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.
Thank you so much Kristiana and FVR.
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.
Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay
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.
art by Karol Bak
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
Dedicated to Resa @ https://artgowns.com
I feel you in the pouring rain
violent or soft as a summer storm.
A distant star you appear only to fade
into the night from which you came.
Decaying gardenias fill my room with mortality
a treacly specter of memories.
Wounded hearts are slow to heal
I have become indifferent to pain.
We are a wasteland, all poetic breath died with us.
I long for the scent of earth infused with deep roots
the soothing sounds of chimes swaying from the
limb of a live oak, soothing sounds for the twilight hours.
Scattered and exposed
beneath the rolling waves
I am sand surrendering to
the pull of the rolling tide
with no where to hide the
towering waves sweep me
up into the mouth of the beast
who is too weak to hold me
and I am swallowed by the sea.
You are the seawall
a granite buffer between
land and ocean
Hardened with obligation
you stand your ground
when lightning strikes and
breakers crash you do not
back down.
In your stony silence you
are not afraid and that is
the disparity in you and I.
art by Karol Bak
Pristine as the south seas
Those eyes of blue green
An angel without wings
I sent you a message
did it drift out to sea
I’ m watching I’m waiting
On the other side
send me a sign
google art
