Features 19th December 2010

This weekend has been all about snow, at least here in the UK. Every surface is coated in a generous, perfecting layer of soft but brilliant whiteness, and the air is light and sharp and unforgiving. For a photographer it presents lots of new challenges, not least of which is trying to persuade people to model for you outside! Anyway the features for this week are all about white, calm and cold. I’ve put images and pieces of writing together in pairs that I think reflect each other.

Landscape in Blueby Caroline Lembke
Landscape in Blue

the cold by hollyann
why is it
that the sky
so pristine blue
looks cleaner with cold

so clean
so bright
so silent night
all is calm
all is right

why is it
that i feel
anticipation
in the midst
of the season
of death
the dying
of the year
maybe the dying
of old unnecessary
fears

the cold
slows
our blood
slows our
movements
makes us stay in
makes us face
what little we have
left

so clean
so bright
so silent night
all is calm
all is right

the cold
makes us generate
warmth

Aphrodite by Donna Ingham
Aphrodite by Donna Ingham

Icicles by Sybille Sterk
It’s quiet
No words just shards
Dripping from my lips
Like icicles
Falling down
Making a pretty sound
But no sense
That springs to mind
Just drip-drop-dripping
Onto the page
Forming strange shapes
Like frost flowers
Painted by a mad elf
Words that sometimes
Come gently
Just drip-drop-dripping
Onto the page
Making patterns
Clearing the mind
Now they are frozen
Just cold and hard
Spiky shapes
Unwieldy and resisting
Just drip-drop-dripping
From my frozen mind
Holding no relief
Giving no sustenance
Just drip-drop-dripping
Like icicles
Falling down
Just drip-drop-dripping
Making a pretty sound
But no sense.

____________
© Sybille Sterk

The story of frozen dreams by dorina costras
The story of frozen dreams by dorina costras

Child with skin made of stars by Kristin Reynolds
We are not lost—one
within the other,
our lines are their own,
hung
from side by side stars, riding
a sky made of earth
whispered
with ancestor’s feet.

We are love,
cradled
within love’s womb

shining from the inside out.

© Kristin Reynolds 12 1 2010

sanctuary by David M collab with autumnwind
sanctuary by autumnwind

the stone of you by robin ellen lucas
i fell asleep
with you
holding you tight
eyes closing
with a smile
your mystical roots
fears no more.

in the morning
you were still there
my hands in stillness
enclosing you
you whispered a secret…
you slept with
my magic

r.e.l. 4/27/10

Sierra by Zuzana D Photography
Sierra by Zuzana D Photography

Cumulus (The Gathering) by James Watson
You are the vapor
And I am the condenser
Come gather to me

Silence #3 by gnolan
Silence #3 by gnolan

To Hear Love by Rhenastarr
To hear love
Be Still
Listen with your heart
Sometimes it is but a whisper

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. 🙂

Touched by Fire, features for the week of Aug. 8, 2010

There are unwritten areas in our souls, or parts of ourselves shaved clean for ulterior motives. This week’s features address these issues. Congratulations to all artists and writers and their work.

I Am Not Black by Trenchtownrock

Don’t call my house
with your census poll
categorizing me
black hole
abyss…lost forever
black cat
evil
that ruined your day
black sheep
of the American family
who has given you the
black eye

I am not black!

an illegal being found on the
black market
that has been
black listed
from human consumption
an afterthought from God’s mind
the scrap material
left overs
that he pieced together in the
pitch black
of heaven
because Earth needed
an antagonist for its protagonist
a ruler of the dark
black hearted
rooted in a
blackguard
to roam with harm.

I am not black!

but if I must give you an answer
for your damn poll
to categorize me
then today I will tell you a little white lie
and become Native American
so that you may feel the guilt through this phone
and when I am finished with this bullshit line of questioning
that is breathing through you
I will be human again
despite what your questions
have put me through.

Ready to Explode by Jenifer DeBellis

A little man resides inside me.
He’s been confined to my mind
for some time. Even my
therapist agrees. Today, he’s escaped;
he’s running amuck. What the…
my air’s been cut off, and I think
he’s ripped a hole in my heart.
He’s wearing a path from my head
to my heart. A burning rises;
my throat’s on fire! Are those toxins
cursing through my veins? I knew
refusing the meds was a stupid thing
to do. This torch runner’s crazed;
he’s set my mind ablaze. I’m burning
up here! Bubbling over, the steam’s
consuming my screams. I want out!

Dear Jenny… Where’s John? by BrightThing

Unmade bed by clancy214

recovery, part 2 by mohawk man

psychotic threads of wind
blast through my open being
tearing asunder my sordid past
and leaving time to fly wounded in pursuit
as i sift through the pieces to build the self
that only i know lies within

 

moth by Mia Rose

an icy half moon
curls silver
in my palms tonight

where are you?

my body is so cold
so numb
with loneliness
winter’s darkness
chilling down my spine

please
please light me…

where are you?

i imagine you
with the sun flaming
through your ribs
fiery kisses
in your blood

where are you?

please
please ignite me…

i’d rather blaze like a moth
than freeze into unconsciousness

where are you?

the moon
drips through my fingers

A Power Greater by Thomas Acevedo

Dance (not complete) by Willow Wyles

The Path by Rhenastarr

I travel on a path to nowhere
In a flower strewn meadow
That only I can go
Where the waters running
In a silver stream
Run silent running slow

It meanders by a stand of willows
The wind softly kissing them into
Life
As they sway hypnotically to
Unheard music
Soothing away my strife

Lovely little violets blanket
The ground beneath
A purple haven upon which
To dwell
Displaying their beauty to
Delight my eyes
As I stop and sit a spell

There I go to ease my heart
To clear my mind from the
World weary woes
To find peace sublime
In a place that only I can
Go

A place of fantasy to fit
My every need
To echo with the lilting
Sound of laughter
Surrounded by love
To answer what my heart
Does plead

A path leading to a
Wonderland
Free of struggles, hurts and
Hates
Kept behind a rose strewn
Barrier
A simple white-washed gate

My dreams carry me here
Bidding me to linger for awhile
An oasis for carefree walks
Upon it’s gentle sands
The air drifting round my head
Perfumed with such sweetness
Filled with joy and beauty
And endless time drifting through my hands

I find my solace, my time to rejuvenate
A respite for my weary soul
In a sleeper’s retreat to a peaceful glade
On my nightly path to nowhere
That only I can go

Marie Harris (Rhenastarr) 01-2010

See Me by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne

Do you see me?
Do you see my face?
Do you see my eyes staring at you?
Do you see my lips moving?
Do you hear my voice speaking to you?
Telling you things
I should have told you long ago
Things you needed to hear to give you strength
To keep you alive
Not the lies that you have been told, over and over
But the truth
Finally the truth

The lies do not work anymore
The lies are no longer fresh and imaginative
They have become pieces of the big original lie
The one I told you ages ago
The one you believed
But, you found me out long before I could know it
So no more lies from me to you
The truth has freed me from my mental jailhouse
And, I am not afraid of losing you anymore.

Don’t leave me waiting here… by Tracey Mac

Question 1 by Mat Robinson

TBF features – Week of July 19,2010

Hello, everyone! I share with you Matthew’s picks for this week: images so very moving and intimate, poetry with a loving everyday touch. Don’t forget to sign in and visit the featured artists and writers for this week.


0 but dust
by vampvamp

we are naught but dust…
universal particles
adrift in a plume of stars.
white gloved grit
finger tip tracings.
inhaled fragments
expelled in breath,
layers shed.
we are naught but dust…
transported by intermittent puffs
resting in mundane haunts,
omnipresent.
we are,
one,
us,
cosmic…
we are naught but dust.

I want a poet’s house by imagineation

I want a poet’s house
Filled with poet things
I want enormous windows
And a door that opens often
I want a moat of experience
And a drawbridge driveway left down
I want several pens in every room
And paper in every pocket.
You’ll find scrawling on the
back of receipts (that I will
write in parking lots) and
grocery lists (or on the side
of the road) and maybe on
my hands (if I am desperate)
which you will hold later
(when we’re close on the couch)
Some days you’ll find me crosslegged
in a puddle (on a railing, in a tree, in front of the fridge
or maybe on our bed) with a muddied paper
on my lap
and a pen
between my teeth.
You will smile (sometimes,
depending on the weather)
and sit with me (unless
I’m in the puddle and you’re
still wearing your nice pants)
and (almost always) the
mere sight of you (or
your smile, or the uneven hem of those pants,
or the goosebumps
on
your
neck,
or the place your farfaraway gaze is reaching for…)
will remind me of the ending.
I’ll always kiss you and thank you
You’ll ask why (every time, you silly goose)
And I’ll show you
And you’ll understand
(every time, you wonderful man)

I want a poet’s house.

Reflecting Reverence by AnniG

Lavish upon me,
through shades of copper
your stature, sheer strength
Bestow upon me
your words of glory, grace
Offer me undivided
diligence in devotion
Elevate my spirit with your
weathered wisdoms
Favour me with
ample abounded affection
Touch me with
respectful reverence
Bask me in your
lustrous, luminous love
Lay upon me your
eternal ethereal presence
and deliver to me
your resplendent soul

In turn, I will echo this
imbuing your image
with glimmering liquid gold
mirroring in radiant
veneration the
bountiful beauty
of your own reflection

©

(collaboration with Andy Gibb)

No Time For A Modern Girl by BrightThing

 

Gazing out to Sea by Rebecca Tun

 

Welcome Home, Daddy!!! by Jen Ryan

 

Crash course by clancy214

i’ve got red and it’s hot
and i swear too much
and this is true
and that is decorated with
delightful embellishments
but never a lie because
my memory is already shit
so i barely remember “truth”
and i digress in certain situations
because i can’t focus
if something is shiny
or
the bubbles float to the top
and i sip and sit and wits
are on a crash course
with silky fibers in waves
and top shelf honey whiskey
words that caress my ears
and
cool water splashes

a
chill

down

to my feet
 

Take Me by Rhenastarr

Take me
White hot and
About to combust
Love me hard
Then kiss me gently
In the afterglow of
Lust
Take me
To where time has
No meaning
And feelings are
All that matter
At the end of a
Burning beginning
Take me
Feed my hungry
Flames
As passion leaves
My swollen lips
In the whisper of
Your name
Take me
Over the edge
And out of control
To a place
Where the stars
Can lay claim to my
Flaming soul
Take me
In slow searing inches
Sup on what is mine
Leave my bones
A fiery liquid
Teetering on the
Edge of sublime
Take me
Beyond the boundaries
That house our
Mortal plane
Ravish me as
I surrender with
your touch slipping over
Me like warm soothing rain
Take me
Anyway you choose
With your fingers creating
Flames of fire
Bringing delirium to my reason
As I lose myself to raw desire
Take Me
Catapult me into your dark bliss
With the thunder of your racing need
Creating a turbulence of emotion in my soul
and a burning fever that only you can feed
Take me
Where my body lies fulfilled
With me fighting for my breath
From the blazing ride
You have given me
Through the valley
Of the little death

Marie Harris © July 18, 2010

Inspired by phatpuppy


Secrecy by Tania Losada

So by clancy214

TBF Group Features – Week of April 4, 2010

Fellow blog/art lovers: it’s that time of the week again. We urge you to visit these talented artists and experience their work more closely.

In the chapel by Auquier

I like trains by ArcadiaTempest

I like trains and the tracks people make in their lives, understanding fascinates the watcher.
Thoughts about life, the picnic, the clean up afterwards and which clothes best fit now.
Surely we must notice each other on the days we wait to catch our train or at least there’s a wait together for a while.

The young women waiting for their train with expressions of derailed love deflecting their loneliness in the busy click clack of their chatter.
“ Love your coat!”
“ Thanks, he gave it to me”
“ The colour really suits you ”
“ He said it would”
“Oh… he must have really really loved you ”
The coat hangs on her frame with rebuttal , the colour scoring her skin a ten in jaundice but she doesn’t mind , he had loved her enough to buy her some warmth.
I watch and hold my tongue in an agitated place wanting to shout “ Get another coat that one is full of holes!”

The dirt chipped old man with his wily whiskers trailing around his chin, the tales of his past evident in the crevices of his skin leather.
His unsteady hand clasps a nurture of today in the warmth of a full swigging bottle. The depreciation of his story slurs more for the passerby that mark him down as lost, never to be found.
His spark that lit the fuse of his destiny may have burned too brightly too soon.
The smell of his life lives a high scent on his skin and it repels us giving us a reason to look away.
We shouldn’t be afraid to sit with him as he waits for his train on the wrong line. He is our father, brother, uncle, nephew and son. He smells of what we hope those we love shall never become.

I wonder if I have a watcher with tickets for my train ride, hope they nudge me and say hello. I do like to ride by myself but I am willing to share my seat even if I seem to be looking the other way protecting my thinking space.

© K S Hardy 2010

Rainy day by Elox


Troubles Everywhere

by oscarelizondo

Troubles Everywhere

What kind of fool do you think I am?
Why should I listen if you don’t give a dam?
Where are the roses I gave you last night?
When you came back did you make it right?

Who was it that you let unzip your jeans?
How did you expect me to take what it means?
Did you expect me to take it sitting down?
Was this outing the end of fooling around?

A fool I am not and to tango it takes two.
You heard daily that I meant it that I love only you.
I picked those roses from a garden in the flower shop.
Your promises meant nothing because you never stopped.

That person that takes your clothes off uses his passion.
Because many of your friends do it, it doesn’t make it a fashion.
When you return the next time I wouldn’t be here.
Your sexual encounters will not be a reason to cheer.

What kind of a person makes a fool of someone who cares?
Why do you neglect to hear my words and continue the dares?
Where am I when you flush the roses down the commode?
When I saw you riding around did hiding make it a cleaner rode?

Who will pay for those jeans that are dirty with filth?
How did you expect for my eyes not see your stinking guilt?
Did you expect for my job to sit and wait to be done by someone else?
Was your last outing a sign that the gases pedal you plan to rescale?

Only a fool in love with themselves finds reasons to throw away a life.
A husband listens to troubles that dare a couple with respect from a wife.
Providing the things you want keeps me busy at work to buy you roses.
Keeping a city safe is an occupation that you shouldn’t rub the people’s noses’.

The money I make pays for the bills and for the children’s many needs.
Watching you take advantage of their time and mind makes my heart bleed.
Someone has to work since you don’t even raise a hand to pay for the gas.
And I shall take the children with me and find a place because this is the last.

Copyright © Oscarelizondo Sunday April 4, 2010 12:12 PM

Vinyl Nut by Myn B


I makcufehtohwneht ©

by Hector A. Encinas

If the things you own inevitably own you.
Then who the fuck am I,
With nothing to give.
Pipers here,
What now?……
What now?……..

What now..


God’s Benevolent Love
by Rhenastarr

Looking down from heaven
God sent his radiant
Light of love
To his mighty creatures
Beneath the waters
His touch of love illuminated
Their liquid world
Instantly connecting them to
The wonder of his power
They swam in happy circles
As the warmth of his light
Caressed
Beauty was alive in their
Domain
Colors floating to them
Magnified in the glory that
Was gifted from above
They played in complete
Abandon
Feeling a security they
Had never felt
A peaceful feeling
Encircled them
They sang their joy
And appreciation
Sending it high into
The vortex created
By the light
Tonight the ocean was their’s
Alone
The water had never been
More clear
More relaxing in it’s calm
They knew this night was
Special
Their creator had given
Of his love in this glorious
Night of rapture
They savored the electric
Elation as it rippled
Across their bodies
To human ears
The songs they sang
Would be likened to
A psalm of praise
Of thanksgiving
Of glory personified
A blessed revelation
Beneath the blue waters
A gift from their creator
A cherished interlude
With his all encompassing
Light of love

Marie Harris (Rhenastarr) April 2, 2010


Couple
by Angilellajoseph

Have you ever watched a young person die? by wildwomenlove

Have you ever watched a young person die?
Watched them go by inches?
Way before their time?

Well I’m telling you
it does your head in
cos you just can’t rationalize it away

Your brain can’t file it
it just keeps going and going at it
like a shark
on a whale carcass

Usually we file grief
with the thinking
she’s had a good life…
she’s fulfilled her dreams…
she died quickly, it’s a mercy…
she was surrounded by those she loved…

and that golden oldie
time will heal…

But not at 6, 12, 27, 43, 52, 63
.

Its not about the death
its about the natural order
it’s about a life expectancy unfulfilled
it’s about marriages
and babies
and parties
and love

It’s about being robbed
and broken dreams

See parents expect their kids
to outlive them
partners make plans for combined futures
friends grow lives, with friends
and when death breaks
the natural order of things
It does your head in

as well as your heart

There’s just no rationalizing it away
Time doesn’t heal
there is no timeline for emotions

Go on play that song
you know you want to
the one you heard at your first heartbreak?
You’re 16 again
am I right?
in a nano

No time doesn’t heal jack shit
you’re just learning to live
with a broken bit

have you ever watched a young person die?
I have and it sucks…

© wildwomenlove poetry
20.03.10


DuskyPink Encircles Her Heart
by Anthea Slade

Dusky pink encircles her heart
Deep brown of his eyes
warms her with iridescent power
Her rose bud opens to heat of his stare
Her blue eyes smile as she feels
his eyes see only her.

With grace she follows
the contours of her heart.
Listening to that still soul voice
an alchemist she weaves the threads
of her life into a tapestry of redemption.

In style she moves with
the magnificence of a goddess.
Hugging each archetype within she
surrenders to a complete wild woman
raw she dances where shadow and light kiss.

Her woman’s odyssey unfolded
with courage she lives
beyond interpretation
Her mystery laid bare
naked she slides consciously
into total vulnerability –
raw she is the essence of beauty.

A butterfly with dusky pink wings
she glides from giant flowers
to hidden caves.
She expands her heart in
amazing ways.
Her knowing is from living
that she has transformed
to golden wisdom.

Water droplets tease her nipples
as the golden rays stroke her back
Her heart hot rushes liquid desire
as she reflects and reaches for her equal
her day her knight who knows and can holds her.
Finally she smiles.

Her emotions are an ocean of deep passion
she dives into hidden worlds where her red collides
with planets of venus and mars.
She is her inner child at essence and she
never lets pain make her crusty.
She allows her tears of beauty to wash away
all that is not needed so her eyes are free to see love.

She rides on the back of her horse
naked she dreams of her knight who glistens
His heart adores her as his masculine desire
sees her inner child and her womanhood at once.

A natural beauty she swims with dolphins
against the current. She holds her self
possessed, free she dances for her kings pleasure,
She exudes her feminine scent and
she glows of love that she feels unconditionally
for his masculine fire.

Drawn to his male energy,
her feminine intention becomes
fuel of their dance
Happiness at pure connection at the
reverence that they can honour the real
in each other, and it is beautiful.

Sensitivity is her birthright
she picks up the nuance of expression,
the subtle pulse of heart beat
A quiver of pleasure that races
to passion. She extends her heart
because compassion is as natural
as breathing for her.

She flies on the wings of a dove to her lover
With breast exposed she moves towards revolution
Their hearts connect and pulse in time
and he looks down at his beloved beauty
and says Ah I have finally found you my love…
you are to me the beautiful pink flower, the pure
essence of Sensitivity and Sensuality

By Anthea Slade 1 April 2010

XDDD by HollyGoLightly


Serial by Lisa Jewell

i was not going to write. i was going to sit in my green velvet wingback chair and stare into the dusk light and count down the change to pitch.

a random event, housing more voices than i can count, occurred. the voices ricocheted off my soothed chamber walls; disturbing me.

“dazed and confused” (Led Zeppelin)

between a pane and a colour palette, i felt abused.

the best line I’ve read in a long time
forced itself upon me
ripping at my skin
peeling back
the autumn (of my time) leaves

“i’m haunted by humans” (Markus Zusak)

i was not going to write. but how will I chase away. what will I eat?

if I made a fresco out of the words sent to me, i wonder what shape the design would form. would the light and shade be balanced with the colour?

i should not write tonight.

Longingby Tara Lemana