Breaking Horses

You are getting closer.
I hear the crunch of sand
and the skitter of stones beneath your
boots. The scent of tanned leather stings
my nostrils and fingers of steel butterflies
inflict fresh flesh wounds.
Your feathered crop gently brushes my shivering
shoulders, it floats over proud bones luring me
to the killing fields.
With no where to hide nothing can save me.
You have always known how to break wild horses.

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Wild Geese and Gilded Rivers – Holly Rene Hunter

Thank you so much Kristiana and FVR.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

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.

Graceful  limbs 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.


Copyright Holly Rene Hunter

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

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Last Refrain

The earth glistens with rosettes of snow

the sun still rises in myriad hues

Nightingales seek refuge in barren trees

to mourn February’s last refrain.

Contrails light the wings of birds

that flit beneath lit sills of doors

settle softly into winters chill

shelter in a pale blue bed

Translation by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

Der letzte Kehrreim
Die Erde ist Pulverschnee.
Die Sonne geht auf in unzähligen Farben.
Nachtigall suchen Zuflucht in meinem Schrank,
beklagen den letzten Kehrreim des Dezembers.
Weiße Streifen blitzen hinter den Flügeln der Häher,
die durch die beleuchtete Türöffnung flitzen,
sich sanft in die Januar-Kälte setzen,
Geborgenheit finden in einem hellen Winterbett.

A Winged Bird

I can scarcely bear the splendor of the world.

It’s wonder humbles the wisp that is me.

Minutiae of eyes and speechless tongue

astounded by the promise of a sunrise.

Elegant trees lift their mottled arms

flecked with leaves of gold and green

an ancient cache of living things

To be a winged bearer of no possessions

a flicker of color in the highest tree.

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God Spun

I am a constellation
pasted to a smear of deep sky or
some god spun leaf drifting
a wintry blue pond.
My tongue turns silvery around
my words, do not take them
for sorrow I have named them
peace.
Do not forget me.
I still need you to carry me
over the pierce of thorns
My hands are good for nothing but
a plea do not forget me
I am still here my hair a tangle
of stars.

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awakened

birds shelter  in my throat settle softly into a warm berth inert until they are shaken.
Awakened  they beat their wings against fiery walls, tumbling from  a Kafkaesque mind biting ears with teeth  like blades piercing the heart with unsheathed talons.
What is sacred they swallow.

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art by Karol Bak

Resa and the Rock Star – night music

House of Heart

 

 

 

Remember back when you were a rock star

and I was a hippie angel?

How enchanted  we were with  our

heart  and souls bared.

Do you remember now that you are so far

away that night  you came to me

and I came to you and the rest of the world

slipped away?

We held one another,  made love and cried

and vowed to never to speak of how every time

the lights went out you hurried to my side

so tender, coming and then  going.

Young and in love, we named that month Eden.

Do you remember our anguished goodbye

Neither do I.

 

Resa and the Rock Star

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Dedicated to Resa @ https://artgowns.com

 

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nothing has changed

When dreams pull me under
I call out across the ocean.
You meet me at  the shore
and there is nothing to  hold to
but silvery shadows that cross
and uncross in our slumbering sea.
I bend to you as fragile as  sea foam
tossed in wind rifts  you release
from unfastened hands. 
This is how I love you, a prisoner of repetition,
like endless waves you come and go.

 

 

 

art by Victor Bauer

a longing

I steer my boat
beneath the lacy moss of
cedar trees where a  lark  drapes
her song,  a spray of flowers, along
the whispering stream.
Beyond the shallows a wooden bridge
where we cast our secrets to the water,
goldenrod along the bank witness the
 breathless embrace of  lovers.
So blue were your eyes those summer days,
 how endlessly deep the longing.

art by Steve Hanks