I can hear the chatter of anxious birds. The wind and rain have shredded their nests. A sudden flight of wings fill wispy petals of clouds passing over.
Wandering further beneath the tall pines I hear their creaking branches stretch like old bones. Needing to be heard, the brittle crunch of leaves beneath my feet make their sound.
A White tail deer watches warily from a grassy knoll, his majestic antlers in silhouette against the splintered rays of sunset. My breath is but a whisper in this sacred place that offers everything and asks for nothing.
art by Lazada Philipine
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.
Song of seasons
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
Dipping my fingers into green and amber
circlets I hold my reflection in cupped palms.
At night we entwine
interlacing tendrils weaving
bodies stretching, limbs
reaching, giving way, every ripple
replicated in the amber sand.
Nights are as sweet as dew drops
on a rose and each breath is a vow.
A silent Oracle I inscribe Arabesque
across the grain of your skin
so that when you wake
you will remember.
Monarch Butterfly wall art for Resa!
Autumn leaves have begun to fall.
Late October London is ablaze in hues of orange and purple.
On my bench by the river I daydream that I am an adolescent
reptile escaped from Kafka’s Die Verwanlung,
laid back basking in the sun.
The air is layered in heavy cologne but men don’t interest me now.
I am content to casually observe.
To my advantage I know all about them
while they know so little about me.
Thinking of you against my wishes, dying a little,
dead all the sweet hope of dreams never realized
I imagine my earthly body padded, sat beside yours on a grassy knoll
to breathe in the scent of lilac and the mossy green River Delta.
In the dark I am nude but for a shadow across my torso.
You are so near and to distract my self from this burning desire
I let my thoughts linger among the lines of Roethe’s “In A Dark Time”.
Years pass and by chance we meet at the sad cafe. I sway in your arms like a fragile birch in an autumn tempest. The halo of my eyes glisten recalling how we gave away what we never really had. We hold each other knowing that love has died and we with it.
PBH super hero, advocate for the earth, animals, assault on women (and men) eco crimes etc. is getting quite a following and (quote unquote Resa) “She will clean one’s clock w/ titanium boots featuring retracting needles loaded with concentrated poison berry venom.” So, please enjoy the amazing artwork of Resa and get on the bandwagon. Princess Blue Holly.
Princess Blue Holly is the first Superhero who changes outfits, crime dependant!
Above: Princess Blue Holly avenges Crimes Against Animalsin her Cat-O-Nine Tails ensemble. The 9 tails braid themselves into 1 tail in the back, when not in use. Best not to get lashed with a tail! The ends are equipped w/ spiny holly leaves & poison berries. Scratches, with berry juice seeping in, will make you see the light.
It all began with Crazy Free Art to music. I wanted to draw PBH, but she already has an outfit. I went renegade, & just did what I felt like. It’s scribbly, but we thought this could be an outfit to avenge Eco Crimes, Monsanto specifically!
Holly & I are working on PBH, together. Click on the poem, and visit her blog!
Below: Princess Blue Holly decks out for a night of fighting Crimes in a City’s Dark…
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In dreams my
spirit guide is a Peregrine Falcon
with wings open wide still
she never flies through ancient
pathways filled with wood
and dark amber resin
even in dreams she concedes
she is not a bird but never
art by Karol Bak
Nights while you sleep my lips are so close I can draw your breath in like an infant at its mother’s breast. I run my fingers down the curve of your spine leaning in to inhale your scent. I have entered that golden part of you, immersed the sea that claimed me in oceans of fiery sunsets. When our hearts grow mute we will know we we have drifted too near the sun.
art by Karol Bak