Pink Moon ~ Part One: The upside of the in-between

Tossing and turning I drink the moon,
its tempestuous breath melding with my own—
I find the concept of ‘averting one’s gaze,’ slightly bewildering;
do they? Really?
Is that why we choke on reality?
Now that winter has moved on and the wind is ushering
apple blossom trees;
they never tell us about the brittle, naked limbs that stretch high
in the icy abalone sky—
I am slipping, stepping gradually through
the intricacies wedged within Spring are too small to see—
poetry after dark,
I want your lips, eloquent in their desire for a better world.
Leave me a note,
a whisper, a taste that follows into the stream of consciousness;
who can resist rejuvenation?
You set the pace for words to bloom, undismayed
I feel everything deeply: intentions, auras, acumen, flavours, nuances.
Is this not what the moon intended for us?

 

 

 

Photo credits: ‘Between,’ Painting by Mara Light, Pinterest

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United

Being a woman in times like these

Softly contumacious, embed the sun into our veins
it’s necessary
the blackness forms a sort of primeval aversion:
are we not entitled?
The rustling leaves whisper to each other
unraveling
a story in their breathing;
“She was warned. She was given an explanation.
Nevertheless, she persisted.”
The simple sweetness of existing isn’t enough,
consolidate the orange torch of twilight
into our words,
the kind that enables others to find their own courage—
stretching out in front of me like a map
are approaching centuries,
its grid lines darker than threat of biodiversity;
I never understood
why rhetoric should remain outside the chambers,
are we not competent?
I have an answer against the anti-rhetoric of philosophers,
my tongue
a thin sliver blade raised; “let us, by all means, be lucid.”

 

 

 

Photo credits: Stanka Kordic Painting, Pinterest

Magaly invites us to write inspired by the quote from the description of “Nevertheless, She Persisted,” a flash   fiction collection published by Tor.com 💝

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

Chaste Moon ~ Part 3: Consistency under all the phases

Parables.
Isn’t that what the moon teaches us?
Forever tainted by deaths
and entrances,
its pout is invisible to the naked eye—
you strike to me as the dreamy type
and for reasons unknown
I am led deeper into your web.
A shadow of a dream, I think back to days of innocence
wandering the streets unaccompanied—
I walked in Spring,
dripping willows, old oaks and poplars;
one needs to go slowly,
know that soft tendril of whispered nothings means only
to tease us—
I am no longer fragile,
my pen dipped low in salted conversations;
the moon is aware of ballads resting upon our lips
the only question is,
can we tell the truth apart from lies?
The essence of my hot pink lipstick stain never betrays.

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Salt, conversation, parables,
ballad, death
and entrances 💝

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United

Chaste Moon ~ Part Two: Blue Pause

The moon swallows everything;
seeking on every lover’s lips,
emptiness
how hefty the hours are—
you want bedlam to cease, don’t you?
I could use anything that gives me respite;
even the simple promise of Spring
from afar.

The cups are stained, murmurs unheard
never come off;
how merciless the eye of storm—
ravishing the masses and puffing them away
like smoke,
does this mean the world is ending?
There is no quick explanation,
things are becoming worse
and worse as we brood and sit here talking—
you put the sugar in coffee’s breath and it’s moist
with creamy, frothy conviction.

Dejection snarls at us with its teeth,
sharp
with a less than fragrant inheritance— who is it for?
The masses. Not necessarily a country,
or region in particular,
its unreturning tides are meant for everyone;
spreading what’s likely to be a blue pause—
you soothe me,
far beyond what Poetry can describe
in a time
when blood contaminates the ground;
I can hope to forget.

 

 

Click here if you wish to read Part One

Photo credits: Pinterest

This week, I am inviting others to write poetry or prose
using
a literary device known as Hypophora.
Come join us! 📝

A Skylover Wordlist:  Merciless, cream, fragrant, ground
teeth, inheritance 💝

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

& Posted for Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub

Ode to Dark Chocolate

I love dark chocolate;
the kind that melts into your mouth,
with a hint of black cherry,
as I lounge and breathe in the salt air—
I know what you are thinking,
what could she possibly have to say
about chocolate
that hasn’t already been said?

Listen,
I am floating amid cream clouds,
hearing his voice as dark as licorice,
as orange marmalade with deep and intense
cocoa flavour—
I can almost make out the fragrance,
merciless
in its act of seduction—
tell me, which ground will mortality hide beneath?
Dark chocolate,
many have laid their heads drinking whiskey
outside a shrine—
toss me the moon, as I observe the night sky darken;
a tortoiseshell cat chase a fallen leaf.

Can it be so that I may write until the world ends,
Poetry, my genetic inheritance,
hard hitting
as dark chocolate when it comes in direct contact
with the tongue.
I dislike people who kick others in the teeth
especially now
when the world for compassion is in dire need—
dark chocolate is camaraderie,
how we exert it determines its texture and taste.

I prefer to eat while watching the news,
it helps to soften the blow—
dark and shadowy is hope but it’s there nonetheless,
there is no escape from fear,
from hatred
and from ignorance,
but humor me
while I indulge by tearing apart a large piece of it;
listen to the hammering of centuries—
love, I swear something big is coming towards us;
are we prepared?

 

 

Photo credits:  Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist:  Merciless, listen, shrine, escape,tortoiseshell, teeth, inheritance, cream, ground, fragrant 💝

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United