Tag Archives: emotion

sunmoonawakening

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

24852203_10155850819973290_3736126163215723967_n

more art ??? http://www.artofkundalini.com

 

 

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

1512401_775383479195866_1692141154345386691_n 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.