He was a canvas...a beautiful sight,
An expanse of white, so pure and bright.
Not like the moon that graces the night,
Nor like the clouds that drift in flight
Unlike anything else... but like a swan
Engraved in chiffon.
My feet drew towards him,
Each step etched in the dim,
Crystal chamber of love.
My fingers traced him,
Stroking with hymn beneath the moon,
Coloring a secret wove.
I drew back to esteem,
Stumbled, feeling light-headed, lost in a dream.
Dropping to the cold tile.
Glancing through drowsy eyes,
My gaze stared at him, painted in red.
My blood, my soul
…lost in his stead.
I do not bother God
with too many questions.
I watch with sardonic interest
as ants continue to terrorize nations.
The ugly I have found to be beautiful
the root
the gnarling trunk - everything
under my hands and feet.
What I see - I am.
Writing poetry
keeps me light-headed,
I break words open to free their souls.
I am crazy for all things broken.
The air-conditioner is a hive of humming minds,
most pillows are stuffed with whispers
I know this
as much as I know your restless dreams.
Gulls scream their savage songs
because the sky is all theirs.
Ghosts do not bother me
what does not seem to change -
that,
that alone bothers me.
She used to think she could fly, she would jump off the couch and it seemed so high. She lost sense of the air but her childhood could not compare.
She went to Saturn instead where she had freedom that was self-led, so more worries no more excuses, no more waiting for a savior to tell her reality is gone.
She took the world into her own hands, she used to think she could fly, she figured out soon it was all planned out so to Saturn she wondered about, she skated from one ring to the other.
Better than the life she knew, but frankly she didn’t have a clue, didn't know wrong from right all she knew is that her life was taking flight.
She felt as if everything she was used to had been washed away and she couldn’t have been in more of a mixture of disbelief and array, a satisfaction that blew her away.
She pondered the stars and this was her newest adventure by far.
Intense, the sun’s rays
light-headed, dizzy, her reaction
A chill wind from nowhere
stabs her, springing into action
Is this the end, she wonders
gathering herself
Throws herself shamelessly at the world
uncovering ~ a sacred elf
I've been working on it.
If I were a nib or stylus I'd be worn away.
Sometimes,
there's too much space to fill with words,
or there's not enough.
I'm digging my way out
of A Marriam-Webster dictionary.
when I surface,
I might be light-headed,
but a lot sharper.
Spring is not all good when it steals my charms
Losing poise with joy as I run around
With bright flowers on hands, I stretch my arms
Twirling and cheering as colors abound.
Spring is not all fun each day of my life
When bees sting my eyes, lips then spiders bite
While collecting bright hues with my cute knife
I endure all pains, thinking such prize is right.
Spring is not all beneficial to health
Sneezing a lot one day, so light headed
Rashes appear on flawless skin, my wealth
Oh, spring! Your lover is much rewarded.
Spring is not all, it’s not moon, stars or sun
Under one dark sky… its surprise, still grand!
Feb. 19, 2023 5.51pm
Spring Is Not All
Contest Judged: 3/2/2023 3:37:00 PM
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Place 4 (up to 4th and HM multi-w)
God’s love and light headed our way,
is attracted to innocence,
radiating as love’s incense,
that causes heart to gently sway
by day and by night everyday,
as bursts forth soul’s luminescence ~
God’s love and light!
Oh hermit, gentle way we pray
in rhythm with love’s soothing cadence,
that bliss nectar effervescence,
transforms this feeble form of clay ~
God’s love and light!
29-December-2022
Rondine
Divorce robbed him of surprise,
left him disused,
parts of his brain tingled less,
he grew blasé, he had to improvise,
extemporize parts
that were less prone to rust and mold.
It seemed he was a bare broom,
one that could no longer sweep away
a rising sense of purposeless.
Then it was that a new surprise found him,
he began to make yesteryear trinkets
knickknacks held together
with a duct-taped nostalgia.
Walking sticks and old-school picket fences
were carved from the bones of his memory.
Other doohickeys such as
paperweights for light-headed ideas,
or knickknacks to fill in
those awkward holes in people’s lives.
Success returned, so did a new wife.
She had a lever, a jack,
to hydraulicly lift him up
when he occasionally sagged.
She used superglue on all his loose bits.
It’s wonderful what a new lick of paint can do.
Low mood(down, depressed or hopeless)
Diarrhea
Nausea
Heart problems(irregular heartbeat)
Hay fever(when never had before)
Shortness of breath
Chest pain
Swollen glands(in the neck)
Unusual muscle pain
Skipped meal(no appetite)
Brain fog(inability to focus)
Chills or shivers(no fever)
Sometimes fever
Dizziness or light-headed(terrible symptom)
Persistent cough
This is only to name a few. This is some of the symptoms that happen after one has had the vaccination and it is also symptoms when one has it without the vaccination but without the vaccination it can go on to get much worse.
Spiderwebbed folds hang from each arm
as moss will from an aged cypress.
He sometimes raises haggard hands
as if he dreams of rising again,
or to cover bleary eyes.
The world is his mind.
Daylight a brief fluttering against closed lids.
Night floats above him,
he feels a light-headed immunity
from the gravity of death.
Outside in the hard-wired clamor
buses and trucks growl up droning hills.
Order and chaos are ushered in and out
of pallid pools of sunshine
and the wheezing colostrum’s
of a cloudy effusion.
Most who travel are asylum workers,
the old brick systems of sanity
must be maintained,
the matrix clipped, then the disused
swept under crumbling foundations.
The infrastructure, the fabric
the kapok and pith,
the nuts and bolts of an older age -
it all needs workers.
The dying man hitchhikes under a hand,
feels the warmth of flesh in full-bloom.
He sighs,
the nurse hears only a gurgle,
she is monitoring,
the winking machines are monitoring
while camara’s monitor everything.
He remains in his world,
always sinking upwards
toward what he knows not,
but it’s not here so he does not care.
All Wired Up
Bird on a wire with an art gun. Oh not in the sky. Stoned on turtle cigars. No flying. Light headed oh yes. Sickness from high speed turns? Feel the G force kick in on those wicked turns. I watch you with envy. Wish I could fly like that. Better than the green lizard thirty feet up on a wall. He can climb vertically. You can fly in three dimensions. Which is cool. Put there by a witch? No by Mother. She smiles from a down at me from a sickle moon. In a verdant powder sky. How do I fit into all of this. I watch. No more.
Second Shadow
Jimmy Boom Semtex
Working everyday of this weekend my bones in my ankle hurts to heart despair
my brain still full from all the crap I gathered roaming here and there
Coffee stain in my sleeves, my brain still blood thirsty feeling light headed as I stand every time
starving myself to look right, sorry my body for treating you like this
Another call for my composure my boss tells me to correct my posture
How much I hope I can correct my whole life from starting to end as this is just a result of series of bad decision from my side
Life is just a test you give out with no answer whether you did right or wrong
its just much later in life when you find your decision true light
Hope it does not scare you little child but that's how much I hate my life to put in words and make it real for you to sigh
Sienna...
Sounded like silk
looked like silk
it felt like silk
rolling over her tongue
over her skin
every hair on her neck standing on end
Hackles rippling
hers and his
as he turned his steely blue head towards her
Eye to eye with something so wild
she felt her soul
succumb
Light headed
she sighed
nay swooned
scratching Kestrel off her list
4.7.2020
The Soup
Herald the song of the poet and poetess…
The muse, the art of words, chased across paper by pen.
Not unlike a pirate and a princess, a hero and a queen.
My time here among those that fly, has been short.
But and yet, (pause)…I am grateful to be here at all.
The wings of some, full feathered, birds leave me knowing I will fall.
I am unskilled and often feel light headed.
Yet the chirping sounds, the longing calls, the very cooing utterances,
of veterans and beginners all and as one…
lift my unsteady, unready wings ever higher,
than I thought possible, to still breathe…at all!
Giants walk hard and angels pass lightly,
both leave prints on our lives ever lasting.
Comments on words, words on paper,
dreams and fragments of tensile.
Thank you to the soup.
Ann
Jump, dance, leap and prance.
The flames of passion are growing.
They'll devour us given half a chance.
The basic animal heat is rising
Our passion to much to handle.
Our kisses, longer and longer. Our bodies do the deciding
I see your nakedness for the first time.
I feel this passion deep inside.
Again, I feel the desire beginning it's climb.
Our bodies entwine and explore.
We need each other, wanting more and more.
The blood is flowing.
We reach a fervour,
Lost in each other, a light headed euphoria.
It is the precursor to our great finale.
Exhausted, satiated, we rest in each other’s arms.
At complete peace with one another.
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