Loved

aHR0cDovL3d3dy5saXZlc2NpZW5jZS5jb20vaW1hZ2VzL2kvMDAwLzA5OC81NDMvb3JpZ2luYWwvZ2FsYXh5LXNwaXJhbC5qcGc=

The first time,
you lay before me as magnificence –

the stars and the moon
were the clothes you wore –
a gift to my blackest of nights.

And while in your arms, I raced with you
through sun and sky, and as the earth
turned only to feel your heartbeat,

 I swear, I trembled when I felt it too.

You had no edges or centre – you
were love, and I trembled.

And I miss you.

 

Chalk Bones

chalk bones whips blush poem

My cheeks inherited
these whispered blushes.
Above them sits one jewel
in the traverse
of my brow’s flesh,
a stream of teardrops,
permanently nestle
in the body of my face –

they remind me of the child
caught crying
in ink black darkness
where silver shadows
of pale moon would try and invade
my solemnity –
its own had wandered only to find
nothingness and me, hiding inside of it.

Occasionally,
we would dance
a reflection; swooning and
dipping, dodging emptiness,
faded scars and the morass
of past pain, unredacted, untouched,
left to degrade, as if it could.

Calm moon chalk
expressions would beat rhythmic
shadows on my chest, imposing
stoic interruptions
where my stolid heart should be;

and, still at press pause, afraid of my
own heartbeat, of my organs,
of mnemonic patterns –

myriad disjointed
memories have scattered
amid fabricated utterances

fluttering endlessly.  Out of control
in chasms of grey, fleshy matter –
pretty cacti run my veins –
flower buds seldom seen
are happy there
forcing blood, forcing life.

I bang on the mirror…
until cracks fill with my blood –

like grime and dirt,
the pain of my disease
is ingrained,

it cannot be wiped away –
so the reflection oscillates.
I roll my cheeks one at a time;
warm flesh pressed hard
against cold glass,
my painted orange lips, linger,

and I pray my bones break
so that I might heal.

I resolve to stop this
dance of attrition – and smear
the neon shop bought mask,
swapping sorrows for sin,

and we wade out from the mire –
facets polished, pores unclogged –

for a little while
at least.

With cupped hands, I drink
the rhythm of the rain
still smothered in shade.

Ashen faced, I find I have, at least,
become whole.

Seven #Quadrille

 

420622-bigthumbnail

Quadrille for dVerse.  Other entries can be found here.

Black gossamer strands,
like grasping fingers,
pitch against
the brightest moon glow,
reaching and writhing
effortlessly, beckoning
wild, tepid winds of the night.
Silence bore chaotic sounds,
nature’s heartbeat
quickened as thunderous hooves
brought seven stallions
majestically to the bough of a leafy bend.

 

Luck

pearl moon

O wise, pearl moon,
guardian of my secrets
or lucky charm?
I carry you with me
pinned to the night’s
mink cloth; its warm wrap
consoles even me,
but I shun its generosity
and compassion – I deserve none.
Let me wallow here in darkness
and wait ’til sunlight for
the chance of forgiveness.
But when the candle idles
and daylight overcomes
dusk, my luck will run out,
so maybe I will keep walking
and blend with the budding pathways
to spring and wait for your return tonight.

To A Flame

moth and hand

Like a moth’s scattering
of night, awakening lights
with wings wildly scratching
the air with fluttering shouts,
you frantically try to capture shadows
while zig zagging the art of confusion.
Steered by signals, light waves
like battering rams of celestial
navigation, singe your soul.

A Quadrille is a 44 word poem.

Stargazing #DailyHaikuChallenge

1486722717972Picture: The Hoodwitch

Astronomical
Phantasmagorical show
Earth and moon play hide

Day 115/365 Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog

It says here…

11/2/2017 Lunar eclipse: Not to be confused with a solar eclipse – lunar eclipses occur when the sun, Earth, and moon line up. When the Earth aligns in front of the sun, the moon is covered in a shadow, which makes it appear red.

refugeenotes

About my life and everything else 🙌 Inst:@nihilnove

my life as a piece of string

... from a silent space

Letters on my Heart

The Broken Cannot Rise Alone...

Discarded Recollections

A Repository of Discarded Poetry, Story Prompts, and Memories

Lluís Bussé

Barcelona's Multiverse | Art | Culture | Science

The Lonely Author

Pain goes in, love comes out.

Light Touch

Just wondering at the miracle called LIFE .

The Stories In Between

Author River Dixon

Wezzlehead

poetry by Robert Ford

Rachana Trp.

Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.

Story Of The Footloose

In the end all you want is a pen that writes well and a life that you've lived well.

Megha's World

A potpourri of emotions

pouringtruth

Poetry and words

The Bouquet Gallery

A collection of beautiful things and thoughts

Stuff and what if...

Exploring writing and the creative randomness of life. Snapshots of moments.

Just Brian

"Not all who wander are lost..."

newtoneapblog

A Discarded Plant

A Cornered Gurl

I am more than breath & bones.

MY VALIANT SOUL

My poetry is my religion.

A Blooming Scribe

Poetry, short essays and other work showcased by a Scientist, Philosopher, and Adventurer. Posts on Monday and First Fridays.

Everyday Strange

Dark Writing and Strange Inspirations

The Words of Akunda

The Little Poetastry; The little stories

The Broad Spectrum Life

Exploring Rhymes, Reasons, and Nuances of Our World

Elan Mudrow

Smidgens

David Redpath

We're all on a road to somewhere.

Seductive Darkness

Provocative poetry and musings on life

The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

MYMonkey MIND

Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told

SentientVoice

Encouraging animal advocacy and compassion

Mark Deeble

A wildlife filmmaker in Africa

LOU RASMUS

big book guy

vividlyfoxxy

Just another WordPress.com site

Hearing The Mermaids Sing

At Least Trying Too

michnavs

Poetry by Mich

Frank Solanki

If you want to be a hero well just follow me

ALEX MARKOVICH ART

MarkovichUniverse AT gmail DOT com