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.

Features for the week of 7/17/11

Dreamy…neurotic…eerie. Enjoy =)

[ tren de vise ] by
[ 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

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]

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

Features for week of November 28, 2010

One often calms one’s grief by recounting it. Pierre Corneille

I want to know what it is by queenenigma

the rest was amusement by emilyhurts

drowned in the bathtub years ago
a floating body that drifted with the tide
i was flushed down the toilet
into my secret wonderland
to start all over underground
into the secret place where
the earth keeps all of the
unborn children
and all of the small pets
that were cast out
the womb of the earth
keeps them safe
from the faces that destroyed
them and ripped them to shreds
in a bloody haste
simply, we were all too much
trouble

so i swallowed the ocean
to free you of me
to make sure
you were rid of the pain
the gnat i had become to
your heart
i smashed my insect body
against a rock
to break the chains
that bound me to you
and then i giggled
having died quietly

don’t look for me
on the surface
i’ve gone into
my soul forty times
and became lost
in the labryinths
of memories
i put into cellaphane
so as not to disrupt
your sensitivity

i am not here for
you to scream into
me as a megaphone
i simply disintegrated
into the ashes
and you swept them away
with the soot from the fireplace
i laid in agony but you never came
so i burned

then i ran away
threw myself
from the cliffs of rocks
to leave fate
no more chances
let me die in peace
embrace the jagged
knives below
please just leave me
alone
give me the hour
of my bereavement
the choice of leaving

i live inside the clumps
of earth
i drowned years ago
the rest was amusement

Give me something to believe in (through rose colored glasses) by Will Crane

My Long Last Goodbye by trwoody

In the twilight of my conscious
between wake and sleep ……..
darkness falls
scattering shadows to chase the light
I see your face…..
I feel your touch
I still hear you call my name
Sixteen months since you said goodbye
yesterday has been lost
in what should have been tomorrow
time has tempered
love and sorrow
celebrating the better….
sharing the worst
sweetheart, friend, lover, wife
you are my past, you were my life
All our firsts,
love and laughter,
pain and loss
life together’s cost
now these memories
I alone bare
with no one left to share
A thought of a past experience
brings a twinkle of remembrance
with a smile of recognition
comes a flow of emotion
making a laugh
as close as a cry
As snapshots of my mind come flooding back
I realize just what I lack
with your part gone
I move through this life
as a pawn
the world is distorted,
out of balance and unkind
you loved me for who I was
who I could be
you made me…………. who I am
we walked as one,
through life
constant companions
in time

I close my eyes,
I still hear you call my name
In the morning I hear your calling
In the evening I feel your urging
sometimes insisting
sometimes pleading
but the one I wish not to hear
one of panic and of fear
to know your body is failing…
your mind still clear
I remember this too,
As you say your goodbyes and face your fear,
true love and selfless care
across time and generations, to see
the voice of a child of three
break the clutches of pain and death
and awaken as a call
from your comatose fall
searching with eyes that cannot see
reaching with arms that cannot move
to find the source of love and devotion
from a life of dedication
Now we give you up and send you home
you fought your best,
you deserve the rest
as our daughter and I whisper in each ear
and tell you it’s alright,
you’ll always be near
say farewell and let you go
to wake to a better day
we will forever remember this scene
of peace so calm and so serene,
…….. your final smile……. your eternal tear
Look back on a time now complete
knowing life will never be the same
I wish only……….to hear you call my name

more I am hurt, more strong I become by queenenigma

Frailty by lolowe

I’m bound to you
Flighless feathers wound by
Stripping the fray of twine tight
Suffocating the startle of a
Breath back into my lungs
Breaking flesh and light before
The flash of pain runs red everlasting
A stream of cuts and bruises
Swelled
The backwash drum of a fragile heart beating
Thump
Thump
Carrying the wavelength of a
Whisper to pulse then stop and
Repeat its words until only the
Singular sound of it fills the hollow
Of my bones
When
When
When…

Will the wounds heal?

No question regarding time can ever be answered quickly
And so countless cycles create
Themselves in the spaces where
An answer should reside
Each
More frail than the last
Until
By the force of its eventual turn
It snaps like the vulnerable piece of makeshift twine
Unravelling an answer
Now
Now
Now…

Is the time to listen

Until words gain the right to make new again

lost in her thoughts by Ingz

When We Danced in the Rain by Cassidy JK

Remember when we danced in the rain?
Well, you danced and I watched until you pulled me from the porch.
You said, in your best Wicked Witch of the West voice, “I’m melllllltinnnnnng.”
I said, “I’m melting too,” and melted into you.

When I think of you I see the curve of your back
where my arm fit perfectly when pulling you close.
I still hear the sounds you made when I’d draw you near and
we danced as one, rain or shine.

I miss your breath on my skin while you sleep,
how it tickled the hairs and sweetened the air.
I miss burying my face in your neck where
safety and love allowed my weakness to not hide.

What’s left of my soul aches for you,
but now I rarely allow the dream.
It hurts too much, this never again, never again.

Why can’t you see that pain’s anger
was stronger than my love for you?
All I’ve said I’d never be, I’ve become.
I have replaced the sweet, sweet taste of your lips with
bitter tastes of hatred, blood and vengeance.

I beg you, go away!
Get out of my head, get out of my heart!
Let me toil in flame with these sins,
trying to forget when we danced in the rain.

Loving You Would Destroy Everything by David Mowbray

you hurt me by darkvampire

you hurt me
casually
like the guy who
shot the
prisoner
in that old ‘nam
newsreel.
you have the same
dead eyes.
the way you
look
at me
sometimes
is worse than
hate.
detached.
like the way I
imagine the
hangman
looks at the
rope.
I have seen that same
look
in the eyes of
hunting beasts
but in their
case
they seem to
feel
they are pursuing
fate.
with you it’s
different.
when you
cut me
it’s not to
fulfil
your destiny
but
like
Michaelangelo
you try to
carve away
the surplus
flesh
to reveal what’s
underneath
yet
you leave no
renaissance
masterpiece
but only
empty
pain

you are a
sick
bastard
and
cruelty is your
drug

Broken Heart Lady Portrait by Mark Skay

How I Once Loved You: Unbearably by Blanchott

How my legs shook as I presented the ring: as if I had just had a car accident.

That night I took you in the graveyard: allowing them voyeuristic joy, both the dead and the ants; the latter loving your flesh as much as I did.

How proud I was that you were you: accepting and passionate.
Our bodies fit together as if we were born for one another.
Born to express our passion, exhaust our bodies, never our lust,
which was all consuming and for so long

You remember the kitchen? How you were rivited to our reflection in the window behind me. From counter to den, the rug would have marked us, our movements so passionate.
In the bedroom we finally exhausted ourselves.

How we were filled with wonder at the possibility of ruling the world from our own corner; we played with Hodges. You painted, worked the pottery wheel, I wrote. The only noises the click of the kiln, the rustle of silver leaves, and the cries of our exigency.

How safe I felt with you: safe because you would not judge me.

How we worshiped one another: like Orpheus I would have traveled to the world of the shades to rescue you from the Pluto of your unconscious torment. My Eurydice, you would have avoided the fatal strike to the heel; snakes respect such passion as we had.

How I fell in love with those stripped overalls: the swell of your breasts irresistible under the pressure of your leotard. I knew immediately upon walking into the house that, whatever the cost, I would remove those overalls, caress those orbs, or pinch when the time was right.

How we were frustrated that first night, election night 1994: In spite of certain logistical issues what happened was necessary. Never mind the sister. No protection: perhaps the wait made it sweeter. A run for condoms while it was still dark outside. Can there be too much foreplay? Goddamn straight. By 3:00 I was damn near ready to play McGyver and use a glad bag. The fortunate aspect of having no condoms; we spent hours exploring each others bodies, created a science of erotics.

All that passion: how did it escape? The arguments did not help.
The secret thoughts we harbored of being free. All of the time I spent in my office? How could I not, orals bearing down upon me. I dreamed of Plato, Derrida, Kant and Foucault on the rare occasions that I slept.

Whatever the case, we sure did screw the monkey. Were you as
relieved as I was to have escaped? Were you as sad? How I once loved you: unbearably.

Features for November 14, 2010

There are two ways of spreading light – to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. ~Edith Wharton.

Giving love to our hosts/bloggers. A lot of hard work goes into Touched By Fire, both the group and the blog. Like you, each of our co-hosts have lives outside of the bubble… families, jobs, and responsibilities. Yet, they always find time to devote to our blog and group, sharing gratitude, encouragement, and support with all of us without hesitation. I can’t express how much our little group of volunteers continue to encourage and wow me with their generosity and friendship to keep this blog buzzing along.

These wonderful people are also artists in their own right. In fact, it was their role and quality as artists that made me ask each of them to join TBF. I love the variety of styles, media, and ‘flavor’ that everyone brings to the table, and to see how that affects their choices in features and blog posts.

Touched by Fire, the blog, is nearing it’s 1 year anniversary. I wanted to take a moment this week to celebrate our co-hosts as artists and allow them to get some basking in the limelight they, without complaint, bestow upon all of you. I have chosen to showcase different pieces on the blog than on the features page, simply because I wanted to give their work more exposure than is allotted by the features page. Duffboy, MagpieMagic, Moonspiral, Rebecca Tun, lroof, and Linaji – I wholeheartedly celebrate each of you as amazing artists, incredible co-hosts and bloggers, and especially dear friends.

Duffboy
Duff was one of my first co-hosts and he has stuck by me through thick and thin. He really helped me give this blog a great running leap and was always entertaining us with terrific posts, tidbits, and helpful information. I first came across Duff as a writer. His ability to evoke sharp-shooting emotions within just a few lines really grabbed me. He’s a man of many talents, including photography and film-making.  Here are a few pieces of Duffboy:


Echo
I’m your alternate ending
the button you
should’ve pushed
21 flavors in a single
cup.

I’m the passerby
who dialed 911
mystery man, scape goat
a bomb.

I’m the right words
to say when you need
to seduce, snake charmer,
whenever you must perform
spread legs forgery.

I’m the echo, the real deal
a surface just cleaned.

MagpieMagic
Sybille, otherwise known as MagpieMagic, is a photo manipulator of the otherworldly kind. I have been following her work since I first joined the bubble. Explore beyond her redbubble portfolio and you will find she is a creative in every sense of the world; her own blogs and websites display an array of beautiful things, jewelry, crocheting, writing, knick knacks, handbags, to name a few. She has also helped keep the blog a buzz with her features and giving spirit. Please enjoy a little bit of MagpieMagic:

The Secret Keeper
He stood in the dark wood, doubtfully looking at the moon through the trees. He shivered in the cold air. Before he had time to consider his choices and give in to his fears she stood before him.

Her hair was long and shimmered blue in the light of the moon. Ribbons were tied in it, each with a key at the end of it.

“You are the Secret Keeper?” he asks her.

She nods.

He pulls a blue silk ribbon and a key out of his pocket and shows them to her.

“Any questions before we proceed?” she says with a low, soft voice.

He thinks for a moment, “Will my secret be safe with you? A lot of lives depend on it.”

“Of course”, she replies with certainty, “I am the Secret Keeper.”

He pointedly looks at the discoloured and scarred flesh of her shoulder. “Are you sure? Even under torture?”

She smiles and a soft green glow appears in her eyes, “Yes, I am sure. Even under torture, maybe especially under torture. This”, she looks at her shoulder, “happened a long time ago, when I was a new keeper and didn’t know my power yet. Do you want to change your mind?”

He shakes his head. “What happens now?”

She holds her hand out and after a moment of confusion, he gives her the ribbon and the key.

With another of her little smiles she leans forward. He whispers the secret into her ear, breathing in the scent of her, earth, smoke and a flowers whilst he does so. It makes him feel light headed. He finishes the telling and takes a step back, watching her as she ties the ribbon into her hair and attaches the key to its end.

“That’s it?” he wants to know.

“Yes, that’s it, no more is required. Your secret will be safe with me.”

“What happens if I ever need the secret back?” he queries.

“I’ll find you.”

“How will you find me? I could be anywhere.”

She laughs, and with a mocking tone in her voice she replies, “The same way I found you today. I will know if and when you need me. There is a connection between us now anyway”, she said.

“But how will you know which secret it is?” he asks curiously.

“I am the Secret Keeper and in my presence each secret will always know it’s owner” ,she explains and pulls on one of the ribbons. A key shimmers in the moonlight. He recognises the swirls and curls at the top of the key as the one he has given her.

Her dignity and serenity surprise him. She seems very young for such a responsibility.

“Is it difficult carrying all these secrets?” he wonders.

“Sometimes”, she agrees and then, almost inaudible, “they whisper to me, late at night”, and in a normal voice she continues, “you are full of questions, aren’t you? Remember, curiosity killed the cat.”

He grins, “It’s what I do, ask questions. How did you become a keeper of secrets, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“If I told you that”, she laughs at the look on his face, “you’d have to take over. Are you ready for that?”

He shakes his head and raises his hands, “No, thank you. My job is difficult enough.” He takes a step back to make his point.

“Our business is finished then. Unless you have more questions?” she asks him with a mocking smile.

He shakes his head again. “No, no, we’re done.”

She smiles, “So be it then.”

“Take care of yourself”, he tells her.

For the first time surprise shows on her face. “I will take care of your secret, don’t worry.”

“I am sure you will, but that’s not what I meant. Take care of yourself. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt.”

“Thank you”, she smiles, but this time the smile lights up her face and he finally sees that she is beautiful, scarred shoulder notwithstanding. His fear leaves him and he smiles back at her. He is tempted to ask her something else just to keep her here with him a little longer.

“One last question?” he asks giving in to temptation.

She nods, amused by his curiosity.

“What happens if I die? What happens to the secret I mean?”

“The ribbon and key will crumble to dust and the secret will die with you.”

“Good. That’s very good.”

“Goodbye, be safe”, she says and when he looks up she is gone. There is a tinkling sound as of metal clinking against metal, but then that fades, too.

He stares for a moment at the place where she stood before him, then turns around and finds the path back to the city, his heart a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

___________
© Sybille Sterk

Moonspiral
Tammy Mae is a deep and loving artist that I have adored for some time. Her stunning paintings, women and goddesses with deeply expressive eyes and emotions, typically represent deep-level subconscious or spiritual conveyances. Her work blows me away every time. Enjoy a little glimpse of her stunning work:


Rebecca Tun
Rebecca’s photography won me over from first glance. Just one look at her portfolio and there is no doubt she will go far in the photography world. She is also a model and you may find her in some of her own, and others, work. Her work always focuses on the emotion of her subject along with storytelling. Please enjoy a few pieces of her work:


lroof
I came across Lauren through the homepage layout forum on redbubble. I loved her keen eye for great work, and especially for her ability to put together a collection of pieces that look great together. She is a budding photographer with a youthful, whimsical style that I adore. She’s one of the new kids on the block and came on board specifically to help me out with some of the things I stopped having time for, and of course I love her for it! Please enjoy a few of her fabulous photos:


Linaji
Seriously, is there someone on redbubble that doesn’t know Linaji? Photography, digital painting, storytelling, poetry, and not to be overlooked, her enthusiastic support to everyone else’s work. It’s no secret that Lina is a dear friend of mine, but truth is when I first started TBF I asked her to join me, but with commitments to many other groups she declined my invitation…. for a year. However, I’m a persistent little squirrel so I kept squeaking away at her until she finally had room in her life to be a part of us. Lina is seriously one of the very first persons that I ‘followed’ on the bubble. I found her because of her writing but also appreciated her visual art as well. I love the way Lina’s written word gets a hold of my insides and squeezes them until I gasp.. and the way she is constantly forging new paths in her photography and digital painting. Enjoy a few wonderful pieces of Linaji:

Your Pearls
We were waiting together
The lines of communication were all out
Wired up to find the sound of hearts like our own
Grey matter silver lined clouds
Amassing in the south
Waiting it seemed to rain on our parade.

However, we then looked toward each other
Our peaceful conversation seemed endless
And In our connection
There grew a peerless strength
Within each of us as we remembered
the world was our oyster.
It was then I began to feed you the pearls you were wearing
You took each one with a sensual understanding I cannot
quite describe except to say
I was in awe
My hands touched your skin like raw silk
Smiling you said you liked the itch of remembering with hands like mine
You liked the connection
As did I
And soon we forgot
How painful growing up can be.

Linaji 2009

Love each one of you,
PJ Djennel, aka ShadowDancer

TBF Challenge – Waiting

“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.” Paulo Coelho This challenge was looking for the4 best works depicting the feeling of waiting. Congratulations to Cynthia Lund Torroll for her piece “She Waits”, which took first place in the challenge.

she waits by cynthia lund torroll