Route 66 calls out across the desert.
Tossing rain gear into my saddle bags
I roar off on the flame of a comet
littering the heavens with my belongings
shrewdly saving the best for Vegas.
ON HOLIDAY
A sole dove
Deeper than the Mariana Trench
more rare than a conch pearl,
The finest cognac glowing in baroque,
Belle lettrés from the crest of a tree.
In my periphery I see you.
My breathing stops to listen
for sounds of our existence.
A sole dove swoops into
the crown of a tree
quiescent in a forked bough.
The cardinals fly in,
a brilliant male and his drab mate,
nature’s biased humor.
Captivated by his beauty
she watches him fly away.
Without the will to fly alone, the lone dove lingers.
Resa and Carmine
Rene Rosso (aka Holly) penned a beauty in October, 2018.
Based on an old polaroid of Carmine & me, she came up with a poem that sticks in my heart and mind. If you click on the pic, you will go to her original post!
Remember back when you were a rock star
and I was a hippie angel?
How comfortable we were with our
heart and souls bared.
Do you remember now that you are so far
away that night in Eden when you came to me
and I came to you and the rest of the world
slipped away?
We held on to one another, made love and cried
decided never to speak of how every time
the lights went out you rushed to me,
so tender, coming and going.
Young and in love, we named that month Sextember,
yes, it still matters to me.
Do you remember our anguished goodbye?
Neither do I.
Have EYE ever thanked Holly enough?
Poem – Resa and the Rock Star © Holly House of Heart
Original art can be found at https://graffitiluxandmurals.com/2019/07/19/resa-and-the-rock-star-redux/
For Pablo
When you came for me
I was not searching.
Wild and beautiful,
lids heavy with desire,
I sipped Santiago raindrops
from your tongue and
salt-rose tears fell from
my eyes.
At the hour of your
departure my heart became a
dying bird, it’s wings
*unfastened and open.
*”unfastened and open” from Pablo Neruda’s poem “A Night On the Island”
excerpt from Night on the Island
by Pablo Neruda
I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.
an almost kiss
I enjoy most the wind
carrying dandelion parachutes,
dispersing tiny seeds across a meadow.
That same breeze winding
erratic patterns into my hair.
The softness of a new sweater;
it will never feel so soft again.
I like to explore the meaning of
of life over a glass of wine,
all laid back and philosophic
unless it becomes oppressive;
then a soft smile to break the tension
and an almost kiss.
Dateline: Chicklets’ & Art Gowns’ Host Gala Fundraiser
Resa, such beautiful artwork, gowns, music, and for such a worthy cause.
Brava!
Art Gowns and Chicklets pooled their talents for a fundraiser, and show of support for all victims of rape, sexual abuse and crimes of violence.
Headlining the evening at Toronto’s Uptown nightclub, Coopa Cabana, was internationally renown Torch Singer, Rene Rosso.
In a stunning Art Gown designed by Couturier Chicklet, Milly, Ms. Rosso opened with her rendition of Etta James’ “At Last”.
The Chicklet of Ceremonies, Pearl, introduced the entertainers, and speakers.
Key speaker, Georgiann, gave a mind blowing talk. It was filled with statistics and real life accounts. One statistic from RAINN says, “Every 92 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted; and every 9 minutes, that victim is a child.”
Marina Kanavaki and Chicklet Poppy performed a Ballet Nouveau, to the happy ending of La Fille mal gardée. It is a tale of a girl who is being forced to marry someone she does not love. In the…
View original post 293 more words
Undead
Please visit the original. Comments closed at HoH.
I write to let my emotions slowly escape
A drop or two of blood of heartbreak
A sigh of a memory
A whisper of bound desire
A tear of remorse
A caress of lovers’ passions
A blink of anger
A kiss of overwhelming grief
A sip of fear
I write to connect to you, without drowning you
We can feel heartbreak without bleeding
We can remember without hurting
We can desire without sinning
We can regret without crying
We can make love without regretting
We can be angry without violence
We can grieve without losing
We can be afraid without reason
I write to live, without living
the shallows
I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges
of ancient cliffs above the shallows
of a rough Dover sea.
My feathers gleam in the beam of
the lighthouse where gentle swells
pulse against hollow bones that in
pale blue dreams you hold tenderly
in your palm like a treasured pearl.
We have abandoned the lighthouse
that seems to lean closer to the sea
waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.
The beam has ceased its search,
still each time I pass by I tip my wing.
Art by R. Simon
by fire
When the sun is sinking low
the living gather at the river bank.
A widow wails her mantra out and into
the watery grave.
The Moon plays upon the wake of the burning boat
while at the bank mourners chant and dance
their faces obscured by the glow of the fire.
As the pyre disappears beyond the horizon
the young smoke herbs and chew kava
to make it easier to forget.
photo by Day Schildkret
metaphors of birds
Communing with birds
I open my empty palms
expecting metaphors to light
like fireflies on my life line.
From the back of my eyes
I can see the river Delta,
sweet green tarpaulin stretched
across the hemisphere and those
deep murky waters that reflect
a silver sky.
Fleeting memories disperse like clouds.
Just before sleep I sink deep
into illusory havens,
escape the boredom of life.
Metaphor and Allegory by Ju-Yu Chen
