I am water
rushing downhill seeking hollows to pool
I find a round space to bed with the moon
one day I awaken
my water is hot
don’t look they said
you will go blind
more art ??? http://www.artofkundalini.com
Tag Archives: emotion
Child
It’s the way the ocean slides
from your eyes
Slides over lips still full
Rounded and soft
for kissing
(me)
And your arms hang happily never tiring
you climbed a mountain
child,
there you sit an apex
A world of beauty
born from rust
(Infused)
with turmeric and sun
and these vessels sporting
creatures like you
throngs
tsunami’s
schools
of small
rapid things
of heart led dancing
and yet
straw still spins
and the doors
are blowing in the wind
see more art? > http://www.arnabaartz.com
The Shame Game
A game of shame
a shame game.
Solitaire.
I’m game if you’re game
are you (game)
little rabbit?
Can two play?
Dirty names
Sick, lame, filthy, fat,
shame
I’ll show you yours, if you show me mine,
SHAME
that is.
My secret
consciousness
MINE
alone
Small and smelly
down
beneath
From mother to daughter
I do bequeath:
the shame of before
under the floor
close to shore
go to war.
I am
shame,
always the same.
I’ll show you the rules of this tight little game
COME ON
play with me!
It’s not so fun without the pain,
always the same
all ways the same.
~
~
shame finger pointed
a smoke screen activated
two can
not play
shame,
a
personal
denial.
only one may decide
only one
can play.
Shame
a
personal
hand
held to chest
a flush
of love
of self
What AM I
?
My Heart Pocket
I must say thank you to the wonderful Jennifer Bullis for her inspiring tribute, created in response to a series of art work I did in which I posed the question ‘What Would Fall Out If The Heart Were A Pocket and We Were Each Turned Upside Down?’
Please pop over at her blog Poetry at the Intersection of Mythology and Hiking to read her work and see her poem, a poem that installed a sweet ache in my own heart……… What Would fall Out, If The Heart Were A Pocket, and We Were Each Turned Upside Down’
Dare I pose the question, dear readers; what are you keeping in your pockets?
My Heart Pocket
Little things,
that fit
in the deepest spots
the sweetest spots.
Big things that shouldn’t and can’t but do,
things bigger than even I.
And now with the rushing and flooding
of life gathering under the crown,
of gems past, present and
tomorrow’s sun,
alongside the shoving and pooling
of desperate rust and magenta survival,
there is a tinkling and a thudding,
a shining and a burrowing.
A pyramid of sugar
of slowly melting crystal
beneath
my upturned gaze.
Dry Water
Dry……
over nothing not something
………………..
blank look
dusty tongue,
paper dry
underfoot,
toes shy
away…. …. …………
too dry.
Mind hiding
empty fear
parched
impressions,
left
here.
Falsely still,
chalky
friction.
A
void?
Something (forgotten) not nothing……
something
rushing,
filling,
flowing choking
not dust but,
wet
thick
deep
water
dirty,
water
clean
wet
growth
primordial damp
hiding
mossy bones,
and…………………,
teeth.
Wet R U S H E S
silver baubles streaming……
ruthless blue,
clearly
waiting
relentlessly.
.
.
patiently. . . . . .
under dry
water.
Rain Like Love
Rain like
love drop
on my fingertip, on the green
sliding leaf
silver pregnant
rain
drop
on my nose
falling
love
full drops join and frolic
silver lost in swirling brown
eddy’s of emotion, silver to brown and back again
beauty on lashes, before the
eyes
always changing ,moving
water thick with being,
too slippery to hold
like love
the closest I get is to skin
but it is the water the love the rain within
I seek to contain but cannot.
