful it was. Swoon at how cute he was in person. Gush at seeing him so close up, and that hand grab….. oh my…

Driving home, we proceed to try and wear out the second cassette tape….
It was a magical night 🙂

*did it all over again in ’85 and got some great pics from that one too* 🙂





Seems to be parallel universe day in my mind today. Well, not really surprising since I do happen to think about them quite a bit. I also love movies and books that have to do with the subject. They intrigue me. I wonder sometimes if dreams are a window of sorts into seeing them….hmmmm. Food for thought.

I had a dream once, about one of the houses we used to live in. There were two of me. I watched “her” through a window. I couldn’t leave back to my own Universe. I was misplaced. I was trapped. It was freaky. It was a very Twilight Zone-ish dream. I wrote a poem about it the next morning….


Wandering, but not really lost…
Lost, but things are familiar…
Misplaced was I.
Wondering what I should do…
The house was the same.
The street the same, too, but also not in little ways…
We had never moved from that house.
I live in it, and all is well.
I could not enter.
I don’t live there.
I wandered…
wondering what I should do now.
How to get back?
Where did the portal go?
The one hurtling me into this familiar,
but other, Universe…
There can’t be two of us, and I am lost…
Endlessly wandering in this familiar,
but unfamiliar, plane of existence.
Not fitting anywhere here.
And I am trapped…

©WD(sapphyreskye) March 2013