But now in September the winds have changed, and with them my quintessence

Nasturtiums in a jar,
the petals in the water sit almost perfectly still,
when with faded dreams you came to me
and I whisper to you
as one driven by thought of nature’s implicit language
I want to fill the empty parts with comfort,
stretch towards you with my soul singing
as ache, a never-ending spiral, slips through the fingers-
the flowers remind us we can withstand any condition,
incredibly pink as they touch the lips.

 

 

Photo credits: The Mythical Art of Amy Judd, Pinterest

Posted on Kerry’s Challenge¬† @ Real Toads

& Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

As shades of evening lay scattered on the ground

What you love you must love now
lest autumn with speckles of orange, red and brown is blown away
it becomes a song,
every decade or so time allows a pomegranate blush to suffuse the skin
it serves as a hymn for the greatest generation
its slightest touch has most readily at times unlocked my heart
and dauntless
I would have held on if I had known it was the last
I have spent many an evening staring at leaves falling from trees
green at first
and then shortly afterwards with a gentle caress of yellow
I wish to be close to you,
so that the moment they come to rest on the ground
I can toss them high with your hand in mine
perhaps they will make the most of it the second time round.
Remember me as a time of the day
take down photographs taken over passage of years and smile
as we age onward,
I wish to kiss you with breath perfumed with the vigor of rose
when the darkening sky is filled with remorseless clouds
I have learned that hope is just a tiny flicker against the wind
and that we are born different for a reason,
gift me the power of your intense fragility
the strength to overcome constant vacillation around decisions that bind
the eternal struggle
between heart and mind,
I am whispers of ache strewn across flower petals —
what you love you must love now.

 

Photo credits: Underwater Photography by Marta Bevacqua, pinterest

A combined response to Guest appearance from Kenia Santos and Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ Love after Love by Kim Nelson.

Posted for Play It Again (Old Toads) @ Real Toads

and posted for the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Aubade – Death wants nothing more than to teach us kindness

“J” is for Judgement, should the sky deem me worthy
there is little joy in holding fast to pride
to watch darkness moving through a tunnel
I trace my finger upon the stalk of bitterroot
falling out of skin
do we cry or do we pause?
Blown by the soft winds do we fear the rolling rivers
that run dry,
growing up I dreamed of the other side and back
enamored
I raced past red devilry of roses and laughed
I thought how lovely is death,
three words – make it last
every moment, every breath, every kiss and every act
let not the world drown your voice
let not your soul become lost in the cloud chamber,
long after midnight I sit with myself
my thoughts are wisps of lurid blue when outside everything is silent
“what do you care what other people think?”
Wouldn’t you rather waltz down the half moon street,
it’s then that I understand the doe-eyed beauty
the woman in red
though heads or tails is the politics of money
in the end we are equal in the swirling umber blur of dust
and I wonder when we reach the other side of the story,
will you remember me?

 

Photo credits: La Catrina, Margaret Bednar

Book titles: J is for judgement, The Other Side and Back, Bitterroot, Growing up, Make it last,
Cloud Chamber, Long after midnight, What do you care what other people think? Remember me,Half moon street, The Woman In Red, The Other Side of the Story.

Posted for Artistic Interpretations with Margaret @ Real Toads

 

 

And yet how gentle it seems to one raised in a landscape short of rain

The sky is dishwater brown with scrunched up clouds,
like a fallow heart
its light is lean almost discreet as it serves as witness to a world
doubly glazed
and dampened by the passing shadows,
we speak with fire upon our tongues letting go of things we keep
between our teeth
we spill blood in the dark locked behind the sun before dusk.

Describing the air is my soul halved
why must we meld our skin with scraps of things we can never become?
Come cut me like one does a beetroot
I work well with earthy flavours of celeriac and parsnip
the world as we know it is as moisture evaporated, the fibers
developing
a tight-knit, papyrus like surface that can be bleached or stained
with bitter fruit politics,
the mind is a powerful weapon with no remorse.

And not a sigh escapes my lips nor breath mingles with joy
I gaze no more upon golden trees with sun-kissed leaves
why must we hunger for control when so many lives are lost in the process?
Clinging to life is hope
I clutch my chest at the thought of dreams inside a coffin
my pen writes of destruction around the globe.

A prayer was mouthed last night in the fading sound and light
come rise with me
I think of innocents and die with despair growing inside
Poetry cannot be weak at this time
a hilted moon hangs overhead watching the landscape
as night soaked with determination walks me home
I have found everything that I need to make a difference within myself,
this August let us reach out for those who need us
the sky is dishwater brown with scrunched up clouds
but my heart is reluctant to give up.

 

 

Photo credits: Darren Crowley, Pinterest

Posted on Sunday Mini-Challenge @ Real Toads

& Posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United