First Snow Fall

Beautiful!

Dennis Cardiff

 

 

white flakes
(like eider-down)
flutter from heaven
collect on tree branches
hedges and shrubs

like your kisses
soft and sensuous
they caress my cheeks
brush my lips
burst on my tongue

they blanket all
leaving the path
an untouched virgin,
a wonderland
of mystery

all traces
of my coming
have disappeared
making me question
am i here
at all?

…

 

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Song of Seasons

Hold me in  fleeting hours

while we are beautiful and wild

winged creatures drinking from the

night  as honeysuckle

is sustained by the  sun and rain.

Stay  when summer departs and the

garden sips at tears pooled in

the irides of  our eyes.

Lie down with me in winter when the

birds hold their song

tiny skeletons of  hollow bone

indifferent to the cold.

For you my lips are   petals

reminders  of lost flowers.

If  you do not return

but fly on  to distant gardens

my body will seek shelter

beneath the feathers of tongueless birds.

House of Heart

Song of seasons

Easy with Autumn

Beautiful!

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

 

Another day

sprawling lazy

blue and gold.

 

Impish wind

making mischief

with fallen leaves.

 

I am easy

with this silent

Autumn

all my words

carry me

to you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Daniel Gerhartz

 

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Night Music

Quietus

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

Carnal Apple by Pablo Neruda

Between wake and sleep I feel the brush of your hand against my cheek as cold as winters breath. I thought I glimpsed you in lightning strokes through my window, heard your steps come and go down halls still echoing departure as night slips by like molasses, the mist of yesterday receding over the lake of time.

So that you may see what is left of me I’ve etched your eyes to mine.
Dismembered by scythes of devastation we scatter like autumn leaves.
You go where gravity pulls you, disappear through shimmering veils or wind
 down my cheek like teardrops settling in the hollow of my throat, conscious
fingers of stars gliding over hoarfrost fields or weeping willows sweeping an ice capped pond.

art by Brad Kunkle

Wild geese and gilded rivers

This is a day of  sun kissed

stones and blustery  winds,

of wild geese adorning river banks

their graceful necks and gilded feathers

remind me that I am nothing more than

an  observer  to that enchanted world.

Moss covered arms of  oak reach across

slanted waves   to  weightless clouds

passing  by.

Dipping my fingers  into green and amber

circlets I hold my reflection in cupped palms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Estuary of Flowers

House of Heart

Facing death
I step back from the light
into life’s darkness

The nights
after my death
my wife rocks
herself to sleep
in my favorite chair.

On the beach

I want to fly but fall like

a silent prayer.

My limbs are an anchor

as I slip beneath the surface.

Once struggling palms lie flat

as gentle waves rock me.

Seaweed strands of hair mingle

with the sigh of my breath,

I grasp the hands of my

companions,

my only thing of value.

Everything beautiful is here,

all that was lost.

Birds chorus to the stones that

mark the  resting place of a

thousand warriors  in repose  in an

estuary of flowers.

art by Abel Tasman

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Art Gowns

Superheroes unite…the drama continues at Resa’s Art Gowns!

Princess Blue Holly to the Rescue

Negril

In the hushed silence between waves
sighs fill the night as stars come alive
and the breeze is a soft poem.
Nude in the moon light but for drifting
shadows the swirl in your glass keeps
perfect time with far off thunder.
I need to look away from your gun powder eyes
that lethal shot
before the fluttering of a thousand butterflies
betray me.
I breathe in the circlets of your cigarette and
the honey sweet scent of willing hostages.
As fragile as fireflies we escape to the madness of
our minds where all we have to do is live.

Liliana Gigovic

We had wings

Then, wisdom grew from fruit

and  time was a seedling.

All creatures spoke the same,

hymns of bats, the breath of horses.

We were winged and freedom

was etched on the soles of our feet.

Pathways in the earth and sky were

known not charted.

We step naked into the blazing sun

bare ourselves  to golden rivers and

awesome tidal thunder.

 

Dali and The Garden of Eden

art by José Roosevelt, a Brazilian Surrealist, illustrator/painter.