LOve Of…

Love of… Each Other, Family, Country, Self, Music, Divine, LIFE! There is so much to love.
Since the month of Febuary will be part of this weeks blog I wanted to represent the beauty and the expansive nature of love in image and in written works.

LOVE OF COUNTRY


Raymondoantonio


MY AUSTRALIA

My Australia is a long and winding
Great ocean road, whose every curve
Holds the promise of new delights and insights.
My Australia feels, sounds, smells and
Tastes of diversity.
Your Australia is white, middle-class
And totally un-groovy.
Your Australia is a straight and narrow
Highway to an old-fashioned, fascist,
Anal-retentive hell!
My Australia is generous, creative,
Adventurous and psychedelic!
My Australia is rich in ways
You could never understand.
My Australia is this ever changing,
Ever beautiful,
Great Southern Land!!!

LOVE OF FAMILY

Goa Family Sunset


Liam Carroll

LOVE OF MUSIC

The Cellist


Caleb Hamm

LOVE OF SELF

Fitting Room


dab

I would rather be standing
in gale force winds
with one who understands my soul
than sitting quietly
in a peaceful meadow
surrounded by those who don’t
~
the winds bring much to learn
and give me strength to endure
but the foremost gift they offer
is the room in which to grow

Out of Balance


GittiArt

Who Is It?


Cosimopiro

Who is it
that calls my name
in the whisper of the wind,
writes my name
across the sky
in wispy ink?
Who is it
that sits chattering
in the corner of my mind,
utters inaudible secrets
across a void
in ancient time?
Be it you,
Death,
who yearns for life,
embracing
with inconsolable grief,
or you,
Life,
who longs for death,
awaiting
for peaceful rest?

Who is it
that watches from within
in the in between of l,
offers enigmatic dreams
across deep sleep
in cryptic cry?
Who is it
that whistles
in the tune of me,
reflects my presence
across the now
in a haunting key?
Be it you,
Aloneness,
who desires companionship,
writing
with aching penmanship,
or you,
Memory,
who plays buried songs,
singing
with melancholic lungs?

Who is it
that dares trespass upon me
in the quietude of my temple,
waltzing awkward steps
across my spine
in ever spinning spiral?
Who is it
that plays
in the sanctity of one’s sanctum,
tossing sacred balance
across the chaos
in darkest stratum?
Be it you,
Shadow,
who seeks divine light,
fluttering
with broken wings in flight,
or you,
Fate,
who walks on shifting sands,
stumbling
with fumbling hands?

Be it who you are,
my name is my own
and I’ll drink your ink
across the sky,
dancing my steps
to any wind blown.
Be it who you are,
my sanctuary will stand strong
and I’ll sleep in tranquil slumber
across the dreams,
whistling my tune
to my own song.

LOVE OF SELF… INNER CHILD

Camellia Queendom


Aglaia b

LOVE OF THE DIVINE

SURRENDER


Artsmitten

The Boy Too Bright for Meters


Cynthia Lund Torroll

Intensity shot through his form
unnoticed but to those
who saw in his stillness

pure stealth

It was a practiced tone
years of tamped down brilliance
distilled presentable to cruelty by blood
(and one not skilled enough to shield him)

He lives ferociously
Tearing down weed, chopping birch
to hone a harvest plenty

He hears with radar

He notes indelibly

His soul a defiant strength

In spite of everything
the Eye that just sees Yes

LOVE OF LIFE

Charons Lullaby


Angi and Silas

LOVE OF EACH OTHER

Incandescent


Laurie Search

6 your hand is a petroglyph inside my walls


Erich Biemer

running a finger across the mosaic
of lips, full and bitter sweet
a tympani is the best reflection
of all these spin networks
baritone knots have proven
the most effective tamper
for certain flames

i haven’t allowed flowers
since after you died

“how can a gardenia hurt anyone?”

wearing a mask
can be a grounding point
white and red oak masks
for the tango of a flask

glasses and obsidian eyes
hide the dizziness
fighting sleep

you rub them with your middle fingers
nose bridge to corners
before shifting your feet to the floor
to get a cold drink
-small moments can make a life
and you know you have forgotten something that lurks
somewhere in the constellation of a brain pan

“calm can be a word for lie”

you look at your fingers
smudged with sawdust ink
and brush them off
on the metal collar

i will not name it
i will not give it the power
of naming
night flier
speaker of the dead

another watches
as you stand facing
a wall
not understanding you moved
through it
long ago

they only wanted to tell you what you already knew/know
i have filled my crossbow with broken arrows instead
and wait on the tracks for the black wind train

i gave up singing too
but painting poetry still came back
even on the worst days
my heart aches
the floor creaks
and yes
on and on
in shade
the words beat

© by ebiemer

Features 1-23-11

I don’t really know what these features have in common this week. The images and writing just really jumped out at me. I think they all have a story to tell and a strong emotion to express. So here you go, this week’s features full of beauty, pain, and all that’s in between:

man
Untitled by Thomas Acevedo

A Walk Down Joshuas Path by Jascie Epinn

Two nights and a day had passed
when we walked along Joshua’s path
You had a cigarette behind your ear
Clearly you could see I was sad
about how we lost all that we had
But you couldn’t stay somber
You turned to me
Your heart in your lungs
And you took my hand
before you sung to me
to me…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Three weeks and eight months had passed
when we took a ride down Joshua’s path
You had a look on your face that was unclear
Clearly you could see that I was mad
my hardened eyes were iron clad
But you couldn’t stay somber
You pulled over
Your mind in your heart
I turned my head
before you could start again
again..

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Four weeks and two years had passed
when I went walking down Joshua’s path
holding a letter ending in sincere
Because that day, I didn’t crash
but I’d prefer that I had
then maybe I’d forget about that summer
I knelt over
My heart in my soul
and placed that letter
near your bowl
and it reads…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

3 hoods
Sigh No More by Matteo Pontonutti

Drum Solos are Boring by Antonio Raymondo

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a tiresome sound.
It rings hollow.
It’s got no rhythm.
Like your life, meaningless, shallow!

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a terrible din!
You’re an empty vessel,
A pathetic charade.
Like a cheap Hollywood set,
A flimsy facade!

STOP BEATING YOUR OWN DRUM!
I can’t jam with that noise!
You’re like a spoilt child
Who won’t share their toys.
When will you stop beating your own drum?
Hasn’t anyone told you that……

DRUM SOLOS ARE BORING!!!

pagan
Sometimes When by Rowanmacs

The Master Drinks life’s Elixir by Blake Steele

Eyes wide open, mouth open,
hands grasping and releasing
the Master drinks Life’s elixir
and gurgles his delight.
In his eyes stars shine,
bears waltz, leopards prowl,
a horse kicks up and prances.
Upon the soft pink mountain
he laughs:
he gave up a kingdom for this,
the fame of a thousand worlds,
even the wild love of his heart:
that woman whose will
had brought down castle walls
and slain ten thousand men.
Someone had slapped him
when he came through the door.
He forgave the poor fool instantly
though something in his bones
would not forget it.
Blind fools! Insolent arrogance!
So much to accomplish here
in another alien world.
So much to do
as soon as he
outgrew his nappies.

hat
You can leave your har on by madworld

Re.Joy.Sing by Cynthia Lund Torroll

Welcome Home
to the place
that is inviolate
to the place
where patience waited
graciously…

The timing is meaningless
It happened –
The joining
of a lost soul
to her hearth
Manifestation
over Cacophony –
a wellspring of pure peace
rendering the outer shell
as window dressing
a tiny fraction
of The Life beneath…

She’ll reside there
without fear –
the impostor seen
and still loved
for all her heartfelt efforts
for all her machinations
she thought she knew
aWay but finally saw
she just had to
get out of Her Way…

The storm is over
The time is still
Sensations tickle
her outer form
She can laugh
She can be
She rejoices
and greets
each noble guest
each mystery
each thought cloud
with Her Beingness…

boat
Comfortably Numb by Carol K

Dark Wings of Night by Redqueenself

Dark Wings of Night

Darkness of the heart
from unexpected paths flies in.
The questions start
and the doubts begin,
flickering in the corner of your eye,
whispering a dark and wicked lie.
Soft wings of grey
flutter with the dawn.
The wolf hour floats away
in the brightness of the morn.
Quivering briefly, just in sight,
faith so hard to grasp at night.

girl
Sweet surrender by Strawberries

Forests of the Heart by Sybille Sterk

Bitter-bitter word shards
Cutting my lips to shreds
Dripping black ink snakes
Onto the pristine white paper
Shaped by the solicitous pen
Into syllables and words

Sing-song word notes
Dancing on the page
In undulating conga lines
From the left to right
Called to order by the pen
Into verses and rhymes

Pineapple-scented words
Flavouring the ink
With little bursts of lemon
Golden sunshine days
Forever engraved by the pen
Into minds and hearts

Pen in my hand
I get ready for the day
Exorcising demons
Banishing shadows
Sharing my heart
Baring my soul

Painting mindscapes
Sketching soulscapes
Growing Forests of the Heart

Touched by Layers – challenge winner

Greetings and salutations, fellow art lovers. Recently we asked the Touched by Fire members to participate in a challenge that featured the use of layers through editing or photo manipulation. Dorit‘s “by invitation only” was deserving of the most votes. We congratulate this featured member and urge you to visit her profile on RedBubble.

Features for January 16, 2011

Sometimes life isn’t always easy.  At times, I struggle with bouts of anxiety.  For this week’s features, I decided to explore the darker side of human emotion.


The Daemon Within me. by darkvampire

Practicing Laws of Humility
I didn’t have the presence to come to the light,
My heart was broken,
I was all alone,
And I had a good reason to remain out of sight.

She wanted so badly to meet me and see my face,
I was not born normal,
My delivery had not gone well,
And my birth had been a miracle with help from his Grace.

Everyone ignored my friendship and I grew up a lonely man,
Many threw stones at me to stay away,
No one made it a point to hear my voice,
And for many years hence I’ve toiled with it as I’m doing the best I can.

Parents had me secluded to avoid traffic snarls and their cruelty,
Adults and their children laughed at me,
Even disfigured eyes looked away,
And public schools and private ones practiced laws of humility.

by: oscarelizondo


don’t go out alone by vampvamp

for anesthesia to the crimson vows
windswept humbled walls
knees knotted and red
all from the hem of snow
where a landline is almost suffocating
behind a helm of stars

collectors call
and emily is wondering the halls
as she has done
in every one of my hermit homes
a quiet thistle among her ring of keys
for doors yet to be locked

in the basement
i have broken through concrete
with a mixture of tears
and sweat
and skin ax
following a flood
behind a star whistle
asking me to turn around
and reach

how could they who shine so bright
be so blind to the few who know
their home

upstairs emily’s stocking feet shuffle
across cheap linoleum floors
ignoring the one door
i have asked never to be opened

and on the hill
a car bomb
is suffocating
underneath stumbling bricks

i am still in the basement
having lost my urge
for a peaceful fix

for a blade of grass
for an eraser
or solitude
as i dig
and wipe
earth torn knuckles
across my sweating cheek
all for an indescribable something
deeper than foundation
far into dirt, and worms, and teeming
loam -soft and rough and wild
alive of snow and before
of now and beyond

each inch
a different layer
or crust
changing how i hum
how digging deeper
at a crawl
a firefly at the attic window
gives emily a momentary fix
a pause in her shuffling
at the exact moment
i find a black earth pearl
to shine my palms
a rare earth metal
to cut my roots
so i can dive off the cliff
of magma
erasing all the lifelines
and falling into
song

© by: erich biemer


Comfort within the emptiness… by Kieran O’Connor

Inner Ugliness

I feel ugly
inside
and outside growing itchy
a new layer of nervousness
showing up
on each new pink patch of skin.

All I wanted
was to be
honest with you.
But you took my index finger
and twisted it towards your frame.

Your friendship meant
more than you are now tall,
more than the lust
you feel for your secret
and more than I feel small.

Little by little
I scratch at the surface.

by: lovelyrita


you silvery veins…fell apart on the floor like shattered glass by Rebecca Tun

Solitary Symphony
Symphony of thought
serenades as temperature rises.

Sweltering heat beads sweat
on my upper lip.

Essence of you in my mind tonight
brings forth the beast.

You’re not here to sooth the savage.

I create music with these thoughts…
…your scent,
…your sway,
…your devilishly evil tease.

You take me to this place
where I lose control and
lose myself in your melody.

Symphonic masterpiece
I conduct in your honor.
First slow and steady as
you flood my head with visions…
…the way you move,
…the way you look,
…the way you think.

You set me on fire.

Tonight I make love to
yesterday’s memory.
I throw in some tomorrows and
savor the feeling…that
first second when
light of day disappears and
bursts of soft sweet warmth
shoot through me.

I celebrate you and how
you fill my ears
with that sound you make
when first I enter.

You turn my blood to lava burning in my veins.

Tempo rises,
Allegro to Vivacissimo,
…Crescendo
…Crescendo
…Crescendo
Deep bass pitch erupts into
grand finale.

I can feel you…
I can feel you…
I can feel you…

I
…….Love
………………..You

You leave me breathless, even when you’re not here.

by: Cassidy JK


What you really are by Jessica Walker

Opiate
Beyond the borders of
silent comprehension
lie illusions of emotion
deeply embedded in a
fleshy soul triumphantly
ruled by an ever hungry heart
in stark contradiction to ominous
predictions of a weary lonely mind
when once again delirium seeps
through cracks in armor to offer
renewed ecstasy, fervent pain
delivered in syrupy concoctions
still craving the devil’s sweet poison
hallowed hallucinations of love
a mighty drug, all the same

by: AnniG


A Liable Obstruction by David Mowbray

Fragments
Plucking hearts on worn guitar strings,
I play out of tune and sing
E minor songs
That will never reach your ears.

There is comfort in my tears,
They build in my eyes
But are seen through yours,
And across submarine static
The phone line cries.

We hold fragments
Of each other,
Glimpses into our lives.
This is how we survive
Since we could never be less than lovers.

Disappearing pens leak your heart
Onto pages I’ll never see,
Pieces of your life I can’t touch
But I can read.

by: Tycatz

I am by Drew Trotter

It has been a while since I have posted other than my feature week. Thanks to Drew Trotter, I was completely inspired this evening, thinking about life, all that is, who I am, who we are, and how expansive human beings can be. Thank you, Drew, for giving a little spark to my internal fire.

I am

I am
a myriad of lives
in protest and ecstasy
swimming through new sources and dead ends
In excited, mutable advance
I move in my multitude,
one of the many of my masses.
Not deliberate as seasons change,
but a part of this whole
whirling and convoluted cohesion
forever in flux and dissolution, an endless dance
of revelry in mystery
I move quicksilver lucid dream
born in the wake of earth’s sleep
I double helix from gapped fissure, open wound
of primal mind’s breathing being
I am what I am becoming
more austere and less made
I paint the primal, my pictures and stories,
inflections of the sublime, illuminate the void
In a masquerade of images
etched into the circular curvature
of the communal psych-
An alchemical script, a map of lore
That is the allure, an infinite unfurling
Of mystical moment timeless in space, yet rooted
in the body, blood and heart of being…..

Features for the week of January 9, 2011 (part 2)

In continuance of this weeks features, please enjoy the final six pieces of amazingly inspirational pieces.

A very inspiring piece about what happens when we let go of our inner child. Do adults really have to give up on their dreams, stop drawing doodles, stop pretending to be a princess waiting for her prince (or the prince waiting to rescue her)? I personally don’t want to grow up, but in any case I love Suzzie’s collage, even if she has grown up.

Set my Spirit Free by Suzzie

I really love this piece by miss wildwomenlove that talks about the art of giving of yourself, from a woman’s perspective. I loved how it touched on the feeling that so many of us have felt, of being overwhelmed, of having too much to give and not enough ‘get’, matched with the gentle reminder that we do have power in how things play out. It’s up to ourselves to make sure that we see the beauty and worth in ourselves, and then demand that from others. I found this a very empowering piece.

Selfish footsteps by wildwomenlove

As the Earth turns

so many women
dancing around tables
bringing offerings
of food and love
gifting of their nurture

selflessly

So many faces
smiling and laughing
biting of the apple of Eve
with no more
than a conversational pause

Faceless, armful giving
from breasts
filled with hearts
of abundance
and joy

And if never a word spoken
to fill an ear
or a heart space
with thanks
or gratitude

even well springs
can run dry…

And arms once sought
hang limply
at ones sides
in forsaken
abandonment

True selflessness
comes from a place of fullness
and self worth
where selfish footsteps have taken care
of the Goddess Spirit within

As the Earth turns

i see so many women
spent
and
so many others
satiated

Joy comes
from the gifting
and receiving
to ones self
and others

Don’t let
your mirror be faceless
your beauty
resides
in your heart

© wildwomenlove poetry
29.12.10

This poem by Alondra is a crushingly painful poem. Each word has melancholy and sadness written throughout. Even as I read the desperation in the daughters voice at the end, it left me acknowledging how liberating it must be to be at the place inside yourself where you can get these kind of memories out of your system. This piece definitely left a mark on my soul, and a longing for something I can’t put my finger on yet.

Mother. by Alondra Blick

She held me
like she wanted time to suffer.
Like she wanted
to return us both to creation.
And her skin was musty
with old boyfriends
and from new ones
whose names
I never learned.
I remember that night
at the apartment,
the night the pipes burst,
because in Canada
we have the long cold hours,
and because that was the night
Joseph never made it home
from the office.
And when it snowed,
crystalised flecks
stacked high,
I always thought of Russia,
of paper dolls
folded inside foreign skirts,
and of that night
she told me something
I can’t now recall.
She said it
when the fire burned low,
like an offering
of the flesh,
and I said Yes Mamma
Love me Mamma.

This magnificent piece of work is not only art, but also a tribute to the memory of the artists lovely daughter. I love the way she paints her so beautiful, so alive, vibrant, and happy.This is how we should all be remembered, with tenderness and grace.

Tender Regard / A Pillanat by Mariska

The artists words underneath the painting says it all to me.

Heal my scar by artsmitten

you write destinies …

your mercy is my salvation

chose stones for yourself

and placed heart in humans….
…………………….

( based on an ancient hindu mythology epic
….)

…………………………….

I would not find the burning domes and sands…
Where reigns the sun, nor dare the deadly snows
Nor seek in mountains dark the hidden lands

But where they bloom those flowers fair…….
In what air or land they grow
What words beyond the world I heard
If you would seek for know

if silent prayers are ever answered …

In just a few lines this beautiful poet reminded us how fleeting things are; life, joy, even memories. The beautiful things we experience can be like twinkles of light from a star a thousand lifetimes away.. leaving us wondering if we really ever saw it in the first place.

quivering sunlight from the belly by Kristin Reynolds

There is a risk
when the music comes,
of becoming

as lost as a moment seen
within
the heart of the eyes.

The divine discovery
of this seeing:

nothing this beautiful can be held.

That the whole of the world
you have kissed
in a moment

to be

beautifully
perfectly

gone.

© Kristin Reynolds 1 9 2011

Congratulations to all the writers and artists that grace the pages of this blog. Happy New Year to everyone, and looking forward to making 2011 even brighter, more inspirational, and uplifting to us all.

Features for the week of January 9, 2011 (part 1)

This weeks features were quite an emotional journey for me. I have been quite disconnected from my blog and art for the last few months due to going back into the secular world. It was such a thrill to anchor myself down and grow some roots back into the places my soul feels most comfortable. Having gone through the end of a year (contemplative moments) and starting a new year (getting my goal-face on) I’ve had so much to think about within my own self. I was really attracted to pieces that, in one way or another, were little nuggets of self-healing. The journey crosses many faces; acceptance of what is.. living in the moment.. finding your wings… letting go.. finding something deep inside yourself.

Because of the beauty of these pieces, I decided to split the features up into two blogs this week to allow them more personal attention than they may receive as one big post. I hope that you, like me, enjoy and feel more at peace once you behold these treasures.

Pairing an intimate portrait of a passionate moment with numbness one can feel from layers of pain is not an easy task. Yet greeneyedlady did it so well she I felt the stab of her pen on my insides, and left me feeling a bit intoxicated from the rush of emotion coupled with the flavor of the wine she left on my tongue.

your touch and the wine, my love by greeneyedlady

there is not enough wine, my love
to help me forget all that we have done
you said, get on top of me
and i always do as you say
you said, move a little bit, that’s it
slide your hips this way
you said, now tell me what you feel
and as you flesh me out from the inside
i would acquiesce to your demand
but the fucking numbness always gets in my way
you demand words
and an unintentional moan is all i can utter
words require comprehension
and your touch and the wine, my love
have taken all the words away

Tracey’s dreamy soul rushed over me in drips of blueness and whimsy. I was swept up like a spanish butterfly in the romance of it all. This piece has yummy all over it. It reminded me that it’s so good to be a dreamy girl that still believes in a fairy tale love.

Just the sweetest daydream… by Tracey Mac

This piece of work is full symbols of energy, emotions, and life. Every detail is perfection; the more I look at it the more goodies I find. Originally it was the color scheme that drew me to it, but once I saw the hidden elements, the way they all flowed together into one living moment, that is when I was able to appreciate in fullness the beauty of his message.

All is the Whole by Wojtek Kowalski

This melodic piece starts off asking some very important questions about human emotions. I loved the way the piece flowed forward like a gentle river to a poignant end. There is nothing like the feeling of letting go of negative feelings that we harbor inside of us, and SFlora did a brilliant job recreating that in true poetry fashion.

Leting go by SFlora

The ‘reason’ of feeling?
The ‘logic’ of the heart?
Boiling blood, shivering screams
And shouts,
What on earth is all this about?
Perhaps, the flowering of feeling
Through harmonies of the heart
From the minds cell of dark
Birth bursts of light
At the eve of dawn
The song of the birds give flight
To the hearts eyes.
But at the eve of the river
My joints begin to tremble and quiver
Moving against the beat
To force the slow
Resting its pull,
Its current and flow
Hovering at the humming edge
In the fear of letting go, of it all
Scrambling through a belly of invisible shawls
Gasping to free fall

KarenSue is the kind of writer that I get addicted to. I can never read enough of her beautiful scribblings. This piece I found to be very pertinent and evocative and something that many have found relative. What an intriguing way to write about the complications with our own self.

Woman without a face by ArcadiaTempest

Woman without a face
You follow me
I smell the urgency of you
Rancor in the wind

Selfish footprints dripping from your feet
You pester me
I brushed against your rash welted with your wanting
Eyes burning into the backs of the leaving

This world forgets you as often as it should
Perfuming the pavements sullied with your scent
Woman without a face nursing your crushed mirror

Faceless one I see your invisibility
Women without a face conversation
Take these words and draw yourself expression
Beautiful in being nothing like anyone

Oh the power of healing. The moments where we can release and let go the negative things that pull us down are like magical moments of flight. Such peace can be found, like breathing for the first time. This piece made me yearn for one of those moments again, and brought me back to practicing meditation as a way to let my soul fly again. Thank you for that, Lisa.

Released… by LisaMM

This is only half of the journey I took this week. Please come back for the second half of this weeks features later in the week. In the meantime, be with peace and love.

Pj Djennel, aka ShadowDancer

Strange looking pieces of information… about you

Janis Zroback is an artist that shares a lot of very insightful and useful articles. I share with you one of her latest journals regarding Canadian artist Moshe Mikanovsky and QR codes. Here in Guatemala, during a collective exhibit, I experienced the use of these codes applied to art. I still don’t know what to make of them, but I’ll let you make your own mind.

First Features of 2011 – 02/01/2011

Here are the first features of the year. It is always a joy to do the features for Touched by Fire – there is so much interesting art and writing that the difficulty is deciding what not to include.

I am starting this journey off with a little house, an unusual house in a setting that seems to to draw you in.

SHELL HOUSE by © KEIT

SHELL HOUSE by © KEIT

And since the house looked like something from a fairytale it naturally lead me to this fantastic poem…

No Fairytale Ending by © kat86

What happens when you spend your whole life
Thinking you’re the ugly duckling who turns into a swan
Then you realise there is no fairy tale ending
and the hope you had is gone.

What happens when prince charming finds your slipper
But your foot is just too big
The frog you kissed goes missing
and your pumpkin turns out wrong.

Just because you dont love your reflection
Doesn’t mean the clouds will always rule
Look beyond the magic carpet, the jokers not always a fool
Don’t play the damsel, the world has enough distress

Heroes save your heart, you’ll have to do the rest.

In the neverending story of this thing that we call life
Your time is just beginning, don’t end it with a knife.
Just put on your overalls, wipe off the cinder ash
Finish your chores, steal from the chocolate stash.

Get your dress ready, dance with your bestfriend
Be home by midnight
A curfew is not the end.

There’s something special about this image. You’re not sure if she’s fleeing or running towards something. I like a bit of mystery.

...come Closer…...... by © CORA D. MITCHELL

...come Closer…...... by © CORA D. MITCHELL

Assuming that she was running towards something, I wondered if it might be the new year and all the things that might be on their way.

hello new day by © hollyann

the start
of the new three six five
lucky to be alive
and hovering on this new
extension
the light looks clean
and showing me out
of the tunnel

i am moving towards
the next horizon
and when things
feel an uncomfortable
fit
i twist and turn
until the landscape
bends
making amends
for the new seeds
and the new branches
poking through
the dirt

we are on this journey
together
your hand in mine
after all this time
we take the road
together
the road
less travelled by
mostly gravel
but leading to
the open sea

with sails unfurled
and winds caught up
we move across the
white capped waves
with telescope to eye
looking for first sight
of land

But life’s not always gentle and there might be some dark days ahead…

Dark Days by © Rebecca Tun

Dark Days by © Rebecca Tun

BUT there is always hope…

Adrift by © AnniG

Tonight I cast my sins, fears, tumultuous thoughts
upon the vast inky waters of this bottomless ocean
sending them to drift along the turbulent raging tides
to wash up upon your pristine sundrenched shore
buried on a coastal beach of bleached salty sand
to shrivel under the sweltering gaze of unrelenting
sun

perhaps you will hear the primal wails in sheer agony
perhaps you will pick and weigh them in your palm
perhaps you will rescue, cleanse, hold them close
perhaps you will breathe new life in purification
perhaps, you may even learn to live with them
perhaps you could learn to love this part of
me

maybe the new year will bring release
maybe it will come in time to let go
maybe I will finally be set free to
be

I loved this image for the focus on what’s important and the hope it makes me feel.

H-K264 by © hsien-ku

H-K264 by © hsien-ku

And the next poem seems to encapsulate all that I felt when I looked at the picture.

Circumnavigation by © Kristin Reynolds

It was dark when the light came
like a memory
like a firefly
like a nerve—

like the last of the fallen angels;
like the most beautiful thought
tossed off a bridge
in the quiet
and absolute still

of stars making waves below.

I find myself in this madness,
shaded and sharp
as a moment of glory;

curved
like the palm
of the moon;

two steps behind
never-ending.

I can’t say I was surprised
when the whistle blew
my hair back
like wheat in a gale—

or when the gods
poured down like
slow golden rain

from the crown
to the sea
to the wind;

to life growing seeds for angels

to will
to union
to root—

gifts of the being alone;

or when dawn
washed through
like infinite hands

anointing
my shroud
with the currency
of a perfectly fluted memory

with which
to see
in the dark

an arc
of bodiless
gold.

This next image impressed me with its composition as well as the feelings it evoked.

Wings of Desire IV – II When No One Comes by © Darren Vannoy

Wings of Desire IV – II When No One Comes by © Darren Vannoy

The next fabulous poem makes the perfect companion with its thoughtful whimsy.

WHEN WE SLEEP by © Kirrill D’Kainn

When midnight points to the moon
With the voice of wolfs
And when all winds motion bloom

The night … she replies

In the realm of fragrant foliage
Smooth are the sounds of shadows

Flights of silver owls feeding
In fashion of rose-mooned pearls
And the scent of carrion

A little true twisted crescent
The humour of this quintessence
Shift in daydreams of desire … and

The night … she replies

With melodies
That gather the spirits of rain … and
Pain of lightning struck twice

Strange and dying winds
Where desolation
Runs in rivers of cold gray sleep

End

However I wanted to end these first features of the year on a hopeful note and this image seemed to show me all the little tendrils of hope for the year just started.

Meditation of Green by © linaji

Meditation of Green by © linaji

May we indeed “step gracefully” through the coming year.

Doors of Life…. by © SimplyRed

Stained with life’s destiny
solidly standing
but gently framed
the doors of time
always slightly ajar
are closing fast

cautiously peering outwards
a gentle nudge of passage
the door creaks softly
hinges hung with peril…..
on threadbare scent of cedar

hold tight to my forever key
unlocking…
each knot of wood…
forged in place

my right of passage
peering along time aging corridors
onwards to the rapid hands of time
forever taunting….
slow the hands on the clock

please set them free
I want to stay in the real life
so many more memories
I want to take with me

realisations of harshness
tightening hinges
too young to surrender,
more things to remember
wishes sliding through key holes
close not my solid cedar door
instead …..
knock gently
and wipe your feet
softly ….
as we step gracefully
through life

I hope your enjoy the features and have a very happy New Year.