Touched by Fire features June 28, 2010

Hello, friends. Yesterday’s features are now blog material. This is the first time that I pick a visual theme (time, patience), and it was a very enriching experience. The poems also carry an element of longing, intimacy and desire that I feel relates to the visuals. Don’t forget to visit these talented writers and artists… they enjoy your feedback!

Hold onto nothing, As fast as you can… by Christine Oakley

requiem for a sonovabitch by greeneyedlady

he was born in the late 1930’s
the third of three children
he came after the second one died
petted pampered and spoiled
the only son of Midwestern Bible thumpers
and while they sat in their pews and prayed
he was hiding behind the barn smoking cigarettes
guess their religion never rubbed off on him
he always got his own way
he never really outgrew the feeling
that the world revolved around him
grant him eternal rest, O Lord

i was born in the early 1960’s
the third of four children
not petted pampered nor spoiled
and i came after the first one died
when i think of my father what springs to mind?
Stetson hats and Marlboro cigarettes
and all those other cowboy cliches
the ever present Seagram 7 in his hand
a leather belt and an ugly mouth and a sense of humor
that required my complete humiliation
in order to seem funny
i didn’t have a meaningful conversation
with the man until the day he died
for i never believed he wanted to know
he was unapproachable
his love so fucking unattainable
grant him eternal rest, O Lord

he moved us all South in late 1970
he fell in with the Texas cattlemen
but you can’t blame them for the things he did
his destructive tendencies started way before then
he missed everything that mattered to me
he was never proud of me at least that i could see
he never showed me how to drive a car
never gave a potential lover the third degree
he never read a bedtime story to me
his favorite lines were, you know where we are
and, what we do for one we have to do for all
so he just abandoned us all equally
grant him eternal rest, O Lord

he started leaving when i was about thirteen
he left bit by bit and was as intangible as mist
by the time i was fifteen
he wouldn’t bother with formal goodbyes
and i always wondered why?
what did i do?
wasn’t i his family, too?
i felt my life was not my own
anytime i found a place to fit in
he’d do something thoughtless to knock me out again
and years later when he finally wanted me there
i said, i have my own life now
and now i don’t care
grant him eternal rest, O Lord

he’d never known the real me
not the angry hurting wounded me
certainly not the joyous me
for she had developed a protective habit
of disappearing
from anywhere he might happen to be
he never discussed his life with me
never sure where he was supposed to be
his anger seemed to surge
every time he set eyes on me
what was it about me
what mirrored images did he see?
grant him eternal rest, O Lord

and when his life finally came to a close
he said he saw Jesus in the TV set
i guess he thought that was the best he was ever gonna get
and so he died the peaceful death
that he did not earn
and to this day i still sometimes miss
the selfish old sonovabitch
but i haven’t found forgiveness in my heart yet
as i wander through these days
of cold remorse and slow regret
orphaned and alone to wonder yet
what my requiem will be

The Waiting-Room by Graeme Hindmarsh

Tasha by Wingpoem

Hey Tasha
I’ve been thinking of you, honey
And I wanted to say
I know
What it’s like
When it all breaks apart
And all hell breaks loose
When everything you’ve been
Relying on
Is gone
Oh I know, baby
And I know
The healing power
Of tears
Because I cry all the time, baby
And I know
How hard it all is
When there are kids involved
And how hard it is
To see someone you once
Now despise you
And baby
I know
You can’t even talk about it
I couldn’t either
Just know
I’m always here for you, honey
To listen
To cry to
I’m your friend, baby
I understand
I’m right here

Time after time
by gaele

Honey With a Drop of Static by Tycatz

The coffee stains on my mustache,
Reminders and traces of long nights spent
Discovering you, discovering me.
Bursts of static as you exhale smoke into the microphone,
“Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?”
Lost in translation, but words
Go unspoken and unneeded at times.
I’m sorry love,
I don’t think you get good reception on Neptune.

Blankets and pillows on your messy floor,
Where you you lay as you ask me,
“Does the distance bother you?”
And I give you my certain, no thought needed answer
Of course not, you are always with me
And I am always with you and your voice in my ear
Brings me to you and you to me
And we are together in some other place
Where time and space do not exist at all.

Though you are hesitant, you do believe me
Eventually, deep down inside somewhere.
I can tell because
You get very quiet and I hear you thinking.
The way your voice spills out,
“Yeah,” like milk and honey, the smooth
Sweet nectar of your vibrations as they send your thoughts
Down to Earth to me.
A strong and subtle agreement, reassuring words to you
That although we hit the static, the thunderstorms of conversation
There are no rains that could wash us away
All together.

We will sit out on the front porch
And enjoy the dance of lightning across the galaxy.

burntframe by clancy214


One Satisfied Woman by princessleah

As we walk down the isle
I am eagerly anticipating your taste,
your essence
Out of dozens,
I chose you
as I am certain you will not disappoint
As we walk over the threshold,
I pounce on you
Tearing at you like a mad woman
I’ve been craving for you all day
As I free you from your constraints
and we are both ready,
I tilt my head, as you explode in my mouth
I can’t help but smile as I see myself in the mirror
devouring every single drop
I resemble an addict, hungry for her high
and as I kick off my heels and put my feet up,
I realise that I AM ..…….. a one satisfied woman……….
on a friday night,
armed with a delicious
can of whipped cream in one hand
and a huge plate of chocolate cake in the other………

A pleasure only a woman can truly understand
Nine by HollyGoLightly

fences by mohawk man

will fences really keep us safe
from the harms that are at bay,
or will they let thru just enough
to take our will away.
maybe we should build a wall
iron, tall, and true;
solid protection from the ills
that make us sad and blue.
but please remember as you build
your safety wall my friend,
the things you’re trying to keep out
are the very things stuck in.
perhaps a vent, or purge, or scream
is all it really takes,
to drive the bad back into hell
and end the nightly shakes;
that terrorize our very souls
and reak havoc on our days.
and make us want to die or kill,
or wander in a haze.
i think all that need be done
is to band together strong,
and let our words, and paints, and art
be our healing song.
no need for walls keeping out the light
that might just guide us home;
nor fences tall, in the way,
when we want to roam.

Dream On by Manolya F.

To My Adult Son: Poetry and Suffering by Maggie Vlazny

You say your hundreds of poems are “no big deal”???

Its a secret language.
Only some can understand it,
a chosen few can speak it.

You must be initiated:
a bloody ritual of human sacrifice
and tormenting joy
that cannot not last.

Therefore the agony.

Like a prophet you are given the excruciating vision.
You scream and rage against it
but it is done to you

and when it is finished
you can write your poems
or you can die.

We’re marked but its invisible.

We walk alone
always alone
and if we are lucky once in a while
we recognize each other along the way
and share, for a moment, the kinship of survival.

And so I greet you now,
you of my body and of my blood,
you, my first poem,
and whisper this:
we are cursed but we are blessed.
You will be alright.

I can’t say more
they don’t allow it.
Each one must find it for himself.
So though I would stab myself
in my own heart with your pain
if I could
to spare you
I rejoice in knowing that you too have grown wings
and fly closer each day
toward the gods.

© Maggie Vlazny 2010

Touched by black and white – Challenge winner

Nothing like going back to basics, when it comes to a challenge. This time, the idea was simple: “share a picture that touches you with it’s use of black and white“. One of our cohosts, Matthew Dawkins, was voted challenge winner with An Ode to Katie. Go visit his RedBubble profile ASAP!

What the artist wrote:

Taken July, 2007

An Ode To Katie

Hey you! Good afternoon
Everyone is staring at me
Its been forever
Since I’ve been able to see
Been able to see that beautiful face
And I know that I can’t leave
Or have just one last embrace

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you.

Now I’d love to have you back
So you can tell me what to do
But God has taken you
Not ashamed of the life I choose to live
You’ve got my heart
And its all alone
And I’m far away from the things I’ve shown

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you

Now its time
And I’ve been so alone
But now its time to go
And let go of that Tuesday night

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you.

Goodnight Katie.

Happier, healthier – Challenge winner

Hello, friends. It’s time to share with you the most voted work in one of our latest challenges: Happier, healthier. The concept:

Art inspired by medication. You or someone you know may have experienced with an affliction that required a physician’s prescription. Share your art or clothing with medicated themes.

This not too popular challenge was inspired by octobray‘s piece Numb (be sure to comment on it).

Now, to our winner…

“And just who the hell wrote this damned book anyway?” by Helen Ruiz

What the artist said:

Acrylic on canvas (from my time series)
Someone once gave me a book on coping with chronic pain///LOL..didnt work

TBF Features – June 20, 2010

“Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.”

It’s time to experience the passions of life through the eyes of someone else. Be prepared to be awash with emotion from the following features.

Water Souls by Ming Myaskovsky

for Mariette by Wingpoem

And we talk
Of lambs and doves
Trust and friendship
Marriage and poetry
And we play
In deepest sincerity
And nakedness
And we love
For what else is there?
And we laugh
Because we need to
And we cry
Because we can’t hold back
And we come together
Because it fulfills

New Beginnings by Cherie Sayer

new beginnings by cherie sayer

The Number © by Hector A. Encinas

I want you to know.
I’m not coming back.
Shut the screen off and,
look into my eyes,
Before I go.
I’m not coming back.

If my soul had been a dog.
I would have drowned it,
At birth.

I keep thinking of the dirt nap.
And my mouth buzzes’ like a fridge.
I don’t know myself anymore;
And I don’t know my nature,
Like I probably should.

If I could,
Keep writing what I write.
What comes to me from inside;

I wouldn’t want to.
I wouldn’t,
Want to know who I am.
I don’t.

Ill take the midnight drive.
A hundred past miles an hour.
I’ll take the midnight drive.
And take that final flight,
Off the road,
And into eternal night.
Where I’ll see death in the eyes with o fear.

I want you to know.
I’m not coming back.
Look into my eyes,
I’m not coming back.
I’m not coming back………….

(And for a minute there, I lost my self.
I remembered her.)

I lost my self, deep in her soul.
That light that I had thought extinct,
From the human soul.
It was.
She was something to have faith and hope for.
Something I had lost in complete.

Id found myself in the dodos conundrum.
Wanting to take flight,
And not having the wings to do so.

I lost my self, deep in her soul.
Almost like falling in love with something you don’t know.
I came back to life.
That night,
On the midnight drive.

And for a minute there, I lost my self…..
I lost my self…..

She did quite “the number” on me that night.

Keys by Cherie Sayer

inhaling the heaven or hell of you by Kristin Reynolds

I wish I could say
i smelled you coming
from a mile away—
but all angel’s scents
are one in the same:

graveyards, birthdays,
static and gold,
weapons and blood,
darkness and light.

One way or
you found me

and i
breathed you


© Kristin Reynolds 6 19 2010

ironing out the matters of the heart by helene ruiz

ironing out matters of the heart by helene ruiz

everything and you. by Alondra Blick

It’s really like a symphony, if you listen close enough. Deep enough. Drunk enough. The difference is, I liked classical music, until I met you. I never liked beer, until the taste was like your lips meeting mine, the first time when we were shy. It felt uncomfortable in an exhilarating way. The millions of miles of skin that were still unknown. The lives and the friends and the habits and the way you moved in bed, worried to wake me, unsure of my sleeping patterns or how I’d like to be held. And the feeling of your body, returning to the sheets still damp with soap and a shower taken before waking hours. I would have liked to love you then. Would have liked to picture us standing still, eyes awake and unchanging while the blurred lines of light and lives and memory rushed by us. I would have loved to watch our bodies tumble down the years, gracious and quiet. And on the first night, I dreamt you had changed your mind, and so I buried my head into your back and spent a minute just memorizing the moment. The feeling of your breath shaking your soft frame, and of the mingling of our skin, and the smell of you, and the delicate morning hesitating to push forward. But life moves heavy and quickly and the streets empty and fill like the sea and the waning moon, and small and large things grow steadily, and we are of no consequence. We do not listen to voices in sleep who whisper our mistakes. In another time perhaps, we would have mourned the past, and prayed and shaken the coating of winter from our shoulders, hushed and cold, and moved ahead to the sound of the ritual spring. But instead we gathered our clothes, arranged the morning and made remarks about the future, like it was a living thing that belonged to us. And from the kitchen I could hear the road soaking up the rain and see the mist soaring upwards each time a car or truck passed through. And soon all these things, and all the others would be fragments, nonsensical and vague. Part of a distant time. Mixed up with things that should not have been there. Cluttered halls, and strip malls and afterhours, and the moon, and bars, and cafes, and desperation, and routine, and strangers, and city lights, and admissions, and guilt, and the cold.
It’s really like a symphony, if you listen close enough.

blue profile by frederic levy-hadida

blue profile by frederic levy-hadida

Talk to me by Siki Dlanga

When you talk to me,
I forget that I exist.
Your words become me.

(c) siki dlanga

mind set, 2010 by flovie

mind set 2010 flovie

Nobody’s Son by Trenchtownrock

I have had many saviors
hung around my neck
rosary prayer tears
fragrant offering
the old and new Jesus
gully baptism
still can’t wash
stench of
what never was
what could never be
planted roots
in the earth’s surface
trying to be born
of something
rotted corpse
the I am
without flesh
try to replant
seeped through skin
history’s seed
my twenty first century
Pilate’s edict
head to toe
midnight hanging
holy water
springing from veins
imperfect gods
becoming perfect
born to be sacrificed
I stopped being afraid
once my mama pulled me
from between her legs
stripping away the umbilical chain
looking at me with closed eyes
trying to stuff me back
in her tomb
a mother’s love
hymen doors closed
modern day Mary
without the immaculate daydream
job completed
heard through a baby’s cry.

Features Week 13/06/2010

Good evening, folks. Apologies for the belated features update, handpicked by Debbie. Enjoy!

“…help” by Janae Boswell

Prometheus by ModernMythology

In formless night you moulded dreams like clay
And breathed life into infertile soil
In silence you created soft symphonies
Delicate whispers to dispell lonliness

You stole fire from the Heavens
And it sparkles in your eyes
You stole fire…

Yet for a lifetime you were chained
With beasts devouring you inside out
They may have caused you suffering
But they could never eat your soul

You stole fire and challenged the Fates
How your spirit burnt
You stole fire…

But for how long were you bound
How many years passed in pain
Until you finally realised
That you were alive

The Sun’s flames could not compete
Against your own soul ablaze
The fire of the gods resides within you

Now unbound you see
The flaws of being seduced
By Pandoras and their boxes of woe
And their laments of empty hope

Those tears I cried no longer salt your wounds
As my voice no longer falls upon deaf hears
We both burn fiercely yet no longer scorch eachother

Prometheus blaze and burn like the Sun
Those strong hands create
And shape your new world in clay
Breathe new life and new day

Warm Autumn by Jessica Walker

Concrete, Oily Lies by evitaoz

Up in their towers where they wash
Their hands of blood and oil
And behind closed doors where they count
Their dirty money
Their mouths spout promises
Wrapped in synthetic lie protectors
Blinded by their own false smiles
They have forgotten how to breathe
Though remember how to breed
They have lost the eyes to see
They have buried compassion
Under Concrete plans that
Have no substance
But the wheels need to be kept turning
While time runs through
The people’s hands and
Vanishes in a toxic guilty soup
Of man -made wretchedness
The creatures of the waters
Shed life in brown stained coats

Maybe all that ‘gold’
Is there to oil
The noose
And who will be the judge
It is us the children cry
It us
It always was

Sprinkler Fun by Ruth Tinley

Infinity’s Realm by tkrosevear

My mathematical muse awakened, alive and well
Playing with numbers of days, as this poem will tell;

8888 days were shared within infinity’s realm
Endless possibilities with love’s light at the helm;

Two hearts that once beat singly as one powerful force
Safe within knowing we were choosing the right course;

Each blessing has been counted, as a heart beats alone now
Sweet memories cherished of our once spoken sacred vow;

Knowing the inner power that lives within my soul
An unconventional healing ensues, down the rabbit hole;

Witnessing the silence of the grace to receive
Wisdom’s offerings, that we’ll be reunited – I believe;

Gratitude abound, weaving a new web of life
Now noticing opportunity’s patterns – not strife;

Harmony’s highest order counts on peaceful community
I will stand and be counted, to protect and create unity…

©tkrosevear 5/30/2010
The age old quest for knowledge by Berns

snapshot by Mia Rose

if it’s light that reveals the matter
that allows a peek into the soul
and exposes the essence
of loneliness
your words are light to me

if it’s light that illuminates longing
that reveals the soft-edged shadows
the winding heart trail
of yearning
your gentleness is light to me

if it’s light that makes the body gleam
that gifts its brilliant spectrum
the fiery dance of limbs
of lust
your adoration is light to me

if it’s light that transcends our sins
that mellows the dark
that allows the sunrise
of serenity
your being is light to me

i’m writing with light
with love
this snapshot for you

Unweave a rainbow by rubyjo

Older Woman
by Siki Dlanga

Have you ever seen her?

She’s comfortable in her skin
She’s beautiful but unaware
She’s gracious and strong
She’s wise and sharp
She sees right through you
She’s gone to both hell and heaven
She’s thought she would die
But she lived
She’s left to tell
You have nothing to worry about
She always assures you
Those words have made you mad
Doesn’t she get how hard this is
How can she just say that
Those words have comforted you
Those words have settled you
She is at peace
She is at ease
Her few wrinkles
are gorgeous
Even sexy
Especially when wrinkles are
The least of her worries
Or how grey her hair is becoming

Older woman
How many times
Have I wanted to be you
To be so at ease in my skin
To be so wise
To be so beautiful and strong
To be so at rest and so at ease
As I hold my breathe
Anticipating my next step
Fearful of what might go wrong
If it will be alright
Pursuing the rest of my life
You simply draw back
From the wealth of your years
To spur me forward
Gracefully sometimes harshly
But you are always perfect
Always what I need

You believe
You are at rest
You know who you are
No one can push you
Only you and you do
Sometimes you look at me
With envy
Just to give me wings
Older woman
You are the finest woman alive

(c) siki dlanga

With fire by Amalia Iuliana Chitulescu

Ana…  are you there? by JaNae Boswell

Ana are you there?
Can you hear my plea
help me quiet the voices
that live inside of me

they started in my core
screaming to be fed
but I wont eat a crumb
i’d rather end up dead

Ana are you there?
I need your help to suppress
The scale no longer shows numbers
it just keeps telling me to eat less

For breakfest I had water
lunch some tasty air
dinner a couple crackers
but that fat roll is still there

Ana can you hear me?
I need your help tonight
the hunger pains are back
there getting harder to fight

if you take them away
ill do 1000 situps I swear
please Ana please
just answer this one prayer

And where’s your sister Mia
she was here on my last spluge
I ate a gallon of ice cream
than she graciously helped me purge

But Ana, I love you more
Because I know that your always there
You give me your gifts of new bones
you feed off my despair

but the demons still smile at me
the bastards decorate my plate
all they bring is more pain
and pounds of disgusting weight

Only you understand me Ana
how I need to be empty to be ideal
because nothing tastes as good
as being skinny feels

my haunted eyes are sinking
as paleness takes over my skin
but nothing will get past my throat
because you can never be too thin

I’m at two digits now
my face is beautifully hollow
but I still need you Ana
to help me so I wont swallow

So open up your arms
and take me in your embrace
my hair is starting to fall out
my heart is slowing in pace

Ana take me away
lift all this misery
make me as light as a feather
So that I can soar free

Ana holds me close
as my body turns to bones
She’ll stay with me forever
never again will I be alone

Evil within – challenge winner

The dark side of human nature can be a great canvas to create upon. This challenge celebrated the more eery aspects of Touched by Fire. The most voted image was Emergence by Gary Murison.

What the artist said:

This is a little experiment I worked on with Shelly Hiebert and her beautiful daughter Abi.

I have been experimenting with backgrounds and layering, and Shelly has some wonderful images that make it so easy for me to work with.

All being well, and Abi-willing, there will be some further work in the future, which you will be able to see on Shelly’s page.

Flying towards freedom – challenge winner

This challenge originated from Moonspiral‘s recent feature picks: “writing that conveys the feelings of spreading your wings or defeating your fears”.

The most voted work was Hope is a thing with feathers by gaele

The silenced voice speaks again within the confines of my mind, I want to paint. That’s what I want to do. I want to paint this to-grey-day. I don’t want to do anything for you!

He comes over and looks at me. I can see he is worried.
He asks, Are you sure you’re alright?

I heave myself out of bed and walk to the kitchen. A Willy Wagtail darts after an insect. Someone told me the wagtail is a harbinger of doom, of death, of unmistakable misery. I don’t think so. I watch the fan of its tail unfold flirtatious as the rustling silk of a Japanese courtesan, dramatic as a flamenco dancer. I pull my dressing gown tight and clumsy around my body. Everything is painfully dark inside me. I don’t want to shower or get dressed. I don’t want to brush my hair. I put some music on. Cucurrucucu paloma, the lament I’m hungering after. A rosella, closely followed by another, flies across the seasonal purples of Autumn, the billowing Tibouchina, the wild asters. Like paint their bodies streak brilliant blue and red across my garden. Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba, the sound touches a sadness so deep within, I cannot claim it as mine, deeper than muscle memory, wider than gene imprint. I just want to submerge myself until I’m saturated with this no-start, no-finish unexplainable sorrow.

Softly the night wind singing
Tells me it’s bringing my love to me
With every breath it’s sending
Love never ending across the sea
My heart and I are trying
To keep from crying
But we are lonely
Fly little bird go winging

He’s standing in the doorway now, yelling, turn that fucking noise off! What do you think you are doing? I’m trying to read my newspaper! Turn it off!

I think I’m laughing. I swirl around and around. I see him but I am not here. I turn slowly, my feet no longer touch the ground. I am soft, I am feathered, I am flying. My wings make a whistling noise as they slice effortlessly through the air…

Feeling misty – Challenge winner

We got ourselves a new challenge winner, people! This time, your votes chose Phillip Wise and The Monster cometh. The concept required “moody pieces of art, and fog and mist (that) really hit the emotions pocket with a punch. Please enter your best piece with a fog or mist effect.” Give it up for Phillip and check out the other Top 10 artists.

What the artist wrote about it:

like some demon out of the bible …bush fire year after year strike fear in to Australians
18-55 mm lens at 24mm , canon 400d
1/60 sec
taken at Montagu outside Smithton in nw Tasmania

Feature 06-06-2010

I do apologize for being a day or two late on features.  For some reason I was thinking that next week was my turn to do them.  Anyway…. I enjoyed my morning going through and picking out what I wanted.  I had a very difficult time this go around because it seems like a ton of work has been added lately.  I felt bad about leaving a few things off, because sometimes trying to cut it down to only 12 features is impossible.  So I made notes of the ones I had to scratch this go around.  If someone doesn’t beat me to the punch, I’ll try to hit them when it’s my turn again.  Here they are:

No platitudes for comfort – pix83

Little one, why do you cry?
Did somebody say something?
Did somebody do nothing?
Did something but said nothing?
Hush now. It will be over.
The tears will stop.
The blood will cease.
The world will keep on turning.
Come now. Don’t be a baby.
Don’t let anyone see you.
Not like this, without the smile
blinding them from the obvious.
Without the inane chatter
t o silence the tragic words.
Give someone something to hold –
they’ll use it as a weapon.
Wisen up now, little one.
The sooner done, the better.
Leave your fortress of fancies,
held aloft by illusions.
Just leap off that window ledge.
Don’t be afraid of the ground.
The pain will never compare
to what you’re feeling now.
Stop your pathetic weeping.
Don’t grieve for things you can’t change.
Never mind the broken shards;
sweep them under the carpet.
Life has handed you the cards.
Play them well or die trying.
And should your final day come,
Without the comfort you seek,
Then let the tears flow anew.

Beyond those tracks – evitaoz

The introverts are travelling backwards
On their rails of familiarity
The rat racers are zooming towards
The elusive deadline
The money man rubs his hands
Prints more hardship currency
Children crying for attention
Feebly hold up mirrors
Mother Nature sighs and trembles
Under a cancerous human growth
Still she paints the mornings
In colours of her hope

Mare Insularum – YakusoNono

We’ve turned this night of calm into a tempest of emotions

Creating flames from the friction of our humid bodies

Writing the story of how we reached the climax on the damped sheets of cotton

Who could ever see from our palsy what unfolded only a few breaths ago?

Our muscles twitching ever so slightly as the heat we quickly turned up

Gently melted itself down

I rest halfway on your spine

Hearing the shifting velocity of your heartbeat through the cage of bone;

My new favorite pillow

And even in the dark of the room

I can see you as clear as day,

Aided by the moonshine shinning through

The closed shades of the flower pot’s window

Determined to catch us unguarded—as we were

While you slept soundly, I traced a line on your back

My fingernails softly scrapping your firm skin; hairs standing on end,

Landing each on an island paradise

Imprinted on you from birth

The lips you claimed where yours whispered words of lust and longing

Into the space between your sea of islands and my own sailboat

But only the moon’s shadow puppets dancing on the walls would hear the testimony

Upon waking, when all evidence of love making have been absorbed into our skin,

I shall tell you of the time I migrated from my loneliness

And crafted a nest in the still of the night, straight into your primal self

A Special Woman – Trenchtownrock

If only
the sky will stop moving
changing so quickly
giving my arm time
to reach across the pond
and stroke your silky skin
looking in your sea green
writing poetry of love
on your lips with my fingertips…..slowly
you are that woman
that moves me
your words carved into my flesh
my scriptures

can you feel my shadow
breathing on the smallest hair on your arm
can you feel me taking you for a waltz
it is a beat that only you and I can hear
it is a beat that speaks of love
that though far apart
breathes the same air
close your eyes my love
your morning and my night
serenades the skies
meeting at the half way point
of forever
the ocean knows our spirit
the ghost of those gone
are guiding this path
and our love will last
one of a kind

only one – strawberries

In a world of chaos, money and destruction,
These is only one thing that matters,
In my mind of darkness, doubt and despair,
There is only one light that counts.

In a black and white movie, your are the colour,
When the day is dull and dreary, you are my saviour,
When there is no sound, you are the music in my ears,
In a world on my own, you fight away my fears.

In a heart full of pain, uncertainty and loneliness,
There is only but one cure,
In my cold, tangled fantasies,
There is only one super-hero.

In a cold, dark world, you are my sunlight,
When the day is done, it’s you, who’s by my side,
When there is nothing left, you give me something worth living for,
In a cold place, it is you who warms me to the core.

And for all that has been, and for what is yet to come,
I’ll be by your side, where I belong,
I’ll make no promises, save only one,
To be here,
To fight for you,
And to love you till with my dying breath I’m done.

Unconditional Heart Part I – Anthea Slade

open heart like a flower in the sun
fingers touch the sky that weeps
as petals lick the skin wet
dreams of the elusive rain drop
a seductive key to pandora’s lock.

clarify the gypsy vision
radiate colours that caress
shiver the hot breath quivers near the restless
eyes that look deep into the heart
and do not miss a beat

shape, form, content present
arrested by the soul that speaks
behind the mask of mystery
and the allure of articulate grace
the twitch, the flicker, the sensitivity of your face

penetrating colours cannot hide
the constant hunger that illuminates
the subtext behind the words in ink
pulsating feelings that grow more ripe
as sounds pass inside the illusion of
your elegant dream

dancing with the luminous silence
questions are asked more than answered
respect the difference
yearning for statements that have meaning
beyond the limitations of the moment
outside the confines of an intellectual rhyme

a blood beating heart
pieces back together
growing bigger beyond imagination
colours expanding, mind illuminating
the power of the raw beauty of a heart
that feels without condition

ah, a dream, a vision, a raw truth
to see, to imagine, to touch, to feel
an unconditional heart exists
still lives boom boom boom
in divine grace still beats