You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

To think that fourteen could bring such magic

To think that fourteen could bring such magic
To mold a form that could not be without
skyless plunders fraught less gentle tragic
in heart song words the Muse did know about.
For I learn now the how of forming it,
the black enscrawled by way of cloudless sight
like birds who cry the beat of our sonnet
in childish, moonlit bleeding; like the night
I'm born as old awaiting some golden
Part within an other 'pon this whiteness:
The face of Her as made by Sol just when
I discover one who makes me the best.
I pen to see his face a bloom within
And eat the love that's served as sav'ry din. 

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