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    Fia Naturie wrote a new post

    Skin Hunger

    It's so long since I felt your touch. How do we sleep in the same bed and not even graze each other? You pushed me away, With self-deprecating statements. You tell me you are sorry. As I suffer from your exile. Till death we said. How...

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  • A Jersey Shore in Ryegate

    A Jersey Shore in Ryegate   There were raspberries in that pasture there was a hill from which we could see a couple old Vermont towns   we were the youth of the fifties scrambling through the brush dodging cows that gave us   a puzzled eye chewing cud in...

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    • How sad that all things must change. I can relate in some ways just walking out my front door and seeing rows of houses where once woods where we played sat. All my childhood friends left when they heard of other boroughs moving in. They were right. I can imagine how hard it must be for you to go back and see a different world, one not so loving.

      • thanks Tim…most of it is the same….this concerned one particular spot I remembered, or thought I did and wanted to look at it once more. But I could not get to it…all overgrown…

        thanks for your words…and sharing your story.
        j.

    • This poem is full of gentle nostalgia – the raspberries, the cows, the hills all bring the past vividly to life. It’s quietly profound, and I could almost step into that memory myself. Beautifully done, j

    • Phenomenally penned, Jacob. Love the nostalgic flavor, and the memories in a small corner of a past universe. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • Some say you should never go back. Not me, I am a great one for nostalgia. Things change, not always for the better, but memories last a lifetime. Fabulous poem and your latest book title too. I love our bovine friends. Can remember walking through meadows myself as a child.

      Chris

  • Acres of Barren Ideas

    Acres of Barren Ideas   in a quiet booth back of the cafe sat a cup of coffee with fingers twiddling the handle fingers belonging to an old poet   trying to come up with an idea for a great poem   the waitress brought a refill but he gently shooed...

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    15 Comments
    • That is a horrible feeling when you think about it. You had it in your hands to write then it gets dashed away.

      • jacobFog September 26, 2025 At 7:51 am
        Did you ever have a really great idea, but you are driving somewhere, and by the time you get where you are going….abracadabra….poof.
        the thought has left you?
        Ugh!
        Thank you, Fia.
        j.

    • Did you ever have a really great idea, but you are driving somewhere, and by the time you get where you are going….abracadabra….poof.
      the thought has left you?
      Ugh!
      Thank you, Fia.
      j.

    • Yes, the mojo being torn away or lost. Often it’s the frustration of knowing what could have been that really hurts.

    • If we weren’t poets, we would probably just say “Oh well.”

      But we are, so it hurts deeply when we lose good ideas…and at my age, I really have to catch them fast.

    • We have all been. I was black coffee with three sugars for years. I cut the sugar and the coffee and many other desired tasty stuff. Sucks. But, I’m only 9 years away from the ages my parents were when they died. I want a bit more time.

      • Thank you for the share, Paula. Yes, as we grow older we make decisions…do I be careful with what I eat and drink, so I can stay longer. Or, what the hell, I am going to enjoy the rest of my time, no matter how long it is…so I will eat and drink whatever.
        Thanks for your comments.
        j.

    • Cleverly penned, Jacob. The life of a writer, I think we’ve all been there. Great storytelling my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • If you lose an idea you will always have another. If you have it brewing it will resurface or it will fly on.

      A very vivid scene painted with few words

      Regards James

    • I have always found a cup of coffee to be a great conjure of thought. Just like a rainy day that puts you in the mood for film noirs at TCM. Somehow, I just can’t imagine you ever being at a loss for words!

      • Oh, many times I cannot quite grab that one word I am looking for out of the air.
        Try unsuccessfully….but I am lucky….enough of them seem to find me.
        Thank you for your kind words, Kelly.
        j.

  • Profile picture of emmagreen

    emmagreen and Profile picture of StyxianStyxian are now friends

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    emmagreen
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  • Profile picture of Styxian

    Styxian wrote a new post

    Wick Still Warm

    “Wick Still Warm” My hands are washed in crushed myrrh,my lips steeped in honeyed wine.I come to you not as mere man, but flame—and as the hush between temple bells,eager to exclaim. You are carved within the dark of me,like gold...

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    • Awesome poetry, Styx. I always enjoy your articulation.

    • Thank you Tim. I’m trying to get away from my long prose pieces and attempt things more poetic. My goal anyway. LOL.

    • This gives me hints of Egypt and Africa. The chalice is a beautiful offering of self. Love this.

      • Thanks Fia. That is an interesting comment. Because Del is actually doing a piece of artwork for one of her writes, and the pic has a very obvious nod to Africa.

    • Beautifully penned, Mark. Incredible imagery my friend, amazing write. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • Thank you Damian. I already see some slight edits that it needs. LOL.
        I usually blurt my writes out like blood from a bad cut. But this one I built. -Trying to step up my game a bit i guess.
        Good to see you still kicking it up in here!

    • And this is why Mark. This is why we write. Impeccable as ever. Tis always been a joy to read you. Do I get an invite to the wedding? A Welshman running loose under U.S of A skies.

      Need to share this. It cut me like a blade into the guts, but I have moved on. There will never be enough room in my heart to thank the likes of you and Gary. In redemption, Rob

    • Ah but Rob, I’m only a two generation back American. My people were boat people. LOL. I enjoy the diversity of cultures, obviously. It is how we progress as humans. Yes? All of my years in the Army further strengthened that belief.
      Del and I are not rushing a wedding. And, we just may elope to Vegas when the time comes. So far we are still doing the airplane rides back and forth to see each other. (Jobs, etc… ) But the future is obviously obvious for us.
      As for writing, I’m still hacking at what I hope is worthy reads. I look for like-minded writers such as yourself, that are into the crafting of it all. No fluff, no generic porn just for attention. I will take a handful of dedicated writers to surround myself with, because it betters me. It was a reward discovering your own material. And still is. Som thank you for the comradery.

    • Oh. This read makes me feel like molten lava. Truly. It’s not rushed and had me smiling the whole time I read it. I have not written in a while. Material like this gets me motivated. I wish I had 4 arms! I’d get more work done! Great nod to intimacy honey. This is fantastic! Love you:)

      • You do not need four arms. You have plenty of awesome bodily abilities just as you are! What!
        And hey, you’ve been very busy getting your book done! New writes can wait. You’re accomplishing something epic!
        You motivate me! Smooches babydoll!

    • Reading this poem felt like stepping into a sanctuary where intimacy becomes devotion. Its language carries a quiet heat, dignified yet deeply stirring. “Your fingers are pilgrims” and “read me in cursive” stood out to me as moments of profound connection, not just passion. The closing image, “a candle still warm at the wick,” leaves a soft afterglow – a reminder that some encounters echo long after they’ve passed.

    • Wonderful comment, Romaj.
      I’m finding some keen motivation here in Starsrite, to write what I hope to be quality reads. Include yourself in that motivation. You are a gifted writer.
      The “warm at the wick” was my fav idea and carried this write for me. A snuffed candle, yet that served its purpose.

    • This is an outstanding, passionate and heart touching piece, Styxian! The imagery and the wording are brilliant! I love how you elevate your relationship to a higher spiritual level by using cross references to the divine, like the Psalms or the chalice!

      • Alas, Sappho, I do not know the exactness of spirituality. I myself lean towards aliens more than religion for a so called higher power. Yet, there is something out there, that makes us elevate our dreams, our thoughts, our love… Religion is handy in that regard.
        Sometimes, a relationship seems “heavenly” even. Above our norms. And, reading others’ material seems to steer me at times towards a direction to write about. That’s where good writes come in. It feeds me to try my own. So you keep doing what you do. You’re top tier.

    • Very muchly enjoyed sir .. Neville 😎👍

    • “I am yours, not for the night,
      but for the echo it leaves in our bones.” This thought spoke to me Styxian. The whole of the poem did as well. There is a feel of REAL Love, the kind that shares not only the intimacy, but everything that life presents to both of you. A sharing that leads to a hold-fast bond. I don’t think many have this kind of shared connection, or this kind of love. You express it delicately as well as passionately. Really, nicely written Styxian.

      -Curt

      • Actually I dwelled on that part for quite a bit. I changed it a little, changed it back. And here you are highlighting it as a positive. So thank you for reassuring me that it is okay as is.
        And I appreciate your comment as a whole, as well.

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