Features for week of August 29, 2011

Barely There by lroof

You don’t make sense, why should i? by DominicSavio

if i
bathe Your
feet
in
tears
will You call me Mary and
remember my
face?
will you embrace me
if I left
my
limbs
in the past?
can
You
stretch out my love
like
elastic to make it
last?
will
You touch me because i dance?
[am i lego
because You always
take me
apart
and put me back
together
again
but You said
this isn’t a coincidence
when
i begged You
“please
no more coincidences
i just need
to
heal”]

You Will Hinder My Growth No More Love… by Christina Rodriguez

Oddly pertinent gibberish by redolentquill

I live hoping,
one day to see-
the world bursting
out, in cackling poetry.
Bizarre dreams !?
Logic pockets
were ever undone at seams…
Still pure, still unsure!
And certainly finding yin!

Horses galloping over clouds
across fields of carrots
and cheeky tomatoes
and splat, I end
gooey-kneed, elbowing
pulpy tomatoes, blowing
steam off my nose-
and yet I’m a rose!
You’ll baptize me ever again-
the golden bud flower grain.

I come noiselessly washing
down every terrain-
water and rain
never slain, never slain!
Alone, the drops close on me
enclose me in a globe, show me
the meaning of chills-cold-within
the forming of pearls-old-akin.

Occupied or deserted,
I am but space!
Time, how do you
manage to coil
infinitely around
me, telling me at
every bend, that
you are new, and
that ‘its’ you!

outcast by strawberries

Coin Tale by Arcadia Tempest

A compliment from a stranger is that unverified hello that contains the unknown.
I saw her today.
I’m the stranger and she’s the other stranger with our feet sweeping the same track most mornings.
The track is our unlikely cement match maker.
She first caught my attention by her presence.
Some people can stand in a way that even from the back you know they brim with a modest self assurance, a tidy kind of confidence.
I love it when I see the picture from a back view.

Her hair intrigues and conjures lovely thoughts.
I’d like to hold a few strands of her hair and let the sun bring out the hidden tints but it’s also not a comfortable aspiration.
My hesitation comes with my usual indignant pause that I’m once again proving I’m not like the others that gather each morning as we wait for that over zealous decibel rated school bell to ring.

This morning my words had formed to speak to her about her beautiful red hair but instead I gulped inwards and my resolve fell under my shoes and I scuttled away.
Then there it was, I looked back right into her face and it hit me ….I realized I didn’t want to know her face.
There was no connection to the front of her, I only wanted to speak my words in my head to the back of her.
I want this relationship to be a one sided coin.
I know I will enjoy our next conversation when she walks ahead of me in that steady language of easy east going west step.
Ohh…I hope she steps into the sunlight for me.

© K S Hardy 2011

Bruise by Glitterfest

regrets by Nathan Emery

the unrest in my heart
to hear your voice
and feel your lips and skin
will not subside.
i miss you,
though it’s been barely a week
but your eyes
and voice still haunt me.
the memories,
are so amazing;
the concrete jungle and the canopy
of glass and brick
stretching so far above us,
but not above our hearts.
i think i love you…
and it terrifies me
because maybe it’s just what you were,
and not what you are,
but it’s love all the same.
how i wish,
to see you tonight,
and every other night after
holding my hand
and holding my heart.
i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t hard
to leave you 500 miles
behind.

Clipped by Matteo Pontonutti

i breathe in Red by Greeneyedlady

i hear her whisper
how old is this tight place
drawn over your heart?
it is as old as Forever, i reply

i feel lightheaded
the air is hot now and heavy
with a moisture that will not fall
still crystalline tears
scratch their way down my face
waves of arid cries that once could die
in my throat
threatening, threatening

my body burns and tingles
it’s energy glowing Red
weaving around my edges
it pounds across my head
and breaks away
i breathe in Red
i push angry fire out
at least that little bit escapes
i hear the rest of it clamoring
waiting enviously to follow

Angry Monsters by Barbara Zuzevich

remember that, always. by Alondra Blick

Your eyes open slowly
and once again
I am on a long road
watching the dawn
ache across that pale
sky.
We are quiet
enough
to hear the sparrows
rise miles off
in the distance
and the lightness
is unbearable.
It is the small things
that will return
to you.
Remember that
always.
The smell of thunder
when you lifted your hand
past me
to light a cigarette.
The perfect sorrow
of sadness and smoke.
As we drive,
the sun beats from
behind the blur of
the trees
and the skyline
and I think,
what a strange beauty
it is
that from the moment
we met
the world has seemed to
rush by
with no form.
Just a wash of colours
and changing light
through your open
car window.

Touched by Fire – Features for the week of August 7, 2011

Hi everyone, a few days ago I chose this week’s features. An interesting mix of drama, visual metaphors, sensibility and overall statements. Please congratulate all the wonderful and talented artists. Duffboy

 

“its paradox” by robinellenlucas

ever emerging
all sides
of you

choose the
one in your now
who is
in between
your dark night
your early dawn

rising
because it knows
what to do
…next

is it the
mystery
u n f o l d i n g
its view
its paradox
that chooses
without limits
to protect you?

© r.e.l. 7/20/11

“Your spirit looks a lot like the fog but boy do I know the difference” by DominicSavio

Oh God
Your
spirit
in
vades
my
person
hood
like a
spiral
around
my
spine and
You
wrap
around
my
spirit
man
like a choker
with black
ribbon
and
precious
gems
like
replicas
of
Your eyes
and I
am
ice
without
You.

“The Loop” by RC deWinter

It does no good to say “Forget,”
what is experienced burns in the brain.
It does no good to say “Move on,”
what is within simply follows along.
And not looking back doesn’t alter
the past or wipe away memories, feelings, intent.
If buried, these things resurrect
doggedly as surely as some claim Christ rose from the tomb.
But they appear not miraculously
restored but as ragged skeletons clothed with shreds of flesh,
now grinning, exhibiting their
fragile framework for what it ever was –
a wish, a hope, a dream, a curse –
to accompany silently down all the years
the unfortunate pilgrim who
struggles to make sense of misplaced affection,
unfounded trust, perception
colored by desire and losses that could not be cut,
but must be paid for again
and again with the rising and setting of the
eternal sun.

© 2011 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

“inVisible” by wildwomenlove

As a receptacle for your rape and pillage
i remain invisible
to your lost sense of humanity

As a middle child to the nuclear family
i remain invisible
to your parental nurture

As a daughter to women who cherish men
i remain invisible
to your favouritism

As you label me a person with some kind of incapacity
my achievements remain invisible
to your boxed-in concepts

As an artist in a world motivated by greed
i remain invisible
to your economic rationalism

As a child in a world of responsibility
my childlike wisdoms remain invisible
as they fall upon deaf ears

As a mother waiting tables of bloodline
i remain invisible
to your gratitude and recognition of value

As aging attempts to put all my eggs in one basket
i become invisible
in a society which romanticizes youth

The flame of my Self burns brightly
whether it is seen by others or not
it lights my way

on my death bed I will meet my Self
and all shall be visible
Once and for all

Blessed be

© wildwomenlove poetry

 

“Uncontrollablefailure” by Nathan Emery

She
fell down so far,
out of my reach
but not out of my sight.
I watched her
crash and burn
in the bottom of a bottle of crown
and I tried to reach down
but she didn’t even look up
to see my expression;
the red in my eyes.
I didn’t want to let her go
but she was never
really in my grasp.
So maybe I’m the one that fell;
into a bottle of vodka and vicoden,
to drown her out
to drown the world out…
to drown me out.
She split and spilt in every direction
except the one I was standing in;
just trying to catch her,
trying to clean her up
but missing every single drop.

“lay down now, little sister” by greeneyedlady

i still see him
walking up and down the darkened street
he held a shotgun in his hands
he held our lives as he always had
and two faces too little to be seen
were peeking over the edge of the windowsill
and i was whispering hollow words
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans
and for the fear he brought down
a father’s raucous shouts and a mother’s terrified cries
shatter the quiet of the night
would he shoot the gun?
she knew very well he might
and she waited
for the night to edge a little toward the light
and when the neighbors said settle down
or we’re calling the police, man
i thought
they’ll take you in and dry you out
and i hope you never get out of the can!
but for any of you who have ever tried
to reason with a wickedly drunken man
well, you know the decision to put the gun down
wasn’t made out of love at all
he just stepped wrong took a little fall
and it dropped from his unsteady hands….
now i don’t know how we ever did it
how we managed to pretend it never happened
our eyes would meet but we’d just look away
and two faces, too little to understand
but never too old to pretend
to be sleeping
in their beds
in that house
in the way that only scared little kids can
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans…

Artemis by Lynnette Shelley

End by Matteo Pontonutti

White Light by Lissie Rustage

Porcine by Lynnette Shelley

The Pecking Order by Glitterfest

4 Eyes by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne

Features for the week of 7/17/11

Dreamy…neurotic…eerie. Enjoy =)

[ tren de vise ] by Irina & Silviu Szekely

Goodnight by ajgosling

Crawl Away
The Red runs all down your arms, from the mess where your fingertips used to be, to the slices on your palms, to the grazes on your forearms. There are only two things going through your mind.
One, get somewhere small, dark and safe.
Two, how good The Red feels now that it’s all over you again.
You pull yourself to somewhere dark and safe, where the little shadow boy inside you comes out again, and his tears mix with The Red and you take your grief out on the thinning crystal box of your mind.
A Boy called Star

a symptom of neurotic insecurity by strawberries

The Collector II
People placed just so
Against a wall
Or in a corner
Ready to be moved
At a moment’s whim
A world filled with
Statues, puppets
A shadow play
Everything stays
Monochrome
A game
A toy train
Going round
Round in circles
Choo-choo
A one-way street
No connection
Just a need
Born from the want
To belong
Reviewed with
A smug smile
A pleased grin
A blindfold
Glued to the face
Until the day
The light goes off
The ceiling comes down
The walls fall apart
Brick by brick
No safety net
All is still
All is quiet
No reply
No answer
The blindfold slips
Realisation hits
The world
Has moved on
Somewhere else
Sybille Sterk

Waiting to Hatch by Matteo Pontonutti

Existence
This mound of earth
No longer an island home for thousands,
Surrounded by the sea
The sea that gently, but insistently
Lashes against it sides
Eating away at it until it is no more
And no one remembers
If it ever existed here
And I,
Just like the mound of earth
My body tugged at
By death
Gently, but insistently,
Firmly,
Until I am no more
And no one remembers,
If I ever existed here.
Paul (Quixote) Alleyn

Midnight at La Fenice by AngiandSilas

States of Known Depression
Circular characters darken the front of the stand alone train
Following trails of thought across tracks in the deep winters rain
Cold and lonely existence through states of known depression
Memories infest and embed like maggots manifest repression
Swatting the fly on the wall, ending life with no thought
Stains of blood creep down, infectious to the mind you caught
In the open room where nothing is there, walls washed white
All known desires fade, adrenaline kicks in, fight or flight?
Question the means and purposes of the dissonant realms
Incoherent dispiriting attacks devastate and overwhelm
What is the purpose?
Why does one wish to acquire happiness?
A useless yet desirable state
Intense joy a depressive learns to dispossess
As we constantly think about our inevitable fate
Death
A taboo to talk but an act we do alone
In our own time, without rational choice
Screaming at loved ones in angry tones
The ones who look forward are the ones that constantly look back…
Regretful people who wanted a different course through life
Wishing to change decisions and cut old journeys with a knife
Envying the people who are happy and ignorant
Ones with minds free of impotence
Depression an illness that catches the many
Locking themselves in, throwing away the key
Offer a hand, be willing to see
That depression is an illness, and depression caught me.
HamperRefuser

The Waning Phase of The Man in The Moon by Laughing Bones

Psychic in Cyberspace
“I see a man mistakenly
in love with a computer,
with its sublimely neutral
world of details blooming
bountiful in its infinitely
trivial vitality, and he is
probing manfully for that
one essential but improbable
fact, that microscopic
mechanism throbbing
sweetly somewhere out
in the exponentially,
increasingly populous
night between the stars –
or the atoms – but the
virtual universe has such
surface-tension shimmering
iridescent all over the
theoretically expanding bubble
… bursting someday… so
hurry, hurry and locate
and identify it before she
can flower and fruit and
give birth to the competition.”
nancyames

 
All I Ever Wanted Was Your Heart by ewanthot

Features for the week of May 15, 2011- Apocalyptic Industrialization

For this week’s features I tried to deviate from the norm. I wanted to explore a darker world…a world plagued by disaster and uncertainty.

Insult to Injury by Athenawp

I bring down
my inked weapon
and paint out my blood
on paper instead of skin.

I bring down
some of my pain
but it always ends
coming back like a popped cork.

I bring down
tip to paper
I can only hope
that my words will not choke me
War by lovelyrita

Siblings by Richard Buchanan II

It’s got a hold on me
It’s Way, too late
The box has been opened
Tentacles have taken root
In One Mind
I dare you
To try
To make me
Believe
Your lies
(Torture, as you well Might)
Come a little closer
I’ll open your jugular
And your eyes
The essence of creation
Exists within me
As does the essence
Of annihilation
Come
A little closer
It’s Time
The Idea has come
To Mind
We Are
Form Alive
Time is ending
Transform to survive
We are not what they tell us
Shopping and killing machines
Time has come, full Circle
It’s time, too a wake
Enter critical mass
Trigger massive flux
Exponential, explosion of
Healing Alive
Darkness creating
Light
The Idea of Life
Has arrived
In Time
(Past Due Humanity)
Hurry, Do.
IDEA by dab

Feel Good by Matteo Pontonutti

Perched on his chair, doused in redolence, the man wept a tear.
Tied down by the strains of the outer world, rejected by society. Stuck in an enclosed hole, a ladder out of reach. Walking around the dirt, a microcosm of mind. Stared up at the light, wishing for a rope to be thrown.
A glimmer of hope, when an object dropped down. A recognisable woman falling from above. Her feet stopped before the floor, the wished for rope stopping in flight.
A box of faith, Attempting to be opened. The padlock could not be picked, his key would not fit. He slapped on his scent on once more.
The incarceration of the man, wishing to insinuate incineration,was characterised by a guilty life. Punishing himself for pain he inflicted.
He found a new box, one to end the misery. The key was a perfect match, which was able to light the way.
He struck the box with a stick, enlightening an early discovery of man. Spilling liquid some more, he held the naked flame close.
Thoughts shot around his head, anticipating the end of existence. He wept a tear once more.
In a wall of hell, a deathly fire, the man went up in flames.
He melted away, like polar ice caps, pollution in his lungs.
To escape the cold depths of life, he ended his life whilst warm. Existence chose to leave him, to get over a pessimal torn.
The Depths of Depressed Fire by HamperRefuser

Eyes~Pool Park Asylum by Josephine Pugh

i dreamt,
i dream of mist, and of us
with eyes.

we scanned the distance,
the flashlight signalled in code

and moving
t’ward the entrance
where the known fades

we read out loud
‘’little owl’
‘little owl’

turned to face home
but home was gone,

and all that was left
was the off-on-off on.
waking moment by uncleblack

ULTRASOUNDS – HARLOW SPIKE by Roberto Duran

A Front Line Defense Forms
Armored With Autonomous Rule
Havoc Abounds
As The Leader
Remains Silent
With Shields
And Words Like Spears
Tailgating and Name Calling
All Who Lament

A Demand
For Peace Through Silence
As A Return To How It Used To Be

‘If You Don’t Like It, Don’t Look At It’
Advices The Sensitive Ones
Is Your Altruistic Philosophy
To Be Applied Universally
Should An Atrocity Be Done In Your Name
Shall We Not Look
When Harm Is Thrown Your Way?

A Tsunami Has Rolled Through
Your Innocent Paradise
I Hope There Is Enough
Air For You To Breathe
While You’ve
Planted Your Head
So Deeply In The Sand
The Debris Builds,
While An Exodus Propels
The Front Line Defense Cheers Their Departure
Consistently Lowering The Morale
Of The Whole Community

Those With Concern Cry
As The Integrity Of Their Home
Is Put In Jeopardy
The Armored Guards
Cleverly Blanket Them All
Under The Same
Trifling Umbrella
‘Trouble Makers
With Their Own Agendas’..

Over Four Years
With Chronic
Debilitating Pain
Surviving ..
Through A Pitiful
Disability Wage
I de-List My Art For Sale
Unwilling To Compromise
My Principles
Toward Humanity
Personal Agenda………………. ?
You Who Points Your Finger
With Closed Eyes And
Shallow Thought
Bite Your Tongue

An Idealist,
At Times Naive
Always Seeking
The Good
In Everyone
Half Expecting
Apologizes ..
But Their Silence
Tells
Otherwise

Thoughtless Generalizations
Defamatory Accusations
Unfounded Conjecture
Sweeping Statements
Sharpened The Sword
Of The Separation
They Bemoan

The Name Calling Defense Team
Demonstrates A Parallel Propensity
Of Those Bigoted And Vile Messages
They Guard

Please Do Continue With Your
Expressions..
As You Only Further Damage
The Rulers Of This Estate
And Inevitably
You Will Bury Yourselves
In Your Own Rhetoric

I Extend
Deep And Sincere
Respect, Love And Gratitude
To Those Who Shared
Open And Civil
Discussions
On Our Different Views
Your Benevolence
Restored My Faith
I Cherish You
And Our Friendship
I Respect Your View,
May It Not Support Mine.

I Also Deeply Respect
All Those Who
Choose To Remain Silent
Whom Also Extend
Respect Toward Me
As I Choose To Speak

The Climate
Of Our Community Debate
A Microcosm
Of The World At Large ..

Those Who Express
Different Viewpoints
But Also Express
Respect And Love
Toward One Another
I THANK YOU
Such Consciously
Chosen Thinking
Will Stop Wars

Not Instigate Them.

My Voice Will Not Be Silenced.
My Voice Will Not Be Silenced by Tatum Wulff

When time stood still by Anne Staub

We Stand Alone by Trish Mistric

Wishlist, a writing challenge

Though the TBF members were so very shy about this challenge (only one work was submitted), we celebrate pauldrobertson‘s Soliloquy, charcoal+chalk, the truth about suicide

 

Soliloquy. Charcoal and white pastel. My former companion, lover and friend, sat for me though she really wanted to go outside and play in the sprinklers.
160×120 cm

She is so still, so still.

The way she sits with such delicacy, perfect and human.

Exquisite… she is so breathtakingly beautiful that it hurts me to look at her.
It makes me ache for her. For her sadness that I know so well; For the scars upon her sweet skin. For her, for her.
For her.
That this moment shall ever have to end.

And here is the truth about suicide, or one of the greatest of truths, one perhaps of the truest.

ah… speak truth and long and exhale hard into the empty hearts the softness of the night

Here.

Here.

I beg some breaths from you. I want your attention for a few minutes. Let me open my heart and my wounds for you.
There are, according to me, four kinds of suicides:

The first suicides I will discuss I will not dwell on. They are the suicides of the very young, and the very foolish. They are also a real component of our contemporary lives. The child or the fool imagines themselves at their own funeral. The absolute nature of what they do is lost to them, and they go blinded and innocent before their own bloody hands. A fool ends.
I can’t help but think as their last heart’s blood drains from their bodies, does it occur to them that they won’t be THERE when everybody is fucking sorry?
“No wait, I…” and breath shudders last. How utterly foolish and tragic. A messy comedy. Another life stolen from us.

I believe that the most common is as a result of a momentary, even if recurring, definitive madness of pain.
I think that… the despair takes us in sudden gulps and sucks the sanity from us; the frail bubble that it is bursts for a bloody but succinct, specifically human succession of moments. Twenty minutes. An hour. Long enough.
The pain… spears and punctures what we are. Our ecstasy of existence, the supremacy of our essential drive to live is swept into the wilding deep by it in savage sudden stabs. The pure violence of it, that something of this scale can even exist within us fills and covers us until that is what we ARE.
Terror is the answer, our reeling cramping minds’ answer. A devastating shudder of fear locks so many into death.
It is not the pain itself. It is that the pain may continue.
It is terror of the pain, you see. That it will not end. That this will go on. The moment cannot be prolonged, for it is untenable. It must be ended. The means are visceral, ancient and brutal.
Because, in the end, so are WE.

TBF Features for the week of April 3, 2011

Greetings and salutations, fellow art and poetry lovers. My picks for this week’s features have a flair for drama, hope and passion.

Lollipop Rain by Keith

The Gift by Matteo Pontonutti

Cross Pollination by Sean Phellan

Take me higher by Kym Slark

Steely anguish by Roger Mann

Lost the second set… by Philip Gaida

New Thing by Soxy Fleming

The cracks have grown large and great chunks fallen out,
so I’m eating to fill the holes in the plaster.
An icy cold wind whistles through sad and lonely
I keep eating – those holes they don’t fill any faster.

The stuff just keeps building up great piles inside there,
the holes in the walls remain gaping wide.
That might be a good thing, it may be that something
new will blow in from beyond the divide.

I can’t hide the inside when cracks are a-forming.
I think I can fill them but then, should I try?
The cracks will keep cracking to make a way inwards,
when the doors are all jammed and the walls, so high.

the walls will all crumble
and pile up as bricks
the chairs will all wobble
and turn into sticks
the wind will keep blowing
both fresh and with sting
and one day, yes one day
there will be a new thing…

june, and you are falling out of love by Alondra Blick

Outside it is june again
I can hear the rain trembling
through canopies of green
and it’s all I can do
to stop myself
from ending it all.
Isn’t that what every poet says?
And who’s more brave
the ones that do,
or the ones who don’t?
Evening weeps in
with the smell of honeysuckle
and warm wine,
and I know all too well
the way your body moves inside me
humming,
and the rain is humming
and the way it all crashes together
is a sad soft love
is sea spray drowning the moon
is an ache for you
and for me,
lost inside ourselves
and the inconsolable mess
that we have made
of each other.

Hero None by ManInTheBox

Hero no, none have I
When head upon pillow I lie
Villains cloaked in yellow green
Camouflage heroes in a dream

Quench thy thirst on acid rain
Deliver not a mortal drain
Bleed you none in shades of red
Feast on flesh unholy bed

Hero no, none for me
Darkness falls it should be thee
Rather know thou art not mine
Echoes through this empty shrine

Into the night feathers fly
Knowing not eye for eye
Let bleeding hearts’ veins be blue
Become not hero untrue

Death of Ophelia by Sarah Bentvelzen

My feigned misery,
My feigned madness
Treason of my love for you,
Dear Ophelia

I be the death of you
Grief-stricken
With sadness;
A disease of my mind

Your violets in vain
For I did not offer
A love to satisfy
Your needs

While your rue
Grows unnoticed
In the broken womb
Of our love

Features 3-13-11

I have to admit that I often pick art to be featured and then try to find writing that fits into some theme with the art. Today I went into the writing first and was a little spooked by all the poetry with the same theme. I am guessing it was the earthquake in Japan that roused peoples emotions. There were many poems on the theme of the earth and our treatment of her. Also Spring is beginning in the Northern hemisphere and it is almost as if you can feel the Earth awakening from her winter sleep. So these are the themes for the features today. The art all shows Earth energies through color and theme and lots of birds because they are returning now. The writing all seems to speak for the Earth herself. Enjoy!

Great Egret by Rosalin

Mother Earth by LisaMeryl

Mother Earth is…

Paint by number
heaven and Earth
swimming in colour

Drowning in tears
consumed and raped
destruction for years

Beauty with grace
land and water
our sacred place

Full of rage
neglected and abused
confined by cage

The human race
past, present, future
time and space

Choking on pollution
blind and helpless
without a solution

Every living creature
great and small
our bountiful teacher

Looking for blame
man and war
a crying shame

Blossoming Tree of Life by Elspeth McLean

There is an earth attached to my feet by Kristin Reynolds

Even when
I lift them up,
there are still invisible roots—
like gum on a shoe
on a day when the sun
is most high

like diamond
elastic violin strings playing
the sweetest song.

Ask the earth,
she will tell you the same:

how we are all long hearts
through the soles of her feet,
eternally bound
and in love,

A love
more precious than fruit

on a planet
full of starving men

who have never
even felt
the sun.

We are dancing,
each day we are
dancing!

at opposite ends
of the same
diorama,

in the space
between a butterfly’s wings
flying in the face
of heaven.

The Robin by Selina Ryles

Fledgling by Hollyann

sing
little thing
your supper’s
on it’s way
from the mouth
of your mother
grubs and snails
to feed your song
and your growing wings

From the (insert color here) sky by Lenny La Rue

It’s Time by cosimopiro

I have roamed this shaking Earth
but for a little while,
walked upon her skin
like scattered dust
and saw the scars
of what we’ve done
and tried to console
Her anguished pain,
but my touch alone
had small reach,
and those I encountered
who felt the same
was not enough
to embrace Her girth.
So in my helplessness
I withdrew
to a cave of my making
and found little comfort
in solitude
and lost my way.
So,
I awake now
with pleading words,
reach out
to those who care
and feel the same,
let’s take each other’s timid hands
and link
in one purpose,
to cradle this living world
in love’s ultimate light
for the One who has given
more than She can bear.

The Three Graces by Cynthia Lund Torrell

The Flaming Hosts of Gaia by Blake Steele

We are all part of a wild, flaming company
holding the Earth
like a pearl in our translucent hands,
in our radiantly loving hearts.
We are dreamers within the Dream
of the Wide Awake One,
the Wide Open One,
in whose eyes of beauty
we roam through unseen beauty
created by the Beauty
in the act of seeing Beauty.
These truths are alive
just beyond time and space
— right now, right here —
in the tiny spaces
between bird feathers
between atoms,
between quarks,
down in the high
open empty space
of Pure Singing Light
flooding everything.

Black eyed angel by Scott Black

The Angel Blue by Mohawk Man

3-11-10 @11:23am

the angel blue
for whom does she weep
for souls lost to
eternal sleep
or for the homeless
without a bed
or the poor mother’s
children that go unfed
do her tears wash the blood
caused by mans lust and greed
from the hands
of the monsters
that created this need
or will they cleanse humanity
of all of it’s ills
like crack, and dope,
and meth and pills
perhaps she cries
because the damage is done
and the battle is over
and evil has won

Features for week of February 13, 2011

e,g,b,d,f by clancy214

every good boy does fine
things to a good girl.

2 cent notebook full
of scribbles and eraser marks
words and pauses / swirling around
looking for each other.

must have perfect pen to continue

Aahhh… by 8upchef

“Relax” she said
Statuesque Redhead
Leather strap tightening
Wrists bound

Dreamt this once
Without the orderlies
Without the pain
Without the shaking

Brunette steps up
Huge needle
“Tiny little pinch…
Enjoy the ride!”

LIAR
Needle tearing skin
Targeting my heart
I feel every millimeter

Then the meds
The cold, liguid stream
Pushing into me
cc after icy cc

Heating slowly in my core
Flowing outward
Slow, warm lava
Carrying relief

My veins swell with it
Each muscle tingles
Frozen prickles
Before it hits

Then nothing
No feeling
Just a warmth
A heavenly calm

Aahhh…

Invisible Lament by jim marshal

I will never be like that,
love.

Sorry but its too late for me to
Begin. I wasn’t baptised,
you see,

no one saw me come in
and no one will see me leave.

I’m only a rogue possibility,
God’s whim, not His
necessity.

I can recite from the peach tablet
of my skin, do you like it
in lowercase?

My voice by SFlora

Sometimes i feel like im wedded to pasivity
I have shed many skins
To be reborn
From myself
From within
But this ingrained
Trainned behaviour
Seems embedded in my brain
I dont camplain
Or wont complain
But should
Not be a slave to the system
To uncontracted duties that demeen
Till my dreams become
To distant to recall
And remain unseen
For fear of the fall
Of unimagined consequenses
Where is the choice in this
When the option is
Automatically erased
And the thought censored
And why does my strength vanish
When i need it most
When the suit is boss
My voice is a ghost
And i am lost
In the tension
Between where i am
And where i want to be
Who i am
And who i could be
The longer i stay
The more i know
That i dont belong
In places where ticking of clocks
Are in sync with hearts beats

By your side… by lisameryl

Life’s a never ending journey
full of good and bad
with peace and worry
both bittersweet and sad…

The world will always judge
some may tear into you
many will hold a grudge
leaving you down and blue…

There will be tough days
we’ll see this through together
I’ll never let you go it alone
for you’ve always got a friend…

I leave you with these words from my heart and soul
with all my love always…

For truth be told
I’m with you everyday
we’ll brave the cold
sheltering eachother along the way

I’ll be by your side
when you’re out of place
there’s no need to hide
you’ll never fall from grace

When your soul needs relief
count on me forever
during your time of grief
fighting it through together

Your life is never in vain
have faith in tomorrow
I’ll see you through the pain
removing all your sorrow

When you’re in doubt
caught in much despair
you’ll never do without
I’ll always be there

Don’t come clean, just come by DominicSavio

Jesus
I run at You like a grubby child
filling Your nostrils with
a bouquet of
mistakes
that I handpicked from my own garden [I
forgot You had one]
and I watch the shadows in Your
face
[as a worm from my dress falls into Your sandal]
its as if the lines
the very geometry of Your skin
spell love more than word or deed of humans in
our finest
production.

How Your cheek leans in toward my
slimy fingers!
How your words
caress
my ears!
[And how surely this fog between my eyelids dissipates]

8th Feb 2011 features – Touched By Fire

It’s great that there’s so much excellent work in the Touched By Fire group that I was able to go through just a portion of the gallery looking for art that could specifically be interpreted as meaning “touched by fire”, AND I was spoilt for choice!

Touched by an inner glow

Touched by a searing passion

Touched by lightning

Touched by God’s wrath

Touched by magic

Touched by the setting sun

Touched by unquencahble infatuation

Posessed by a burning rage

Touched by a lover – the joyful inner heat

Tortured by a relentless sorrowful energy

Touched by the beauty of light

Moved by the exhilarating heat of the moment

by Rebecca Tun
xxx

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.