Quietus

Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning, two bodies ruined by a single sweetness”   Pablo Neruda 

Between wake and sleep

I feel the brush of your hand

cold as winters breath,

glimpse you in lightning strokes.

Listen to foot steps come and go

along corridors of departure.

Mists of yesterdays recede over

rivers of time.

So that you may see what is left

I’ve etched your eyes to mine.

Dismembered by scythes, conscious

fingers of stars glide over hoarfrost fields

or weeping willows sweep ice capped ponds

where my heart became a dying bird.

Steve Hanks art

dried flowers

Where are you my love?

Chasing shadows along storm swept streets?

Turbulence has exfoliated the rosy blush

from my cheeks.

If I speak my words may bleed down

our silent walls.

If you change your mind I’ll be

waiting by the front gate

dried flowers in my hair.

Because it will not be

Does the dog still bark when after midnight the heat forces you to fling your window open? I miss your laid back voice in the humid night.
How does the third layer of blue dry on the oil you once painted for me? I don’t have unhappy memories, just naïve daydreams that we’ll never share.
We’re both jaded from too many sunsets of love sinking down behind picturesque silhouettes. Still I feel I should have yelled at you just once
to procrastinate my lingering heart attack, you’d have been too distracted anyway . So, come out my heart, let’s  stroll along the lonely shore and breathe some sexless air
watch another bloody sunset slip down the horizon because this time it isn’t meant for us.

Poetry by the author writing as Gurkski 

Tender Places

The small lake shimmers with light

reeds rustle beneath

the feet of a fawn

leaning forward her pink tongue

curls backward

spattering the sweetness of life

into her nose and eyes

spotted ears pull sideways

heeding the sigh of the forest

the breath of a breeze

the kiss of sunlight transforms

autumn gold to green

beyond the edge of the wood

fall collides with spring

in  tender places of the wild

Do No Harm

with love…purity

Beautiful!

Paul Militaru

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Murmurings

The sweltering breath of a summer

squall rushes east to west weaving

through Spanish moss and tender

willows that brush the earth.

discreet voices drift through the

sultry night (Is that possible?).

The storm moves in from the

western horizon, it’s breeze

fresh and clean.

Across the way a single candle casts

shadows on a strangers wall.

In it’s ghostly light a girl dances like

a wild bird to subdued sounds.

Her slender arms take the shape of

starling wings, undulating murmurings,

a melody and she alone drives the night.

art by Steve Goad

A Long Stemmed Rose for Holly

Dear Resa, I am so blown away by the beauty of this, you are beyond gorgeous and kind and generous and so much fun… you have brightened my days, I can’t begin to express how much I adore your unique ability to bring out the best in people. Thank you for all the fun, all the laughs and creativity you’ve shared with me, you are truly gifted beyond words. Let’s keep having the good times lovely! Bushels of Roses coming your way! 🌹🌹🌹

Graffiti Lux Art & More

“The rose, a poem of nature”– Aunt Rose Comfort in Baby Doll by: Tennessee Williams

If the rose is a poem of nature, then Holly – House of Heart poems are naturally roses.

One day I found a single long stemmed rose taped to a wall.

I got excited, because I know giving someone a single rose holds meaning. I thought of Holly right away, because of her poetry, and all the fun we’ve had together.

Velvet Tango is an Art Gown I dedicated to Holly. The image of lovers doing the Tango, one with a rose in their mouth, was part of the inspiration for this Art Gown.

I made the gown black for its drama, and decorated it with red lace roses. Here’s a slideshow with more pics of this romantic & dynamic Art Gown!

Then came drawing the characters based on Holly, that we made up…

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Net of Dreams

I dreamed you beside me

in a small fishing village

our bare feet dangling

from a weathered  wall.

Stone  soldiers guarding

eternal  holding back the

swell of the rushing sea.

From the beacon of an ancient

lighthouse wings of sea birds

shadowed a forlorn sky

only to vanish in a woeful beam.

A shell at my ear  I held you,

gathered  you in silk netting arms.

Released from my grasp you

slipped away

freed from the catch of dreams.

The Snow White Tigress -by Mike Steeden

Don’t miss this interview of Mike and review of his book by Resa.

Graffiti Lux Art & More

ADULT

FICTION SET IN REALITY( WWII – London & Paris)

SEXUAL CONTENT (Integral)

My words are in blue. Mike’s words are in black italics.

“Frenchie”sobriquet forthe French Resistance hero of this tale, is one kick ass martial arts fighter. She can kill a nazi in the blink of an eye. She uses guns, knives and her head. Her head has two uses; thinking and butting. Fearless, she will use her sexuality, in more ways than one.

Sex born of choice, no matter one’s sexual persuasion, is nobody’s business but theirs. Yet, when the ‘I own the world’ male of the species hold sway: women young, old and in-between beware! Those male scum bag’s brawn trumps feminine delicacy and brains. It’s been that way ever since poor Eve copped the blame for tempting a namby-pamby Adam in the supposed Eden. The Nazi’s history in that regard is…

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Gold Dust

From the train I can see miles of Pines,

they seem to go on forever.

There’s a golden wolf howling,

chanting to the midnight Gods.

By morning the Pines give way

to Palm trees and screeching Cicadas.

Tonight the stars reveal the belly

of the world from which we come.

What I have left is a photograph.

Tell me night-time dreamer

why you hold so many secrets

in your heart.

When I look into your eyes all I see is star dust.

art by Ilya