a lucid glass
a delicate touch
one diamond perfume curl of
in my hand
lu m i n o u s
I am a whirling in a yellow dress,
outstretched on whimsy breeze,
curious feet dangle in mahogany drawers, lost in big hats and shoes,
dreaming of a tall lady with red lips and a confident arse.
High notes flutter through my gold ribbed fabric,
I am singing the wise lines
and long leaping smiles.
My sun skirt flares on a world of
enraptured by perfume swans, scarves
and his old wallet ,
a musty book,
a love story.
I am sweeping through Grandma’s sugar days,
heart wrapped in silk gifts, touching on yesterday,
stitch by yellow stitch.
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
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
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
my upturned gaze.
In the Apple tree after lunch, he sat.
His eyes shimmered and I was a mermaid.
I am what you think I am he said to me.
I am the sea.
I am the shells that shine a maternal pearl.
I am the tears that taste the corner of your lips.
I am salt and air.
I am the dark, red dirt of Earth’s womb.
I am you.
Touch me, lick my surface, bite into me like the apple that I am.
He turned his face away as if to gather his thoughts or breathe.
Then looked into my eyes, storm intense, a shocking lake of liquid fire.
There is nothing between us…..he said and I began to cry.
Not a thing, he repeated, to separate our being .
He pulled me onto his branch then, in the Apple tree, will you sit with me?
The golden hairs on his body dancing in the sun.
And I did
on the tip of God’s tongue.
All That Glitters Is Not Gold
it is all just bullshit anyway.....
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
Haikus Senryus and Tankas about anything and everything
musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry
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Scripting the desires that are soul deep
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The Poetry Monarch.
Daily blog posts on life, death, and everything in between.
Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!
Pain goes in, love comes out.
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