TBF Features for the week of May 2, 2011

Greetings, bubblers and TBF enthusiasts. It’s only Tuesday, but there’s still time to enjoy a week of features, full of intensity and longing.

Janie’s got a gun... by Tracey Mac

What do you see underneath? by cerphotography

The leap by Jessica Andrews

Every Little Peace by Mui-Ling Teh

Fusion by Manana11

i just want to feel by vampvamp

La Odisea by Erika .

I pray,
that the ship of dreams you sail on conquers the storms of the gods and the tempests of the sea: battle mighty Orion and reach the Northern Star; and all through the night I shall witness the golden victories you leave in your wake.

I’ve heard of dark legends coating the deepest of seas and myths of winged lions guarding perils of every kind. Blood-thirsty fiends and goddesses shall coat our eyes in magic spells and stand in between our destinies, but all in vain, for we know our heart’s truth is embedded into one another.

The wars and lands we’ll cross shall be many and great, and I will record my days and weave in my sadness into the loom of poetry. We’ll worship the lands of the moon and the glow of the midnight stars before they can grant us our prayers…but meanwhile, tears stain a violet hue upon my cheeks for all the love-moments stolen by Time.

And across the roaming earth, galleons of clouds swallow the dark vault of night at the summon of the goddess of dreams, and once more our souls traverse reality to ascend the lofty heights of the heavens: for it is here, our lover’s tryst, in these dreams tucked under our starlit wings where our god-cursed journey ends and our time begins despite the miles of storms in between –

we are invincible to the wrath of the gods, my Odysseus
for we know our love stands stronger than the mightiest world.

Mind your self  by dab –

On the difference between
Soldier and Warrior
Both in battle, full of ardor
One’s thinking for himself
Other’s following orders
A human being
Shirking his own Mind
Will wilt and decay
As a tree, or algae
Shirking their ability
To transform light
Into food-energy

Lemming by lovelyrita

I am not the moon
to her planet
or the tattoo on her arm

but you squeezed me through the needlepoint,

where I became a design of orbit
she fashioned with her time (and mine)
circling her arm,

her right hand man,

waiting to be told
when and where and
what to spin.

Royal Wedding Haiku 2: The Future Queen and I by Tuliptree

I have more freedom
than the most envied woman
in the UK does.

E Man Tribute (pt. 1) by wordthrift

here in Angeles
I’m just the same,
a needle in the hay
lost to miss misery
with no name.
My speed trial
in search of Amity, Amity, Amity, Amity, Amity,
Amity, Amity,
she was someone I used to know,
dancing a number 2 waltz.
She would not say yes,
life lived between the bars
is not happiness.

Forgiveness by MaryMac

This short is a memory with my two brothers and me. My mom is driving and our heads are bopping. This is dedicated to my momma. 
Someone wrote cruel words about her and my entire family last night. Someone who doesn’t know her, me, or my family. He also wrote cruel words about my BEST friend. 
This short is to wash that away.

The person who wrote those words. I love you, I do.
I don’t know you but I can’t help my spirit is drawn to you. 
Peace and happiness I’ve always tried to convey. 
I see the good in you…not the hate. 
Peace, love, and happiness to ALL in the World.

FORGIVENESS
The radio blares, “…joy to the fishes and the deep blue sea joy to youandme.”

Lakehurst Mall…Three Wimpey Hamburger joints

Escalator take you atop…view open space, two cars one truck.

Biggest pair of Levi-Stratus Blue Jeans I ever did see

Blue Smiley face with stick-body charm… adhered to a chain around my neck

Pistachio ice-cream in a bowl please, with two maraschino cherries ontop.

The radio blares, “…ride, captain ride upon your mystery ship, be amazed at the friends you have here on your trip…”

Lake Hurst Mall

© 02/27/2011
tylerpuppy


Features – 15th August 2010 – Reaching Out

This morning I was moderating all the art and writings that had come in over the past hours and I took my time over it with the view that it is my turn to do the features today. I am so glad it that I get to do the features once every month as there is always so much wonderful art and writings for me to choose from, if anything too much!

The one that inspired this feature made me think of why we do what we do and why it is so important that we do. For each poem I chose a picture that for me encapsulated the spirit of the writing.

Cosimopiro, you inspired this week’s features with your most wonderful poem. 🙂

THE ECHO OF EMPTINESS

I see you
gorge
on generous banquets,
python like,
swallowing whole
to gratify
a hollow unending
without
ever savouring
its many delicacies.

I watch you
quaff
aged juice
from the blood of grapes,
imbibing
intoxicating potion
into numb stupor
but
never relishing
divine nectar.

I spot you
pluck
tender, ripe fruit
craving fingers
bruising,
covetous lips
sucking soft flesh
but
only tasting
bitter seeds.

I hear you
rant
the madness
of self delusions
reverberating
in a vacuum
of unrealized dreams
without
ever listening
to the silence between.

Together we stand
gazing
into clear night sky
scanning
our destinies
across time’s hardened face
but
you only see
the darkness
betwixt the stars.

I recognize you,
restless,
eyeing me,
reflecting
my own wilderness
in waiting,
ready to spring
and capture
my final
berry of grace…….

…….and I wonder…….

is it best
to have company
in the void
or to feel lonely
in Paradise?

If I was to share
this morsel of joy
will it satiate
your wanton appetites
or
will I stand
where you are now,
an echo
skipping
in our emptiness
across the flat plains
of infinity
searching
for watering holes
to quench
our thirsty wanderings?

I see you
behind the looking glass
see me,
with your pleading eyes
and I with wary glance
pass the flesh
of my fruit
into your outstretched hand,
the seed of which
I keep safe
to plant in my heart,
to watch over it
in its dormant state
and nurture it
when it takes root
and buds,
in the hope
that it will bear
more fruit.

© Cosimopiro

… and here’s Martin’s wonderful image to go with it.

The Heart Of Everything

The Heart of Everything

© Martin Muir

This next poem touched me deeply:

The Ecstatic Air

I think about God and I see Him in my situation
this situation entangled in thorns and priceless misery,
whenever I move forward I am behind myself
living my life trying to catch up,
but I stumble and I fall in slow motion into that quagmire of grief
I am lost without you, and am lost with you,
If only I could learn how to breathe other people’s stale air,
if only I could live on the stale emotions of others,
and on their salty breaths and recycled kisses
my lovers and your lovers exhausted and torn up in the blender
of divorce and no reconciliation,
please don’t come back to me
God doesn’t murder, He gives us numbers in the womb
we are living, and we breathe, the ecstatic air,
I don’t think about yesterday, and the sand that stuck
to my toes on the beach, and the kisses you left upon my heart,
I can’t think about what broke us apart, the waves that crash,
and the imposssible task of holding onto them,
Time slipped through the cracks of my dreams,
my daughter has grown and is the teenager I once was
but I was silly then, full of naitivite dressed badly,
and hid behind a shy smile then
the illness in our souls became the signatures we signed
in our sleep and we still dream to escape to
we forge similarities to make the differences bearable,
we’ve attempted to love each other, but only end up
loving ourselves,
pretending we haven’t lived through this nauseuous nightmare before

Pretending we just met, when we’ve known each other for centuries,
we married ourselves to the lies we believe, and we can’t commit to
the memories that we lived,
I’ll write until I can find the words to paste the years we ripped to shreds
and wasted back together
I’ll dance until I spin myself useless and faint dead away,
until I can get back to the precise moment you walked away,
to the second you knew you didn’t love me
to the moments my voice sickened you,
to the time you became my jailor, and I lived the sentence
of missing you, and spent years trying to get back there to that
space I offended you, when we offended each other, and spit each
other out like chewed tobacco,
when our uses outlived us,
when God seemed to forget us,
when the angels stopped singing, and the demons descended
and the howling of our anger became the reasons we stayed
pasted to the wounds of our past, and to the expressions of our emptiness
when loneliness became the beating heart of our existences
and we wandered through hundreds of miles of wilderness
the dishevelled forest of our lust, a lost cause of animal instinct
the grave of the intimacy we lost, the priest that read us our last rites
when God couldn’t keep us alive anymore, when dying seemed better
I bit the ecstatic air like bits of glass to my tongue, like chunks of diamond
to my teeth,
breaking and chipping teeth until my gums bled the life of me away,
sometimes there isn’t a happy ending and lovers are really strangers
who got confused in the rain.

© copyrightmisfit19652009

I found the same sense of connection in this image:

Running thru the fire

Randy Montheith Running thru the fire

Randy Montheith Running thru the fire

© Randy Monteith

… and again a deep sense of connection and longing:

Sonnet To My Soulmate

Dear skin and hands and all things sweet and pure
containing legends deep within the bone,
and holding old romance in their allure
pull me in dreams of you and me alone –

Alone in white rooms, fantasized by me;
alone in orphaned gardens, saved by you;
alone in white-washed castles by the sea;
alone in meadows pale and soaked in dew.

The beauty of your life is intricate
although you may not see its rambling grace;
you’re made of candlelight and fires lit
to warm the pallid shadows on my face.

My spirit flies to you and now I’m whole,
and sweetly, gently, I embrace your soul.

© lilynoelle

… perfectly expressed here:

lovers

vampvamp lovers

vampvamp lovers

© vampvamp

… this is why we put ourselves out there:

The Prodigal Daughter

Thanks to a class offered by a
soft spoken South American professor
who preaches the gospel of creativity
I am whole again.

Seeking the power of steel beams and girders
I had tossed my Muse (my dearest friend) into the sea.
I needed muscle
not watercolor dreams leading nowhere.

I learned to weld and solder
to read blueprints and gauge distances
to hammer and sweat in the sun
until mine was as big as his.

I forgot how to cry.

Finally one day in class (for three credits)
I walked alone across the bridge that
I had built with my own two hands
and found my Muse

waiting
like an indulgent mother
for me to call her name.

Now words and colors and images
leap and dance before my eyes
and I paint golden wildflowers on my bridge
and I sing purple poems
and my tears fall freely now
because I have come home again,
transformed.

It is indeed a form of prayer.

© Maggie Vlazny

…and here this feeling of connection and being part of everything and being yourself is perfectly shown:

The Guardians

MoonSpiral The Guardians

MoonSpiral The Guardians

© MoonSpiral

… and a great sense of being part of it all and being yourself:

Whales on the cusp of everything

Upon waking, before the whale’s sleep drives in and
out of my eyes, I sit: taking in, taking out, turning off—

turning on until a smile births on my face in the shape
of a lightening dark spark—breathing and blooming

in the heart of infinity’s shadow. I am dead; and
more alive than any thing. My heart grows a mouth,

here, beneath and above the pitch of the sea—a baby
in the arms of a forgetful young mother; a whale singing

down the shipping lane sea. When my thumbs are
the only ones still breathing, I rise, a rice-paper basket,

empty, in the fist of the universe, a photo of love
in my pocket, beating with the fragrance of fruit.

© Sesheshet 8 14 2010

… and the connection continues:

after the rain has come

Ingz after the rain has come

Ingz after the rain has come

© Ingz

… ending it with a heartwrenching poem that almost made me cry:

Freeing Myself

sometimes I get soo angry
soo mad I cant even cry
holding that blade to my skin
contemplating suicide

I think of all the times
that I’ve been pushed to the break
my hands are shaking with hate
I dont know how much more I can take

I wish the world would grow silent
everyone would just go away
lifes becoming too much of a struggle
each and every fucking day

I put on my smile
I’m happy is my constant lie
when deep down I am screaming
wishing I could just die

give myself freedom and peace
its not too much to ask
but my mind is slipping
no longer in my grasp
I have too many secrets
that I just cant get past
but I smile real bright
cover it all with my mask

I’ve got alot of issues
that already weight me down
but people keep fucking with me
pushing me deeper into the ground

I dont know what to say
to make my life alright
sometimes I’m soo lonely
I cry myself to sleep at night

then there are the days
where I dont want to leave my bed
I hate it soo much
these voices in my head

I just want to end it all
the pain is to much
the emotions are spilling
I’m loosing grip on the clutch

I want to rip out of my skin
breakaway and be free
no more pain or anger
I just want to be the old me

I want to smile
I want to love life
I dont want to hate myself
I dont want to hold this knife

I’m sorry…I can’t
and you’ll always wonder why
I just needed to be freed
and now I am….goodbye.

© JaNae Boswell


… and leaving you with an image that shows all the longing and heart breaking loneliness of JaNae’s poem:

so much emotion

cerphotography so much emotion

cerphotography so much emotion

© cerphotography

I hope you enjoy this week’s features, Sybille xo