Night was elongation of berry-red urge
carrying your words like wisps of clouds–
I watch as they mouth your name
every emotion that has ever erupted within me
in raisin black.
I have been halved and cored,
held on to every thought as you kiss my lips
while they retort–
my torment is one of freckles upon blood oranges,
their vital force
pulled apart so that cloying would last; would last.
Photo credits: Thomas Saliot, Pinterest
“I have been halved and cored,” from Perennial by Kerry O’ Conner ❤️
Posted for Weekend Mini-Challenge: 13 Poetic bits of kerry @ Real Toads
Oh! a kiss plucked out from the dark seed,
impregnable and one that blooms only in tangent.
True love whose fire by far burns brightest,
is often much like finding a needle in a haystack.
Your presence curls around me, thick as smoke
encircling in deliciously dark indecision.
Stay a little longer, come and watch
dropped down, he who hid blurring his image, an illusion.
Hidden within the warm, earthy depth
my love, though false, come and blow a kiss to the flower.
Photo credits: Silence, Marta Bevacqua on Behance
Posted for Sanaa’s Challenge: My final prompt @ Real Toads
also Posted on the Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub
I stand surrounded by mist of a bygone period,
the dark ocean
illuminating clouds of deepest charcoal–
could the impossible ensue so as to strip me of thoughts,
twisting and turning
attempting to drown me with their whispers
low and false–
amidst the chaos there shines a brilliant ray of hope
from the lighthouse of the Pharos,
and though its vociferation is diffused
there is something about that place that ushers
a gush of strength inside of me,
rimmed with a lambent pandemonium of magenta dreams–
carried by the wind,
I sleep laden with promises of tomorrow on my pillow.
Photo credits: Pharos ~ Kerry O’Connor
Posted for the ‘Art collaboration in December’ @ Real Toads
And Posted on the Pantry of Poetry and Prose @ Poets United
The wind perhaps is most perceptible when we speak of change,
blowing empty thoughts to keep my glass refilled–
somewhere, someone’s heart beating for me, cares.
And when I sense you must be there,
my pulse quickens–
I would’ve followed a prettier road but that would’ve left no chance
of meeting you,
trickling slowly down the shaft of an incense candle
or what’s left of it really
I would’ve clung to familiar things had the prospect of appearing false
not occurred to me.
Ah, what then broke through? What once was sewn with a needle–
Perhaps my lips have always hungered for the taste of danger,
of metamorphosis delicately coating my tongue,
you know I do, don’t you?
Photo credits: Marta Bevacqua, Drifting down to the ground
Posted for Midweek Motif ~ Changes @ Poets United
My love for you is a rose almond. Luscious and creamier than milk, itself.
Sliding into sleep, I search for you. Am I deluded? Do you feel the same?
A luscious rose almond. I search for love that is creamier than milk, itself.
Sleep, itself is deluded. Do you feel I am sliding? The same? And into you?
Do you feel sleep is a search for you, itself? And love a rose almond?
Am I sliding into the same? Luscious and creamier than milk, do you
Sliding as a rose almond into luscious milk, am I creamier than love, itself?
I am deluded. And I search for you. My love, do you feel the same? Sleep.
My love is sliding into sleep. I search for rose almonds and creamier milk.
I am the same. Love, itself is deluded. Luscious than you? You feel?
Deluded, I am sliding into rose almond sleep. And you feel the same.
You search for love, luscious and creamier than milk, itself. My love.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Kim invites us to write inspired by Wendy Cope’s poem “The Uncertainty of the Poet.”
Posted for Weekend Mini-Challenge: The Uncertainty of the Poet @ Real Toads
Posted on Pantry of Poetry and Prose @
Morning thickens around us, like verses, full of meaning
consumed with thought are kissed a brilliant white,
and I, in deepening admiration surrender
rapt in the poesy of your philosophical being,
perhaps I belong to you
to what seems lost but is a gentle remnant unfound–
I listen to your words,
to change in breathing pattern, your chest rising
until my ribs are filled with your beauty, your curves,
your scent, your skin —
I have instructed the heart to become accustomed
to lesser than rosy-eyed slumber.
Perhaps this is a failing of mine,
these silent reveries that seep from a corner in my mind,
as if ripe berries
weeping complaisance when plucked by hand–
let the breeze amble by
touching us and drifting over soft air
you just might be every kind of worthwhile
I have ever known.
Photo credits: Immerse by Karina llergo
Posted on Bits of Inspiration ~ My story @ Real Toads
& Posted on the Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub
& Posted on Monday Writes @ My Blog – Verses