🥀 𝚂𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗 𝙱.🖋 🚫 No DM’s
@sbwordmuse.bsky.social
𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭/𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫
𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐏
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭
𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ⏾
𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫
𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬
𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.
𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬: http://www.amazon.com/author/susanbocinecterry
𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦: www.instagram.com/sbwordmuse/
𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐏
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭
𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ⏾
𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫
𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬
𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.
𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬: http://www.amazon.com/author/susanbocinecterry
𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦: www.instagram.com/sbwordmuse/
Moments of peace
and silence in the
early morning,
candles burning,
coffee mug warming
my hands,
watching the moon set
waiting for daylight to
seep into the shadows
of the room.
The day will begin,
a fresh start, another try,
and maybe just maybe
Some magic to be found.
s.b.
#poetry #moon
and silence in the
early morning,
candles burning,
coffee mug warming
my hands,
watching the moon set
waiting for daylight to
seep into the shadows
of the room.
The day will begin,
a fresh start, another try,
and maybe just maybe
Some magic to be found.
s.b.
#poetry #moon
December 5, 2025 at 11:18 AM
Cheers to the last full moon of 2025. She is big and bright tonight.
#fullmoon #supermoon #coldmoon #moon
#fullmoon #supermoon #coldmoon #moon
December 5, 2025 at 2:33 AM
Cheers to the last full moon of 2025. She is big and bright tonight.
#fullmoon #supermoon #coldmoon #moon
#fullmoon #supermoon #coldmoon #moon
December 4, 2025 at 11:11 PM
So many memories
in the corridors
of my mind.
The people and
times left behind.
Every old song
opens doors of
nostalgic thoughts.
The way my heart
hears them,
the way my soul
aches when the
lyrics puncture
my skin sending
goosebumps up
my spine,
bringing back
all of those times.
in the corridors
of my mind.
The people and
times left behind.
Every old song
opens doors of
nostalgic thoughts.
The way my heart
hears them,
the way my soul
aches when the
lyrics puncture
my skin sending
goosebumps up
my spine,
bringing back
all of those times.
December 3, 2025 at 11:17 PM
So many memories
in the corridors
of my mind.
The people and
times left behind.
Every old song
opens doors of
nostalgic thoughts.
The way my heart
hears them,
the way my soul
aches when the
lyrics puncture
my skin sending
goosebumps up
my spine,
bringing back
all of those times.
in the corridors
of my mind.
The people and
times left behind.
Every old song
opens doors of
nostalgic thoughts.
The way my heart
hears them,
the way my soul
aches when the
lyrics puncture
my skin sending
goosebumps up
my spine,
bringing back
all of those times.
I’ve crossed, oceans,
borders & boundaries
with a heart of gold.
I’ve spent years loving
& doing for people
who wouldn’t or couldn’t
do the same for me.
Yet my ♥ has never
turned to stone.
It can’t help but flower
even in this hard, cold world
because some of us
are just made that way.
borders & boundaries
with a heart of gold.
I’ve spent years loving
& doing for people
who wouldn’t or couldn’t
do the same for me.
Yet my ♥ has never
turned to stone.
It can’t help but flower
even in this hard, cold world
because some of us
are just made that way.
December 2, 2025 at 7:40 PM
I’ve crossed, oceans,
borders & boundaries
with a heart of gold.
I’ve spent years loving
& doing for people
who wouldn’t or couldn’t
do the same for me.
Yet my ♥ has never
turned to stone.
It can’t help but flower
even in this hard, cold world
because some of us
are just made that way.
borders & boundaries
with a heart of gold.
I’ve spent years loving
& doing for people
who wouldn’t or couldn’t
do the same for me.
Yet my ♥ has never
turned to stone.
It can’t help but flower
even in this hard, cold world
because some of us
are just made that way.
“All ideas are second-hand, consciously and unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources.”
Mark Twain's magnificent letter to Helen Keller when she (yes, even she) was accused of plagiarism.
www.themarginalian.org/2012/05/10/m...
Mark Twain's magnificent letter to Helen Keller when she (yes, even she) was accused of plagiarism.
www.themarginalian.org/2012/05/10/m...
December 2, 2025 at 5:03 PM
“All ideas are second-hand, consciously and unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources.”
Mark Twain's magnificent letter to Helen Keller when she (yes, even she) was accused of plagiarism.
www.themarginalian.org/2012/05/10/m...
Mark Twain's magnificent letter to Helen Keller when she (yes, even she) was accused of plagiarism.
www.themarginalian.org/2012/05/10/m...
The waxing moon
within it’s cloudy veil.
On this dark night it
shines papery white;
before the dawning of day
it will have faded away.
s.b.
#poetry #moon #waxinggibbousmoon
within it’s cloudy veil.
On this dark night it
shines papery white;
before the dawning of day
it will have faded away.
s.b.
#poetry #moon #waxinggibbousmoon
December 2, 2025 at 2:02 AM
The waxing moon
within it’s cloudy veil.
On this dark night it
shines papery white;
before the dawning of day
it will have faded away.
s.b.
#poetry #moon #waxinggibbousmoon
within it’s cloudy veil.
On this dark night it
shines papery white;
before the dawning of day
it will have faded away.
s.b.
#poetry #moon #waxinggibbousmoon
Eyes in the sky over my neighbors house this evening.
December 1, 2025 at 11:19 PM
Eyes in the sky over my neighbors house this evening.
Flames engulf a
vulnerable heart.
Your fire draws me in.
Your colors unreliable.
Always flickering,
always changing.
I look at you then
quickly I look away.
I will get my warmth
from my own fire,
the one I know so well.
The one I know will stay.
s.b.
#poetry
vulnerable heart.
Your fire draws me in.
Your colors unreliable.
Always flickering,
always changing.
I look at you then
quickly I look away.
I will get my warmth
from my own fire,
the one I know so well.
The one I know will stay.
s.b.
#poetry
December 1, 2025 at 2:00 AM
Flames engulf a
vulnerable heart.
Your fire draws me in.
Your colors unreliable.
Always flickering,
always changing.
I look at you then
quickly I look away.
I will get my warmth
from my own fire,
the one I know so well.
The one I know will stay.
s.b.
#poetry
vulnerable heart.
Your fire draws me in.
Your colors unreliable.
Always flickering,
always changing.
I look at you then
quickly I look away.
I will get my warmth
from my own fire,
the one I know so well.
The one I know will stay.
s.b.
#poetry
Good morning from my cousin in Herlíkovice, Czech Republic. I wish I was there.
November 30, 2025 at 12:53 PM
Good morning from my cousin in Herlíkovice, Czech Republic. I wish I was there.
It hurts when you do so much for someone special. In the end they say, “I didn’t ask you to do any of that for me.”
November 29, 2025 at 10:51 PM
It hurts when you do so much for someone special. In the end they say, “I didn’t ask you to do any of that for me.”
A bundled up cardinal and his Starbucks. We treat our feathered friends very well here.
Happy Saturday. I hope it’s not too cold where you are.
Happy Saturday. I hope it’s not too cold where you are.
November 29, 2025 at 12:10 PM
A bundled up cardinal and his Starbucks. We treat our feathered friends very well here.
Happy Saturday. I hope it’s not too cold where you are.
Happy Saturday. I hope it’s not too cold where you are.
Thanksgiving
cold and snow.
Nostalgia.
Absence of people
remembered.
The holidays are
but empty chaos now.
A cabin in the woods
sounds nice.
Yet one feels guilty
about not feeling like
it is a special day for the
sake of everyone else.
Just sinking into the soft,
primal imperfect now.
cold and snow.
Nostalgia.
Absence of people
remembered.
The holidays are
but empty chaos now.
A cabin in the woods
sounds nice.
Yet one feels guilty
about not feeling like
it is a special day for the
sake of everyone else.
Just sinking into the soft,
primal imperfect now.
November 27, 2025 at 11:02 PM
Thanksgiving
cold and snow.
Nostalgia.
Absence of people
remembered.
The holidays are
but empty chaos now.
A cabin in the woods
sounds nice.
Yet one feels guilty
about not feeling like
it is a special day for the
sake of everyone else.
Just sinking into the soft,
primal imperfect now.
cold and snow.
Nostalgia.
Absence of people
remembered.
The holidays are
but empty chaos now.
A cabin in the woods
sounds nice.
Yet one feels guilty
about not feeling like
it is a special day for the
sake of everyone else.
Just sinking into the soft,
primal imperfect now.
Always thankful for the sight of the moon. Thanksgiving moon through the car window.
#moon #firstquartermoon
#moon #firstquartermoon
November 27, 2025 at 10:16 PM
Always thankful for the sight of the moon. Thanksgiving moon through the car window.
#moon #firstquartermoon
#moon #firstquartermoon
It’s coming, but can I get through Thanksgiving first.
November 27, 2025 at 5:30 PM
It’s coming, but can I get through Thanksgiving first.
Good morning and Happy Thanksgiving! 🙏🏻🍁🦃🍽
November 27, 2025 at 11:33 AM
Good morning and Happy Thanksgiving! 🙏🏻🍁🦃🍽
If I click snooze three times
will I awake someplace new?
For I’m afraid I won’t ever
be the one who escapes
in those red ruby shoes.
🌈✨👠
will I awake someplace new?
For I’m afraid I won’t ever
be the one who escapes
in those red ruby shoes.
🌈✨👠
November 26, 2025 at 7:11 PM
If I click snooze three times
will I awake someplace new?
For I’m afraid I won’t ever
be the one who escapes
in those red ruby shoes.
🌈✨👠
will I awake someplace new?
For I’m afraid I won’t ever
be the one who escapes
in those red ruby shoes.
🌈✨👠
Lingering coffee
steaming upward.
People who speak the
same silence as you.
The sun that sets
for the moon.
Forests with rivers,
and birds.
Sacred harmony
the purpose.
We are in the
discovery stage.
It’s the free thought
and exploration we
are gifted with
upon conception.
s.b.
steaming upward.
People who speak the
same silence as you.
The sun that sets
for the moon.
Forests with rivers,
and birds.
Sacred harmony
the purpose.
We are in the
discovery stage.
It’s the free thought
and exploration we
are gifted with
upon conception.
s.b.
November 25, 2025 at 12:22 PM
Lingering coffee
steaming upward.
People who speak the
same silence as you.
The sun that sets
for the moon.
Forests with rivers,
and birds.
Sacred harmony
the purpose.
We are in the
discovery stage.
It’s the free thought
and exploration we
are gifted with
upon conception.
s.b.
steaming upward.
People who speak the
same silence as you.
The sun that sets
for the moon.
Forests with rivers,
and birds.
Sacred harmony
the purpose.
We are in the
discovery stage.
It’s the free thought
and exploration we
are gifted with
upon conception.
s.b.
Late night conversations
between the moon and I.
There is never a need to
worry... your secrets are safe.
between the moon and I.
There is never a need to
worry... your secrets are safe.
November 24, 2025 at 10:57 PM
Late night conversations
between the moon and I.
There is never a need to
worry... your secrets are safe.
between the moon and I.
There is never a need to
worry... your secrets are safe.
I use to be a mountain. Now I’m just another brick in the wall.
November 24, 2025 at 4:00 PM
I use to be a mountain. Now I’m just another brick in the wall.