The experiencer

I am the experiencer

necromancer too

wizard of the sky

my feet are curved like moons

I taste the surface of this earth

or my imagination

portaling through

dissolution death

seated in soft blooms

innocent

flying inside

spread eagled in my sphere

following the crows

on course

to blue star

heart music

a snaky illumination

a shimmering song

a magnetic tune

falling through my body

filling and rolling my throat

I give birth

an orange large and juicy

shining over billowing thighs

and now

I balance

upon my golden navigation tool

reflect upon me

bouncing through this sweaty life

soft skin of face against your rough sprouting chest

following the blue note

underneath my breast

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I AM Change- 30 Day Change Challenge

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello there, Just interrupting normal erratic poetry postings to let you know about something pretty darn cool

but only IF you are in the mood for some……

conscious

life affirming

permanent

CHANGE!

Sometimes when we are on a conscious journey of self-discovery we hit a kind of plateau where

although we KNOW something needs to give we not sure what or how to go about it.

Well I have put together a course which involves 30 days of diligence  in order to shift your sticky bits 😉 and help you get on with this phenomenon called life.

The program involves tasks, art related and otherwise, focused thought and much much more…come through on this link to watch me ramble on some videos and read more about it 🙂

http://www.wild-woman.com

love, Arna

Colours Of Woman

Hello Friends!

I would love to invite YOU ALL to the release of my online exhibition 

COLOURS OF WOMAN

I hope you can pop through on the link above and join us for a little bit of fine art.

Please remember to leave your thoughts on the guestbook page, 

as an artist striving to better my technique and connection with others, your feedback is of great value to me. 

Feel free to share the link with anyone you may think would enjoy my work, I appreciate the exposure. 

Thankyou for all your support,

Warm wishes and a sky full of fabulous LOVE

ARNA

x

Nightingale Rapture

 

 

She of female colour

works a cherry path

tripping rainbow wind and flaunting a song,

the nightingale rapture…

A bountiful traveller, her bowl swimming,

a vagrant obstreperous kite.

This leonine hue, this invigorated sunrise, she is yolk.

Woman spills from her delicate fingers,

impolite yet forgiven as it falls.

She of 1000 clouds and velvet womb,

a mountain of compulsion.

SHE

a bolt                  of flesh                    silk

I AM Grateful For My Breath

 

 

I breathe the coloured air

cool

like Autumn

morning

teaspoon in a cup.

 

A touching

clear

precision the dawn brings with it,

a focus, an esteem of something new;

like Womanness.

 

‘Womanness,’ he said, just a word, a new word,

or more…

a strange word,

a strange man, but real maybe…..

 

WO MAN (is this) NESS (ecary)

(ecstasy)

(empty)

(balance)

(desire)

desire for balance

desire for Woman ness.

 

Womb…Man…Nest…

more or less

 

I don’t know

let me pause for a moment between

breaths………………….

 

 

 

Stealing People?

 

To ‘steal another woman’s man’…

The phrase is old and unreliable

it reeks of guilty blame

and shying away from responsibility.

 

Stealing; a concept seen cleanly when

speaking of chocolate and cheap jewellry.

Woman; a word associated with shame.

 

The guilty party is not the stolen nor the thief

but the water upon which the woman states her

ownership,

the mobile depths

the lack of firmament.

 

Stealing a man indeed

whoever heard such rubbish.

 

But what speaks here?

 

The use of abstract to deny the fact; the reality of pain in this world of grey matter.

Does it?

 

Matter I mean, really… DOES it?

Do we kill the abstract also, with our guilt.

Our need to claim, to drive our stake through someone elses heart?

 

It’s not as though I picked him up and put him in my pocket,

then scurried home to get him out

and thrill at my bold action with delight.

 

Or do we make real the theft

by doing just that in our lonely mind?

 

Is the purety of experience lost

in the hackles of a jealous thought?

From Man To Woman

From Man to Woman                                                 Arna Baartz *2006

 

Beautiful and kind

heart open wide

like womb

or

time,

soft

edges undefined.

Man is here

wants to be

loved we see…..to exist is all.

Making the rough

the tough

spearhead,

the phallic reaching, mother womb

fertile fields a sad man’s tomb.

A question soft and true;

See me? I see you. Please see me? I’m here too.

Out of hand,

far too grand and now we’ve lost the point.

A blood-tipped point,

the taste of salt,

a rusty thing no-ones fault.

Beautiful and gentle

a cry…..short and true;

See me? I see you.

Please see me,

I’m here too.