A seed

did it rain all day …

did the clouds not part their lead

loaded grey?

your heart mud heavy in the moist

your spirit soaked

in need of hoist

oh how I wanted to be your shelter

but at first i could barely raise

a rusted umbrella frame

my own self in search

of enfeebled ovule to reclaim

a seed set swirlward to shallow drain

till our fingers meshed there

to sieve and save

ourselves

this union, we crave

your name … so shall I engrave

in the dry ground tomorrow

 

Woodsmoke (… a share…)

the woodsmoke of your soul seeps deep into my skin it follows my every move i turn away within there — again it lingers pungent puncture of cold pine air, of vacant love toasted with scent of heart of combustive heat that burns i walk faster until my breath runs to forget is a fool’s […]

via Woodsmoke — Poet Girl Em

 

Rarely, words coincide with feelings of the moment. I can barely speak about this poem, it’s staggering beauty speaks for itself…

With thanks to Emily C  xo

My life as a play

i have lost my taste for the everyday

a maudlin, empty theatre play

scenes dehydrate…

the set walls slide away

and

dramatic briskness falls bland

exit directed by a lone stage hand

doors bolted

 

seeking solace instead

i seek a grander outdoor stage

my soul bindle wrapped tight

grasping firmly, this new page

so captivating a script

 

in which

I wander along barren sands

an enlightened journey to me

as ocean laps, rubbing stones to shine

a hand reaches ever gently for mine

and we walk

untethered to place

and time

us two, centre stage

under warm spotlight shine

Depleted

in these canyons of craving

we shuffle as

shadowed silhouettes

shallow footprints never settling

under a stinging desert shamal

squinting through silica scathing

with sand grit mouth

our lips pull away

parched, lithic dry…

your pernicious passion contrived

in clandestine contrast

to the sky

which thereafter floods blue

from tears

bathing

true

 

Kismet

when the divine created our star

near eternity we lingered

a somnolence of heaven’s burning

till red, raging

a supergiant

and in the the near, never-after…

us

a supernova sublime

a merging of milennia and molecules

belligerent to time

fiercely fusing

not even destiny to deny

now today

our eyes of umber meet

familiar iridescent irises

peppered with stellar dust greet

for we are of stars

welcome home…

Webbed Feet

in the reflection of trees

leaves blurred, branches muted

the pond is stagnant, without shimmer

monochrome serenity

movement

a sole duckling

abandoned, though unaware

dashes over a lily bed

feathered impatience with webbed feet askew

watched by a dragonfly

atop nearby bamboo

such youthful exuberance

of breathless bursts and pond dashing!

I am the duckling

my immature wings as yet cannot soar

vestigial at best

(for now, let’s ignore)

but I can walk on water my love

eager in my yellow bright

flap, splash come I

toward your

wholesome sunlight

Blossoming

chill me

with ice-tipped fingers

tracing, teasing

tempering …heat from within

and every unspoken whim

attended

 

warm me

with an urgency pressed

between dawn’s fleeting pages

petals reveal

in quivering stages

 

burn me

with passionate phrase

acid etched, irrevocably spoken

in fired whispers

an indelible tattoo, a token

to recall at a late hour

 

with half smile

and full knowing