TBF Features for the week of May 29, 2011

Hello, friends, again. On this Memorial Day I share my features with you. I almost never find a theme, I leave that up to you, the audience. Love, Duffboy

End Of The Road by Mojca Savicki

I like you like you… by Marlana Marry

The Dancer And The Window by photoart222

 

Spirit Wings by Elspeth McLean

 

Deciduous by Adara Rosalie

 

LiveLoveLaugh by Randy Monteith

 

Perception by ShadowDancer

i want us to feel alive,
to feel the knowing,
the having been there
the feel of the burn of each breath
life is a gift
why do you waste it
like fools looking for water
in the rain
this is the time of your life
to make things, do things
no more tv and
quibbling over needless things
let us hold hands as we walk down
a path of enlightenment
let us see Egypt without the pyramids
in the tiny corners of markets where the locals stay
and children sell plastic shopping bags
for a penny
hoping to make enough to
pay the man that sends them out
in return for less abuse that day
let us open our eyes and see New York
in all her grittiness
dirty and raw and full of people screaming
from hurt and the taste of street food
under their nails
look closer at Iraq
not the place we see in the media
eating lollipops from the army and saying
“Bless the USA”
but the real people that have lost
son and uncle and husband
and every woman they know
raped by white invaders AND their own kind
stop seeing right through the little boy
whose father tortures him
fills his nights with fear and
the family that sits at night
hungry
hoping next time they
will have food to fill
the empty stomachs of their kids
be alive
to see the reality of life
the real deal
not the Beaver life Americans
choose to see instead
turn off your fucking tv
open your ignorant mind
turn to the world
see

please just for once
open and really
see

Great Wall of China Charity Walk -on behalf of Scope- (journal) by HamperRefuser

On the 22nd of October 2011 Susie, Rachel and Anna will be embarking on an epic fund raising challenge. We will be going to trek the Great Wall of China (yes we are mad!).

We are doing this on behalf of Scope, the charity for people with cerebral palsy. We will be walking for five long days and covering over 50 kilometres of winding paths and steep steps. We expect blisters, tears and tantrums but we have decided to take on this challenge because Scope is very close to our hearts. Rachel’s brother Daniel, 28, was born with cerebral palsy. Daniel is physically disabled, unable to talk and bound to wheelchair, needing 24 hour care. Daniel is a cheeky, smiley, fun loving guy , with huge enthusiasm and passion for life,(and girls!) but unfortunately his only means of communication is through a computer. Anna and Susie have known Rachel, Daniel and their family for a long time and have a built a strong and close relationship with them which is why this challenge is so important to us all.

Every 6 hours a child is born with cerebral palsy. Cerebral palsy is the most commonly diagnosed physical condition in the U.K, and occurs around the time of birth when part of the brain fails to develop properly. It can happen to any child. Scope is the largest charity in the U.K working with people with cerebral palsy, their families and carers. The money raised from the Great Wall of China Trek will allow Scope to continue running their vital services which are designed to support disabled people in every aspect of their lives, from birth through to adulthood. Scope’s aim is that disabled people achieve equality in everyday life.

We have pledged to raise a total of £7000 for Scope. All we are asking is that you can donate as much or as little as you can to this worthy cause. Literally, every penny will help us reach our goal. Scope is currently only able to reach 1 in 4 people who need help. With your support, Scope will reach more people. To set the ball rolling we have donated the first £600 ourselves.

Please visit our Just Giving page to make a donation:

www.justgiving.com/SusieRachAnna

Donating through JustGiving is simple, fast and totally secure. Your details are safe with JustGiving – they’ll never sell them on or send unwanted emails. Once you donate, they’ll send your money directly to the charity and make sure Gift Aid is reclaimed on every eligible donation by a UK taxpayer. So it’s the most efficient way to donate – I raise more, whilst saving time and cutting costs for the charity. Remember, if you are an individual U.K tax payer, Scope can claim Gift Aid on your donation. This is where the government reimburses Scope with the tax you have already paid on your gift-at no extra cost to you. In order for Gift Aid to be added to your donation, please tick the box on the website.

We will also be arranging exciting fundrasing events to help reach our total! We will let you know when we have decided on dates etc.

Thank you so much for sponsoring us. We will update you all regularly to keep you up to date with our training, fundraising and after the trip to let you know how we got on, if we survived and more importantly, how much we raised!

Thank you again, your sponsorship means a lot to us.

Love Susie, Rachel and Anna

 

We are holy in our own skin first by misfit1965

We are holy in our own skin first.
Not just when we get dressed to go to church
Our homes are houses of prayer
Our homes are houses of praise
Our houses are cathedrals to God
before they are anything else
Our houses are temples
we give them to Jesus to drive
out whatever needs to be driven out
whatever unclean thing sits on a shelf
collecting dust,
idols we used to pant and run after
GOD IS A JEALOUS GOD
If He has our hearts,
it will be totally surrendered
We are vessels to God’s Glory
to His Sanctifying Grace
We model Heaven here first
in our own bodies
Temples to His Holiness
His Holy Spirit is inside of the walls
of human flesh
so much He gave of Himself
never must we defile
or use Grace to sin
Our houses are shrines to His Glory
though our tents are weak vessels
God houses the beginning of Heaven
within these falling walls He considered
so precious He chose to die
chose to become a curse
for the objects of His Affection
We are holy in our own skin first
to be vessels of Mercy and Love,
We are holy in our own skin first
the beams of our own self-righteousness
the thorns of our efforts must be ripped
When God rips out the thorns from flesh
so pale and weak
it is so we can die
so we can die
so we can die
when He buries the gangrene from our fallen flesh
it is so we can live
it is so we can live
He must pull out the visions
of our own corruptions
The Holy Spirit beckons us
to come die
to lay down and be slain
be slain from this world

 

My Dorothy Parker Moment (I) by mss3

When a woman provides a feast
Her man may always banquet
Might be best to throw her a carat
And take her off the market

 

Evergreen by MaryMac

All good girls stay home
awaiting
sitting at home she gets a call
he said,
“I dig you baby, ”
she said.
“Well, I don’t know.”

Honey.put that black dress on
the one I see you wearin’
the one with the buttons
all up and down the back
like the verse in …MaryMac.

Okay you play your guitar
and sing me a song

doves flying overhead
Lookin’ up as he…enters
time to kill the pain
oh why the acid rain…

you alright baby
I’am not hurting you, am i
No, darlin’ please talk to me…
Whisper in my ear, okay?

All good girls stay home
Evergreens
standing the test of time
Colour
growth each year
morning glory and midnight sun
time will tell if we’ve learned to sail above
a thousand words
a picture paints
The words NEVER show
ME the one I’ve come to know.
My love for life is open and tolerant
“The Holies” read my heart
I simply fly away from hate
hummingbird I’am
in Indian folklore…

Kiss my neck darlin’
play your guitar
I’ll sit… a spill working
A muse begins to bubble
I love you.

05/16/2011
marymac

 

Tear me open by redolentquill

The lampshade quivers
Shadows push the walls
Lumps seep down my voice
Your toes twitch, head sinks
In my heart warms a
Throbbing emptiness
What is there to do
What is there to want
In the now of things

Knotted tangles
Tightening on themselves
Helpless attempts, rushing
Moths, into their end
Eternally drawn
No thoughts I have

Only words
Hung in the room of
My being
Wafts of fumes
From blown off flames
Which way out

Perhaps just rattle
Heart doors
Till walls crumble down

Seamless, fuse
be window and sight
open over no walls

Features for 27th March 2011 – Psychological Landscapes

I recently launched a challenge called ‘Psychological Landscapes’, so in continuation of that theme I’ve chosen 12 artworks which depict an imaginary scene and use symbolic elements of the scenery as metaphors for an internal state or and introspective narrative. (I’ve had two feature sessions in a row now where I’ve just featured images and no writing, so next time it’s my turn I’ll make a point of focusing on written pieces!)

Possibilities by Tara Lemana
I like the serene simplicity of this piece and its dreamlike quality, while it also gives a sense of loneliness and grandeur.
Possibilities by Tara Lemana

Cold Comfort by Graeme Hindmarsh
This surreal and minimalist piece explores “isolation and alienation in the modern world” (Graeme Hindmarsh). Despite its simplicity it contains many messages and it’s the sort of piece that you could look at for a while. Interesting and original work!
Cold Comfort by Graeme Hindmarsh

My way by Jacky
This image along with its title conveys such a dramatic sense of directionality, with its use of leading lines to the vanishing point on the horizon both in the skyscape and the landscape. It’s striking in its energy, boldness and richness.
My way by Jacky

No Name by Manolya F.
This piece conveys a powerful message and seems open to various interpretations. One commentator eloquently said “We either walk into despair or into hope. From the darkend sky there appears great light and energy that seems to recharge the water. Perhaps going into it will somehow recharge us in the process. You choose.” (RoyAllenHunt)
No Name by Manolya F.

without my wings by strawberries
strawberries says that this image was inspired by Britney Spears’ song ‘Everytime’. I think it’s a beautiful song and this is a fantastic, darkly stylish interpretation of it!
without my wings by strawberries

And when the Clock stops.. by Matteo Pontonutti
“…how will they remember me?” Like a lot of Matteo Pontonutti‘s work this has a cold feeling of enormity about it, with its use of huge barren landscapes – this time exploring the stark and overwhelming fact of mortality.
And when the Clock stops.. by Matteo Pontonutti

Echoes…. by Carol Knudsen
This image was inspired by the Pink Floyd song ‘Echoes’ which starts with the lyrics “Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air / And deep beneath the rolling waves / In labyrinths of coral caves / The echo of a distant tide / Comes willowing across the sand”. I love the cool melancholy in this picture. An inspired and inspiring piece.
Echoes.... by Carol Knudsen

endless solitary by vampvamp
A beautiful and poetic image, brilliant use of white space. There is something very philosophical about it…
endless solitary by vampvamp

the perplexity of L O S T by Fiery-Fire
Inspired by Salvador Dali, this surreal piece combines natural, emotive symbolism with fantastical symbolism, combining the realistic with the impossible to create a rather perplexing and intriguing image!
the perplexity of L O S T by Fiery-Fire

Cirrus by Randy Monteith
‘Cirrus clouds are cloud characterized by thin, wisplike strands, often bunched into tufts’ (says Wikipedia). I don’t know how to interpret this picture myself, but I just love its fresh, airy, bright and breezy feel.
Cirrus by Randy Monteith

Rising against…. by nanaris
This has such a feminine, earthy appeal and tells an intriguing story which can be interpreted in many ways…
Rising against.... by nanaris

Drowning in a Sea of Tears by Sandra Bauser Digital Art
I’ve had my eye on this piece for a while, waiting for an opportunity to feature it. It’s beautifully emotive and the crisp quality of the processing is sublime…
Drowning in a Sea of Tears by Sandra Bauser Digital Art

–from Rebecca Tun

Features 20/02/2011 – Softly, gently

It’s foggy out there and all the sounds are muted, which led me to today’s theme.

Laurie’s beautiful image is all gentle and quiet. I love the colours and soft feel of it.

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Here’s a little something we do well to remember now and again by Rishani.

A breath by © Rishani Sittampalam

Life is but a breath … a whisper in the wind
Here today and whisked away so suddenly.

I love the simplicity and colours of Peter’s lovely shot.

...seedling… by © peter holme III

...seedling… by © peter holme III

Another gentle reminder of what is important by Hollyann.

one drop by © hollyann

one drop
dries up
all alone
but mixed with others
becomes
a puddle
a rivulet
a river
a flood

feeding gentle fishes
tending the sea weed
crystaling salt
and playing tide music

an ocean of beauty
you know
we can’t do this
on
our
own

I’ve always been a fan of Dorina’s art, and this one is special. I love the title and the way she executed this painting, full of questions and doubt and beauty.

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

And here’s another of my favourites on RB – Lisa’s poem is mysterious and magical.

mercy by © Lisa Jewell

her alabaster lip
pouted
seductively

her tangled spirit
rolled
achingly

her desire for touch
spilled
into waiting hands

her tears
washed
all the feet that walked into her heart

her heart
broke down
the truth had been lost in lies

her shadow of a vessel
slipped silently
back into the alabaster jar

A little bit more heat now from Randy. I couldn’t resist this clever image – full of fire and passion and more.

Embers by © Randy Monteith

Embers by © Randy Monteith

More passion, even if it’s of a sad kind by SimplyRed. You can’t help but be touched by these words.

Burning of the old Homefire by © SimplyRed

He walks silently through
pristine snowfall
each footstep…. beating crisply
in time with his heart

pumping heart of lonely
but chilled to the very core
the homefire burns
with thoughts of her

there will be no greeting
of warmth nor doorstep of comfort
no welcome mat
of open arms to make him smile

three winters now
since death stole her
creeping in through
night times darkness
swooped away on
wind of ill fate

vacant empty rooms
filled with memories
their love dusting tabletops
and chairs of comfort

footsteps deep and crisp
homeward bound
life now barron
as winters landscape

his breath fogs
as a single tear
tracks an icy cold chill
upon his cheek

Rebecca’s whimsical image brings new hope.

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

I couldn’t resist this poem by PJ either. For me it’s full of light.

the colors of lightening by © ShadowDancer

He asked her
“Have you ever seen lightening
before it leaves the clouds?”

She softly smiled
and shook her head in response.

(never daring to tell him
that it has 8 colors
and she sees it
every time his eyes meet hers)

There’s something sad about Ruby’s image, but it’s a gentle sadness, one that has almost given up. Touching, very.

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

Finally, Mohawk Man’s poem. It seemed a fitting match to Ruby’s image and a fitting end for these features.

the insanity of inanity by © mohawk man

Trapped
in all my freedom’s glory
not a care in the world
nor a worry
save the love of my lives

Caged
by the very uselessness that set me “free”
with too much time
to ponder
the what if’s of yesterday

Hopeless
seems tomorrow
regardless of the dreams
of a young man
with the world in his hands

Enjoy!

Features – 19/09/2010 – All mixed up

Rather than having a theme this week, I decided to just choose artwork and writings because they touched me in some way. A theme can be interesting and add to the features but sometimes it can also feel limiting because some artwork/writings are excluded because they don’t fit into the theme. So here’s my random selection.

Note: All artwork and writing is copyrighted by their respective creators. Do not copy or publish any of the art/writing on these pages in any way shape or form without the written permission of the authors/creators.

There’s something mesmerising about this image. I love the texture of the dress and the effect it has on the eye at leading us to the nest and eggs. Beautifully done. 🙂

un~PROTECTED by © jacqleen

un~PROTECTED by jacqleen

un~PROTECTED by jacqleen

I love the raw emotion and the acceptance of the truth and what is in this poem. It touches me deeply because it’s so rare that we accept what is.

It’s broken by © JetMannHenry

I want to shout it to the stars.
Scream it to the sun.
Recite it to the gods.

I am in love!

But the lumps in my throat threaten it’s beauty.
and the tears in my eyes leave me blind.

I love him!

But,

…it’s broken.
I am broken
and
I am breaking him.

I love flowers but so often images of flowers don’t seem to be more than pretty and don’t have much that touches the viewer other than the fact that it’s pretty. This image touched me because there’s something special, ethereal about it, something that leads you further and makes you wonder. Perfect!

Or So the Story Goes by © Laurie Search

Or So the Story Goes by Laurie Search

Or So the Story Goes by Laurie Search

This poem by Mia is wonderful in it’s spiritual depth and acceptance. There’s no more I can say, read for yourself! 🙂

healing by © Mia Rose

I am sitting quietly
at the altar of now
breathing deeply
cupping us
in the prayer of my hands
giving thanks
for the healing that pours
from the cool cracked moon
of my essence
opening itself
softly
gently
reverently
to welcome the holy sun
exploding its fiery force
in my being
fusing my grateful parts

I love the blues and greens in this wonderful image by vampvamp. There’s something healing and serene about it.

PH/VV by © vampvamp

PH/VV by vampvamp

PH/VV by vampvamp

This is so utterly magical and beautiful. It takes you from the first line and carries you with you all the way back. Wonderful!

libelula (verde) by © Erika

have you ever felt the green of the sea and how it feels to see it see you?

I have felt it
in your eyes:

you
feel like the green
the sunlight
escapes
between the leaves’ breath

and

you’re born in my mind

like
spring
from
autumn
skipping winter

and all I see
are verdant palaces
built from the same material
your heart is made of
leaving a trail of breath and moss –

I can almost catch your scent

dancing

whispering

through dragonfly wings
so invisibly visible
like an internal sigh

you leave your mind-print
on my own
and I’m reminded of

how close to me
you always are

even though

you move like a shadow
through the forest
you’ve built for me
to fly in

you should see
how beautifully the sun
springs off the trees
like rain from clouds

like thought from dream
into forgetfulness

when the sun rises and before it goes to sleep
leaving the stars in its wake:

for it is in the moonlight
I often carve secret myths into the tree trunks
when I awaken the whisper
that sounds like your voice

haunting
the mighty oaks

moving so swiftly

weaving in and out of the night

into my mouth

through my heart

down to the abyss

where you settle like gravity

and I

become your heartbeat

And from light to darkness… A compelling image by Randy. Something to wonder and think about…

Fury of the Fallen by © Randy Monteith

Fury of the Fallen by Randy Monteith

Fury of the Fallen by Randy Monteith

A dark poem by Anthea with an ending that leads us back to the light. Wonderful haunting words.

Melancholy by © Anthea Slade

Engulfed in the ice of melancholy,
sadness dissects my joy
into sections of discontent.

My aching heart stutters and
craves for days that are all blue
with shadows that unlock spirits acquiescence.

The unrest of sadness tortures thoughts
hi jacking emotional harmony,
spinning a fabrication of forgotten dreams.

An unrelenting grey sky sadistically
uncoils my heart, poisoning my veins
with suspicions snake called self doubt.

Blossoms burst as spring struggles to take hold,
the cold taunts each morn while shiver sinks
her angry teeth inside my goose bumped flesh,
a vampire, a red eye with black blood.

Frozen creativity rumbles disturbed
by light deprivation followed by night.
Salty tears sting itchy eyes that blur disrupted by the
knowledge that sadness is beautiful.

And if you dream it,
happiness and sunlight will come.

This is an amazing atmospheric image by Tori. It makes me wonder about the story behind it. Did they just get out of the spooky house and now look back? Are they going into the house? Beautiful and mysterious.

Faith by © Tori Yule

Faith by tori yule

Faith by tori yule

A heart wrenching story by Alenka. For a brief moment in time we share an intimate encounter. Wonderfully atmospheric.

from ‘A Shattering of Glass’ ….. by © Alenka Co

The sound of a man crying is the most frightening sound in the world. I saw my father cry once, and once the corporal.

His crying is muted, like it is being muffled under the covers, but still it chills me. The instinctive urge, as it was with my father and the corporal too, is to rush in and comfort but will he want that? Sometimes when we are reduced to tears we want to be left alone and sometimes we are crying out for someone to hold us, to comfort us and tell us everything will be all right. But for him it can never be all right.

I sit up, my knees huddled to my chest, listening to that awful keening sound. In the end I have to go.

I don’t knock. He doesn’t hear me pad barefoot to the bed. As I thought, he is under the covers, curled into a ball. I kneel on the floor and firmly place a hand where I think his shoulder must be. A slight startled flinch barely interrupts his grief’s flow. I let my whole arm come slowly down over him. How small he feels, bundled up like this.

When he doesn’t reject me I bring my other arm around him and rest my head on his heaving body. I don’t know for how long we stay like that, his breath a series of jagged sobs, his body shuddering under my head and chest. Gradually he quietens and stills and lies almost silent beneath me. Neither of us speaks. I hold him until I think by his breathing that he has finally fallen asleep.

I love the whimsy of this and the concept and thought behind this fabulous image.

What You Think on Grows by © AngiandSilas

What You Think on Grows by AngiandSilas

What You Think on Grows by AngiandSilas

There is so much strength and confidence in this poem by Rhenastarr. It’s fabulous and wonderful and seemed the perfect way to end this week’s features.

SHE by © Rhenastarr

Tattered edges of a
Shattered life became
Whispers soughing
With the wild winds of
Yesterday
Brushing the memory
Across the cracked
Heart and soul that fills
The empty vessel of
What was
Bringing home the withered
Hopes of forgotten dreams
Illusions planted deep, their
Pieces littering the barren
Fields of muted visions
Sharp edges
Torn and splintered from the
Sight of reason
Happiness and regret merge
Coating the walls of her
Being with the painful ashes
Of a fire that consumed too
Quickly and left the scars from
Flames that singed her
Helpless heart
She was swept in a tumultuous
Wash of feelings that left her
Breathless and bewildered
Would tomorrow ever bring
Her peace
Would the night ever hold
Nothing but shadows
In her heart a tiny flicker
As the flame of her being
Refused to die
She would not let
The past
Sweep her among the
Littered remains of love’s loss
Her hopes and dreams had
Been broken, battered and bruised
But she would pick up the
Pieces
She would repair her damaged
Remains
Stand before her mirror and
See victory reflected in her
Eyes
In the smile that now caressed
Her mouth
She would see before her
A woman who would survive

I hope you enjoyed this week’s features. Please check out all the artists’ pages and let them know how wonderful their writings and artwork is. 🙂

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

This week’s features (2)

 Hello internet world! Are you feeling like some art & poetry? Here’s the second installment of this week’s features. Enjoy!

The Secret Keeper by MagpieMagic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Broken Bodies Have No Rythm,
Broken Minds Have No Ryhme

by WhoDini

“I just can’t do it” she said to herself, “It hurts too much. I don’t think I can move.”

Having given up on the feat of befitting herself, she resigned to her bed where she remained stagnated for hours. The previous day she had worked-out so hard that reality pummeled her awareness with the insidious truths of her decline from wellbeing. Now, under duress, she lay helpless on one of the many instigators which mirrors her state. A prisoner of futility. An exile of her own desires. What hope she held dear has been dissipated by personal injury.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” she thought to herself.

In fact, it was her complacent position in her own life which lead to this and deep down, she knew it. An excuse to give up was in order, however. After all, there is an abundance of pity to be had. Self inflicted or otherwise, passive acceptance has long since surpassed willful adaptation, which too, she well knew.

“Oh, well.” she sighed, “At least I tried.”

Shrugging off her efforts in an attempt to get on with life, she slowly arises and hobbles out of the bedroom to sit on the couch and watch T.V.

The Traveller by Angel Gold

Spock’s Vision by Misty Lackey

Misunderstood like a sour apple needs seed.
Broken like a rag doll needs arms.
Driving like a wheel on the road.
Cold like the warm sun.
Withered like a flower on wet snow.
Digested like a stomach without food.
Destroyed like the twin towers located in
New York City.
Bended and torn like a sideways train.
Wasted material for the left brain.
On-board this madness the butterfly dwells.
Captivating colors webs of enchanted dance.
Where am I? This girl calls herself the bee
she swims on my words vacationing for
honey built like a mechanical bomb
ready to expose the truth.
Let there be life beyond the stars
glows time countless space I know.

Not a Care in the World by phatpuppy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The love has gone by Tatiana Kurnosova

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Broken by
Randy Monteith

a pear in love by Ingz