<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAEQXY4eSp7ImA9WhRWEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311</id><updated>2011-12-29T08:05:00.831-08:00</updated><category term="curses" /><category term="poetry" /><category term="laughs" /><category term="romance. love angel" /><category term="flowers" /><category term="The Warlord's Dust by Maxwell Alexander Drake" /><category term="snow" /><category term="Death" /><category term="roses" /><category term="life" /><category term="humor" /><title>Slaves to the Muse</title><subtitle type="html">We are writers, artists and musicians. We don't know why we are driven to do what we do. We just know that there is something there that needs to be expressed. We love what we do and hope you do too.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>101</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/SlavesToTheMuse" /><feedburner:info uri="slavestothemuse" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkANQXc4eCp7ImA9Wx9aE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-8834098378613890438</id><published>2011-03-05T11:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T11:53:10.930-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-05T11:53:10.930-08:00</app:edited><title>a slice of "—slice"</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/8834098378613890438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=8834098378613890438&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8834098378613890438?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8834098378613890438?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/6vD4dhWXsiQ/slice-of-slice.html" title="a slice of &quot;—slice&quot;" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">© Copyright 2010, 2011 C. D. Bennett

 

It can be argued that hatred is a living thing. More destructive than any weapon, more insidious than any sin. Hatred can shatter families, topple nations, and given time, unmake the world.


— C —  
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5lrVkitG2QVzdzqgCYgyt_ZWo_0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5lrVkitG2QVzdzqgCYgyt_ZWo_0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5lrVkitG2QVzdzqgCYgyt_ZWo_0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5lrVkitG2QVzdzqgCYgyt_ZWo_0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/6vD4dhWXsiQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/03/slice-of-slice.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMARnw4fyp7ImA9Wx9bEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6033996188265494999</id><published>2011-02-18T17:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T17:04:07.237-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-18T17:04:07.237-08:00</app:edited><title>Branigan's Lass</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6033996188265494999/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6033996188265494999&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6033996188265494999?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6033996188265494999?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/mZfmRooMuag/branigans-lass.html" title="Branigan's Lass" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eiw9Qc0VHuE/TV8W2-J8WGI/AAAAAAAAAFU/pArAcc1tPXk/s72-c/images+branigan.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0               false   false   false      EN-GB   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                                                                     &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e0liK08qeJCrWme8D7eHjxlOJHY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e0liK08qeJCrWme8D7eHjxlOJHY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e0liK08qeJCrWme8D7eHjxlOJHY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e0liK08qeJCrWme8D7eHjxlOJHY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/mZfmRooMuag" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/02/branigans-lass.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8ESXk7eCp7ImA9Wx9VEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-8808214990566629890</id><published>2011-01-26T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T08:20:08.700-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-26T08:20:08.700-08:00</app:edited><title>The way of Things......... ... Some thoughts about loss.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/8808214990566629890/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=8808214990566629890&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8808214990566629890?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8808214990566629890?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/SWgFiVxHK1w/way-of-things-some-thoughts-about-loss.html" title="The way of Things......... ... Some thoughts about loss." /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TUBIxK1RDfI/AAAAAAAAAEk/jJ4gBi8knq0/s72-c/images+thoughts.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I am not gone
Please never think me so,
The world must turn
Tides ebb, and spirits grow.
Our souls evolve
As everything must do,
Though bodies fade
My essence stays with you.

It's natures way
That everything must change,
All bodies grow
Then fall to rearrange.
But nothings lost
Just takes a different form,
Our souls remain
Complete as when we're born.

Some summer days
You'll feel me close at 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uYgA45kIhayoX12Ey5Xee3whnO4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uYgA45kIhayoX12Ey5Xee3whnO4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uYgA45kIhayoX12Ey5Xee3whnO4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uYgA45kIhayoX12Ey5Xee3whnO4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/SWgFiVxHK1w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/way-of-things-some-thoughts-about-loss.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcBSHs7cSp7ImA9Wx9WF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-1382158490216528260</id><published>2011-01-22T05:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T05:14:19.509-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-22T05:14:19.509-08:00</app:edited><title>Chasing Something</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/1382158490216528260/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=1382158490216528260&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/1382158490216528260?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/1382158490216528260?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/EHM1y1NpHsw/chasing-something.html" title="Chasing Something" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TTrX8tZnHnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y2NrBcKpDm4/s72-c/images+dreams.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Those were the days
Do you recall,
When we were young
And dad's were tall.
The sunny days
Would come and go,
Now looking back
I miss them so.

The years they flew
So fast it seems,
We stretched our arms
To catch our dreams.
Now here I stand
And wonder why,
I chased a dream
That made me cry.

Yet still I know
That such is fate,
Don't end the show
It's note too late.
There still is time
For one 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QRdIzwAczJnG5x6_wPSENTMviHU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QRdIzwAczJnG5x6_wPSENTMviHU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QRdIzwAczJnG5x6_wPSENTMviHU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QRdIzwAczJnG5x6_wPSENTMviHU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/EHM1y1NpHsw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/chasing-something.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQFRXg4eCp7ImA9Wx9XFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-7833975289168301787</id><published>2011-01-09T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T07:51:54.630-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-09T07:51:54.630-08:00</app:edited><title>The Death of Blixton</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/7833975289168301787/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=7833975289168301787&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7833975289168301787?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7833975289168301787?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/4dpPh8Pt788/death-of-blixton.html" title="The Death of Blixton" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TSnZbG4asgI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ft6u-IjS4_o/s72-c/image010.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0               false   false   false      EN-GB   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77MZtNo0kxpbNHYMSwk8evxiENg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77MZtNo0kxpbNHYMSwk8evxiENg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77MZtNo0kxpbNHYMSwk8evxiENg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77MZtNo0kxpbNHYMSwk8evxiENg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/4dpPh8Pt788" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/death-of-blixton.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUCQn0-cCp7ImA9Wx9XEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-3787228551450258049</id><published>2011-01-05T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T09:57:43.358-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-05T09:57:43.358-08:00</app:edited><title>Aeonian Legends: Immortal Bloodlines</title><link rel="related" href="http://www.maxwellalexanderdrake.com/pages/bloodlines.html" title="Aeonian Legends: Immortal Bloodlines" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/3787228551450258049/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=3787228551450258049&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/3787228551450258049?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/3787228551450258049?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/L2j51cr1zP0/aeonian-legends-immortal-bloodlines.html" title="Aeonian Legends: Immortal Bloodlines" /><author><name>Drake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00955872071377122196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="26" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_24PYJTpCBvE/TGClZPG3uOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1t0faRZRYdk/S220/Drake_color.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Part One of my new graphic novel Aeonian Legends: Immortal Bloodlines is out. Check it out on my website at http://www.maxwellalexanderdrake.com/pages/bloodlines.html
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Efhlh21NkXnCIn-mka9xHq3XSoY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Efhlh21NkXnCIn-mka9xHq3XSoY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Efhlh21NkXnCIn-mka9xHq3XSoY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Efhlh21NkXnCIn-mka9xHq3XSoY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/L2j51cr1zP0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/aeonian-legends-immortal-bloodlines.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MGQH04fSp7ImA9Wx9XEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-8370407043208118724</id><published>2011-01-03T07:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T14:57:01.335-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-03T14:57:01.335-08:00</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/8370407043208118724/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=8370407043208118724&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8370407043208118724?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8370407043208118724?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/S25Hcof-RIQ/sorry-for-my-absence-fellow-slaves-and.html" title="" /><author><name>Bryce Main</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04056370738435508155</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kBHUN5L14kk/S4L_wAstrRI/AAAAAAAAAB4/evaLMmLuGFU/S220/Dad.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Sorry for my absence, fellow Slaves (and Mistresses). For the beginning of the new year, I thought I'd give you something a little different to my usual fayre to peruse..........



                             ADAM FIVE.       

                     

                                                Copyright Bryce Main  2011





When Adam Five awoke, it caused one helluva hoohah! They just 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Puf7zTECePZerpxNLXwRX5Ymixs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Puf7zTECePZerpxNLXwRX5Ymixs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Puf7zTECePZerpxNLXwRX5Ymixs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Puf7zTECePZerpxNLXwRX5Ymixs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/S25Hcof-RIQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/sorry-for-my-absence-fellow-slaves-and.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEMQ307fip7ImA9Wx9XEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6656990671895190385</id><published>2011-01-02T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T22:04:42.306-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-02T22:04:42.306-08:00</app:edited><title>Away</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6656990671895190385/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6656990671895190385&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6656990671895190385?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6656990671895190385?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/I-JAKfsekds/away.html" title="Away" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">a companion poem to Tami Snow's 'Gone'
by C. D. Bennett


Thoughts of you are whispers on the wind
Echoes of love too faint to recall
A smile at sunset
The sound of laughter in the hall
A knowing glance
A breathless dance

We were a spark
The world set to burn
Now with masks to hide our torment
Each of us now take our turn

We had our chance
You turned away
No mask can hide
What our souls did say
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VACRycU7dTq6r7qpULr9DXReT5g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VACRycU7dTq6r7qpULr9DXReT5g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VACRycU7dTq6r7qpULr9DXReT5g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VACRycU7dTq6r7qpULr9DXReT5g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/I-JAKfsekds" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/away.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcGSX08fCp7ImA9Wx9XEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-1532797806888628269</id><published>2011-01-02T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T14:23:48.374-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-02T14:23:48.374-08:00</app:edited><title>Gone</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/1532797806888628269/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=1532797806888628269&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/1532797806888628269?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/1532797806888628269?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/ZAlXxC2rDIc/gone.html" title="Gone" /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">My head was filled with thoughts of you today. Creating your memory in a thousand different ways. The ease with which you'd make me laugh. Those things you'd do that made me gasp. And then I wondered... where have you gone? Not long ago you dangled my heart on a string. Filled me with happiness, caused me to sing. My world seems a little bit broken now. I'd paste it together if I only knew how. 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oGoinGK6NxYJahaRiZZTUVz5dpY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oGoinGK6NxYJahaRiZZTUVz5dpY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oGoinGK6NxYJahaRiZZTUVz5dpY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oGoinGK6NxYJahaRiZZTUVz5dpY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/ZAlXxC2rDIc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/gone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QBRH4_eSp7ImA9Wx9QEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6477113885590300133</id><published>2010-12-24T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T09:22:35.041-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-24T09:22:35.041-08:00</app:edited><title>CoCo Saves the Winter Snow</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6477113885590300133/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6477113885590300133&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6477113885590300133?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6477113885590300133?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/xOWLfKEipJA/coco-saves-winter-snow.html" title="CoCo Saves the Winter Snow" /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html"> 
Written by Tami Snow



Once upon a Christmas Eve, not so long ago,

Jack Frost flew swiftly through the air, casting ice upon the world below. 

When out of a tiny window blew, a fragrance oh so sweet,

he decided to have a look, and floated down to take a peek.





Through the crackled window pane, Jack opened it up wide;

Old Man Winter took a breath, the air it whirled inside.

As the 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Kc6Dvm423LknvZPb36dyMl46-rc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Kc6Dvm423LknvZPb36dyMl46-rc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Kc6Dvm423LknvZPb36dyMl46-rc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Kc6Dvm423LknvZPb36dyMl46-rc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/xOWLfKEipJA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/12/coco-saves-winter-snow.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8AQHg9fyp7ImA9Wx9REk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-4496091069554945251</id><published>2010-12-13T01:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T01:50:41.667-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-13T01:50:41.667-08:00</app:edited><title>Embers</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/4496091069554945251/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=4496091069554945251&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4496091069554945251?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4496091069554945251?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/9id0I63CrR8/embers.html" title="Embers" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1oT5uIL7l_s/TQXsN1KsnuI/AAAAAAAAANY/7hRfDV8YjjY/s72-c/burning+heart+-+Fire+plastic.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">by C. D. Bennett


Falling

Apart

Lost in circumstance
My world falls to ash

That cold envelops me
This darkness draws me down

Crumbling apart
Lost and empty

Embers scatter to the wind


  

— C —
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/foJlkrguNRdRPI9DUykBlrmBFao/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/foJlkrguNRdRPI9DUykBlrmBFao/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/foJlkrguNRdRPI9DUykBlrmBFao/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/foJlkrguNRdRPI9DUykBlrmBFao/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/9id0I63CrR8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/12/embers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YESXs8cSp7ImA9Wx9SFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6060573759007153283</id><published>2010-12-04T09:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T09:51:48.579-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-04T09:51:48.579-08:00</app:edited><title>Goodbye Valparaiso.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6060573759007153283/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6060573759007153283&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6060573759007153283?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6060573759007153283?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/vkD8pd7o2fk/goodbye-valparaiso.html" title="Goodbye Valparaiso." /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TPp_jV4LE3I/AAAAAAAAAEM/33CTMKEavEY/s72-c/ship_storm.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">We were four weeks on our way from Valparaiso. Sailing home across Atlantic blue.It’s been three years since I kissed you by the harbor,                Long time away                But every day                I thought of you.
That night I woke to hear the wind was howling,The sea arose with fury in her eye.Every watch was called on deck to fix the storm sails.                And we knew
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XpY-OxuSqjXbc8N7zcTvP6xl1uE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XpY-OxuSqjXbc8N7zcTvP6xl1uE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/vkD8pd7o2fk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/12/goodbye-valparaiso.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MNSHk4fCp7ImA9Wx9SEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-5199725489750707786</id><published>2010-12-01T20:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T20:51:39.734-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-01T20:51:39.734-08:00</app:edited><title>Epilogue</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/5199725489750707786/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=5199725489750707786&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/5199725489750707786?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/5199725489750707786?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/YUPd_nouz9w/epilogue.html" title="Epilogue" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">by C. D. Bennett 


A night cold and weeping
The road dark and wet
Glistening, shimmering
Drag me down
Call me home

No solace, No end
Drowned and helpless
Wounds without mend

The rain cries my name
Speeding down the lane
Engine roars
Lines blur
Teeth clench
Hands tight
Eyes wide

Heart in my throat

Drifting
Spinning

Silence
Oblivion


— C —
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n9hta6qX6oRU_M9aO6ih8wWt3Wg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n9hta6qX6oRU_M9aO6ih8wWt3Wg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/YUPd_nouz9w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/12/epilogue.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ICR309fCp7ImA9Wx9SEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-8041017969841885061</id><published>2010-11-30T06:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T07:06:06.364-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-30T07:06:06.364-08:00</app:edited><title>The Alpha's Christmas Miracle</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/8041017969841885061/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=8041017969841885061&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8041017969841885061?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/8041017969841885061?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/58th2Oejr_o/alphas-chrismas-miracle.html" title="The Alpha's Christmas Miracle" /><author><name>Abigail-Madison Chase</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11387615810760802067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="21" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uuRk_xqFnM8/S-gLPgfxlkI/AAAAAAAAAAY/VdGB7ZLOjT8/S220/j0411781.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uuRk_xqFnM8/TPUQd6DMhmI/AAAAAAAAAWc/wlWW69_nXfc/s72-c/00439764.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">His breathing was shallow his soul was at war.   The man standing beside his bed was no longer the Alpha of his pack.  He was a father who was about to lose his son. The Long Road was calling him to his mate, his Destiny. The Alpha was as old as time itself.  He had never lost a child despite his advanced years. He would not lose Rhys the future leader of his pack, more than that he was his son.A
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G_KsIgNXU48-1_nNARBqnrL8AZk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G_KsIgNXU48-1_nNARBqnrL8AZk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G_KsIgNXU48-1_nNARBqnrL8AZk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G_KsIgNXU48-1_nNARBqnrL8AZk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/58th2Oejr_o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/alphas-chrismas-miracle.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHSHY-eip7ImA9Wx9SEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-7895745969089943259</id><published>2010-11-28T22:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T22:55:39.852-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-28T22:55:39.852-08:00</app:edited><title>Dune Dragon</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/7895745969089943259/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=7895745969089943259&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7895745969089943259?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7895745969089943259?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/7bN8RyOKdpg/dune-dragon.html" title="Dune Dragon" /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">  
Upon a motored steed I climbed 
Mounded hills of dusted diamond 
Tempered moment forgetting time 
Wind licking, human touch undone 
 
Breezes stir sand through my hair 
Encircling me in a tawny cloud 
A dragon appeared hovering there 
Before my sight, simple yet profound 
 
Just how in this whirling wind he stayed 
So easily bouncing and shifting in flight 
Glistening green-eyed, locking my 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bkKCfza6Fn7cmloUMd4B3TIhG-0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bkKCfza6Fn7cmloUMd4B3TIhG-0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/7bN8RyOKdpg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/dune-dragon.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8NQnc-eSp7ImA9Wx9TFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-4062045703560937862</id><published>2010-11-24T01:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T01:28:13.951-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-24T01:28:13.951-08:00</app:edited><title>A Dream?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/4062045703560937862/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=4062045703560937862&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4062045703560937862?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4062045703560937862?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/PvrFDzzzjC0/dream.html" title="A Dream?" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TOzY1jczb7I/AAAAAAAAADE/8BM_rNh2iaw/s72-c/Summer+streams.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">
Last night I lay resting When sleep overcame meI found myself fallingDown into a dream,The darkness dissolvedInto warm summer meadows,Where bright wild flowersWere verging a stream.
I found I was walkingWith you there beside meYou were casually talkingAnd holding my hand.Then I turned toward youTo find you were smiling,Right there at that momentWas all that we planned.
I remember the fragranceOf
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-N1L8biMykdbqtfyVVi-KXewC5k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-N1L8biMykdbqtfyVVi-KXewC5k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/PvrFDzzzjC0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/dream.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NRX45eCp7ImA9Wx9TFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-7212227257278773661</id><published>2010-11-21T22:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T22:39:54.020-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-21T22:39:54.020-08:00</app:edited><title>Ten Things I learned While Visiting Alabama</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/7212227257278773661/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=7212227257278773661&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7212227257278773661?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/7212227257278773661?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/p6SMgWyhiMM/ten-things-i-learned-while-visiting.html" title="Ten Things I learned While Visiting Alabama" /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">
Ten Things I Learned While Visiting Alabama:



There are no street signs. If you don’t know where yer goin’… yer shit outta luck. 
There are no street lights. If you don’t have night vision… yer shit outta luck x2.
It is completely normal for a guy to be drivin’ a hunk o’ crap, half naked, while guzzlin’ a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew. The muffler on his car is for dramatic effect, only. I 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cLGmOL27t2IO-4SYubWz8DwjmBU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cLGmOL27t2IO-4SYubWz8DwjmBU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/p6SMgWyhiMM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/ten-things-i-learned-while-visiting.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QFSHc8eyp7ImA9Wx9TEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-5354333688195560483</id><published>2010-11-18T02:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T02:15:19.973-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-18T02:15:19.973-08:00</app:edited><title>a fragment</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/5354333688195560483/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=5354333688195560483&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/5354333688195560483?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/5354333688195560483?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/S_FQcLQTGXU/fragment.html" title="a fragment" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1oT5uIL7l_s/TOT6bK7sWQI/AAAAAAAAANM/Od7IQ3E-Z3g/s72-c/moon_dust_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">by C. D. Bennett
The following is an excerpt from a story of mine that's been on the back burner for some time now, but it may see the light of day sometime soon...


There are places between the shadows, worlds within the printed page. There are things that live beyond the grasp of conscious thought, things both wretched and beautiful, horrible and fantastic. They are the ether of madness and 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/asDaeDp8YztfmaI4TSasZYUWSVA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/asDaeDp8YztfmaI4TSasZYUWSVA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/S_FQcLQTGXU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/fragment.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08BRHo8eyp7ImA9Wx5aFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-4669577166917030685</id><published>2010-11-12T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T17:30:55.473-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-12T17:30:55.473-08:00</app:edited><title>A Whispered Dream.....part 2.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/4669577166917030685/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=4669577166917030685&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4669577166917030685?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/4669577166917030685?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/IdgmQS91MmI/whispered-dreampart-2.html" title="A Whispered Dream.....part 2." /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TN3qKqWY8WI/AAAAAAAAAC8/O9EaG9IhR24/s72-c/distant-fantasy-world-1920x1200.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">

She whispered,” Wake my loveIt’s time to leave your mortal sleep,For all the stars have turned and IMy vow to you will keep.”
She whispered,” See my loveThe moon has risen blue and white,And all the magic of its glowWill shine on us tonight.”
She whispered,” Come my loveTonight we fly on silent wings,Across the ocean known as timeWhere love forever sings.”
She whispered.” Now my loveCome  and 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N1A16StpOKVwwAMfInFQYJfxGMo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N1A16StpOKVwwAMfInFQYJfxGMo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/IdgmQS91MmI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/whispered-dreampart-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MHRX08fip7ImA9Wx5aFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6214594996230531856</id><published>2010-11-12T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T17:23:54.376-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-12T17:23:54.376-08:00</app:edited><title>Concerto in red</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6214594996230531856/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6214594996230531856&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6214594996230531856?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6214594996230531856?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/tPf9Wm0XBmE/concerto-in-red.html" title="Concerto in red" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TN3oDzMHYNI/AAAAAAAAAC4/9as9ktgnDdQ/s72-c/08pathtobedroom.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">She looks, the devil
Flashing in her eyes, 
Half turns her head
Her smile lingers still.
Then reaching out
Skin lightly touches skin,
That one caress alone
A sensuous thrill.

More red than passion
Woven to a gown,
That swirls and settles
Showing nature’s art.
Now loose and falling
Softly on the floor
In scarlet overture
To beauties part.

Now the wayward
Moonlight in the room,
Projects two 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eaFCQbmOO06PkVI4C_Fv7zvxmGw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eaFCQbmOO06PkVI4C_Fv7zvxmGw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/tPf9Wm0XBmE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/concerto-in-red.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4CR3g6eip7ImA9Wx5bF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-732291139335541559</id><published>2010-11-02T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T19:22:46.612-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-02T19:22:46.612-07:00</app:edited><title>Earthshine Chapter one.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/732291139335541559/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=732291139335541559&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/732291139335541559?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/732291139335541559?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/aYqLV1y-m7A/earthshine-chapter-one.html" title="Earthshine Chapter one." /><author><name>Tami Snow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VFaYxihclag/TSvwDs2KMUI/AAAAAAAAADE/0FrK1Ze1eDs/S220/LLS%2B1%2BProfile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
*1*



            All around me was white. The purest gleam of fresh fallen snow, simple and soft and blinding all at once. The gentle glow enveloped me, comforting me. 

And she was there.

My memory of her had faded, as a negative exposed to extreme light, over time becoming translucent. But her presence lingered always, a ghost on the edges of my recollection. From her embrace, I was pulled.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5FbMU9DN-y8h8Iid6cCYD9MJS7o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5FbMU9DN-y8h8Iid6cCYD9MJS7o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5FbMU9DN-y8h8Iid6cCYD9MJS7o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5FbMU9DN-y8h8Iid6cCYD9MJS7o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/aYqLV1y-m7A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/earthshine-chapter-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQFR3w-eip7ImA9Wx5bF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-212304916141584955</id><published>2010-11-02T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T18:21:56.252-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-02T18:21:56.252-07:00</app:edited><title>First page...too slow??</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/212304916141584955/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=212304916141584955&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/212304916141584955?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/212304916141584955?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/smjdwrvPL-k/first-pagetoo-slow.html" title="First page...too slow??" /><author><name>Alba Arango</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Let me know if this is too slow for a first page to a novel...“Are you sure you want to go through with this?Dorian looked at his best friend and frowned. “It’s the only way Princess Aria would ever marry a nobody like me.”Lexer stared at the enormous mountain before them. “First of all, you’re not a nobody. And second, I don’t think we have a chance of keeping up with Veena. The woman is like 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cJ3N9IheNnwXCLU9frd9Hmbsi9s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cJ3N9IheNnwXCLU9frd9Hmbsi9s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/smjdwrvPL-k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/11/first-pagetoo-slow.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IHQH07cCp7ImA9Wx5UGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-6596762406834233849</id><published>2010-10-23T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T23:25:31.308-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-23T23:25:31.308-07:00</app:edited><title>Me and You and Kerrie Ann</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6596762406834233849/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=6596762406834233849&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6596762406834233849?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/6596762406834233849?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/6Je5NMP6QZs/me-and-you-and-kerrie-ann.html" title="Me and You and Kerrie Ann" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TMPROKcjXeI/AAAAAAAAAC0/85jklo5Z_oo/s72-c/Sailing%2520Boat%2520on%2520Pactola%2520Lake%2520Medium.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html"> We sailed out on that summer’s dayJust me you and Kerrie Ann,Out to the islands in the bayTo where we knew the dolphins ran. 
And as the wind blew from the westFor me and you and Kerrie Ann,It gave each wave a silver crestAnd billowed sails with natures fan.
We stopped and anchored out at seaDid me and you and Kerrie Ann, The day was peaceful as could beMost tranquil backdrop for our plan.
But 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPJhl_9JMiA5Fn9XHqTfKec2x0s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPJhl_9JMiA5Fn9XHqTfKec2x0s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/6Je5NMP6QZs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/10/me-and-you-and-kerrie-ann.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEMSH44cSp7ImA9Wx5UFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-739499836579407359</id><published>2010-10-21T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T00:38:09.039-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-21T00:38:09.039-07:00</app:edited><title>While the world sleeps</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/739499836579407359/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=739499836579407359&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/739499836579407359?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/739499836579407359?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/fAMY52BtC4g/while-world-sleeps.html" title="While the world sleeps" /><author><name>C. D. Bennett</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="31" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGMt7aiGkcc/TgFABdZw-tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/R21eN6PGtXk/s220/me%2Bin%2Brepose%2Bsq.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1oT5uIL7l_s/TL_s8afBrkI/AAAAAAAAANA/cwS8WofNwA0/s72-c/muse+eye.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">a haiku, by C. D. Bennett.

 From a silent shroud,a sleeping world unaware...
My muse awakens 













— C —
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s-srL87QhLxhyssOfPeNs1NkGFM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s-srL87QhLxhyssOfPeNs1NkGFM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/fAMY52BtC4g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/10/while-world-sleeps.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QNRHY-fSp7ImA9Wx5UFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205917488236900311.post-2755508945533662683</id><published>2010-10-20T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T14:16:35.855-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-20T14:16:35.855-07:00</app:edited><title>The faerie dance</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/2755508945533662683/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8205917488236900311&amp;postID=2755508945533662683&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/2755508945533662683?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205917488236900311/posts/default/2755508945533662683?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~3/djtzVF74saI/faerie-dance.html" title="The faerie dance" /><author><name>Alan Gilbert</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13292282693249006363</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sR1G9CNoR2E/TnQ0qIAK6WI/AAAAAAAAAMo/0DhIf3DsY8s/s220/DSC00433%2B-%2BCopy%2B%2B02.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0P9CYn0Buwk/TL9b3feSQ2I/AAAAAAAAACw/kUADzd25x8g/s72-c/3805538861_9c67b550f2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Now the coppice still as evening Cloaked in shadows sombre weaves,Slowly wakes as autumn breezesStir the slumber of the leaves.
As the midnight hour approachesNow the harvest moon is high,Comes the strain of faerie musicSofter than a wood nymph's sigh.
There at the appointed momentGold and silver wings appear,Thus the faerie dancers promiseThe fertile earth another year.
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u1TaWP7-JqNhA9wwXW95P6fk6l4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u1TaWP7-JqNhA9wwXW95P6fk6l4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SlavesToTheMuse/~4/djtzVF74saI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://slavestothemuse.blogspot.com/2010/10/faerie-dance.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

