player haiku
first, you touched my heart
i let you touch my body
you stopped touching both
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with a song
winter arrived with a song (and a roar!) the turning wheel brought new light (and lusciousness) hearts drawn on steamed windows (with music and delight) like a dervish, i whirl! like a primrose, I open! the honeysuckle is a tangle of naked branches (summer, a distant memory)
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art | creativity | inspiration | poetrypurple is
Purple can be the color of mourning
And the color of the irises that I once planted in my mother’s garden.Share this:
- art | divine | grace | mystery | photography | poetry | self-excavation | the delicious now
liminal
liminal woman peering into unseen spaces (swimming) stripping bare hidden agendas (treasure in truth) delighting in the scent of autumn and violent rain crashing against (everything) stirring love and spice into her soup (and life itself) greeting the light embracing the darkness (like a lover) liminal woman seeing only circles smiling at the boxes (illusory)
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an addiction haiku
in bed with thoughts of pleasure dripping deep inside lusting for morning coffee
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the heart's seeds of fire
What sower strode across the earth, Which hands sowed The heart’s seeds of fire? Like rainbow’s bands they went out from his fists To the frozen ground, young earth, hot sand And there shall they sleep Greedy, and drink up our life And break it into pieces For the sake of a sunflower you don’t…
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blessings of existence
The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably….
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