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come

come

come back with me

let those shy eyes fall

as lips remember the taste

of that place

that glass city by the sea

where birds lent their wings

to kaleidoscope beams

oh how you’d chase

as you soared

high upon those rusty swings

come

come back with me

let us remember my love

what it meant to run wild

how it felt to be free

beyond a heavy heart

back to never ending dreams

where words glittered

as golden as your hair

painting tall tales upon the air

come

come back with me

where tears never knew the way

and the trees

those delicious story tellers

oh the worlds they’d use to splay

come

come back with me

to that glass city by the sea

where waves kissed you true

and getting lost in the rain

was where you remembered

all the parts of you


Listen to me read Come

afterglow

in the perfume of dawn

i sprawl in naked wander

in the wake of he

for his touch sheds my worry

as leaves floating from the fall tree

his kiss returns the waterfall

that bathes the season in me

and i, in budding refrain, need but whisper

please,

please before you leave

won’t you graze my cheek again

for this avalanche he awoke

that roses and roars in my stream,

it nibbles at the thorns

and clings now to his breeze

I captured this image last summer after visiting an area in Southwest Virginia where time seems to stand still and the sounds of nature burst at the seams, demanding your attention. (my kind of place) This small waterfall was a welcoming surprise, tucked into the corner of a trail. Behind me, that unfortunately I cannot find my shot of, I can recall the seemingly and intriguing “march of the mushrooms” in plight to the top of the hill.

There is something about nature that shall always glean my thoughts to that of a woman, in her growth, in her sexuality, in her resilience. My writing craves it. I can only continue to try my best and honor the spirit of that which my senses find and enjoy the journey.

Thank you for reading, and if you’d like to see more of my nature photography, you can find my random images from travels or local trails on my Instagram feed here.

wake

lost in the depths of your lilac blue,

i curl round the stilled river of you

unfurling my buttons

from a winter wed

beneath woodlace and hawthorne

where my heart has fled

across the meadow,

beyond the thistle and dawn’s rise

i am the narcissus in wait

a paled for too long desire

that grows in your eyes

Because springtime always finds me with a desire to explore and discover perhaps a new flower or two, I pulled my camera out a few weekends ago and traveled to a favorite spot for spring blooms and my goodness they didn’t disappoint! Bluebells and tulips and a narcissus or two kept me gazing for a while. I especially loved, when capturing the white tulips, the play of the sun bouncing off their petals. So lovely. I hope you enjoy the view as much as I did.

waltz

the lord of her dawn
in the throes of fire, claims
a waltz in the figments of a hundred shades
that slip between them as invisible rain

as the ash settles in silky psalm
and drops to earth redrawn
they close their eyes to the thin places
and find their lost love song


Driving home with my Mom, during that magical golden hour, as the sun was setting, I kept seeing the trees in their nakedness seemingly as if they were on fire. I couldn’t help but think the scene was as if the trees were caught in a waltz with the sun, serenading them.

The following images are those that I captured. I love this time of year of transition, of rebirth.

one hundred love sonnets xvii : a poem by pablo Neruda

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

listen to me read one hundred love sonnets XVII

synthesis

we etched sonnets on the trees
and drank midnight in the river
every time we held hands

this forest in me

where we carved our initials and etched

sonnets on the trees

where we drank of midnight from the river

gorged of our dreams

….how quiet you’ve become

i trace our letters, i whisper a melody

to the howling wind

i walk our once before path to find

the blush of my cheeks in the river

staring back at me

i call to gray clouds to purge themselves

of our dreams

i wait in the eternity, the kind that lingers

before the rain

and slip between the seasons, in the

hollow of our tree

from navel to breath, the rush of your green

swells within our frozen embrace

and you my love, drape canopies beneath a lavender sun

and return the forest in me.

Virginia in the Rain – Dave Matthews Band

winter gown

she dreams of serengeti

in the folds of her winter gown

where kings and queens cross winds in fertile bliss

parading in raffia robes and organic crown

she nests in the blue of its iris

as amber breath climbs the limbs of every tree,

her eyes rest upon the naked scars of the acacia to her,

a most treasured filigree

with cautious lips,

she grazes the constellations of its time

tracing the curve of its every year

each line fortelling of a resilience

of an unchained wildness to persevere

treading within its thrumming abyss

the fragrance of time stands still

as she drinks of that it holds hidden

in slow doses it does reveal

as copper kisses the horizon

she falls into its lean

the roar of the forest then

claims the beast in she


she dreams of serengeti

in the folds of her winter gown

as the roar of the forest then

stirs eyes awake

anext her waiting crown


listen to me read winter gown

a letter from eros

love is unconditionally true,

as newborn eyes looking back at you


love is quiet, on a rainy day

when holding hands seems to braid colors
into the gray

love is patient, when voice is lost

strength in understanding at every cost


love is a fighter when battles concede

finding equal footing, a tug of war freed


love is clarity when sight is gone

a caress in the dark, curtains drawn


love is loud when tears ignite

a warrior in battle prepared to fight


love is years of day to day

yet living in that first hello
when your lover looks your way

love is simple yet so completely complicated too

as intricate as pieces of a puzzle,

as delicate as the morning dew

love is ageless, knows not of any bounds

worth growing old with

worth walking in the rain to

worth bravely speaking aloud


if love happens to kneel upon your door

greet it gently, sip it slow

for it knows already the way to your core


it need not bound you

no desire to proclaim

you’ll know when it finds you

no matter brief, no matter the refrain


for love is unconditionally true

beyond any scars, eyes that’ll find yours

to see that true you

Listen to me read A Letter from Eros

pneuma

some days i am pretty

where my wild things seem to bloom

other days i chance the mirror to find

dead sea eyes staring back at me


some days i am a ghost

letting the world take hold and strangle me

other days i am a wolf, howling loudly

with every bit of surety


some days i am high heels

the ones with the red bottoms and straps

other days i am a thesaurus with my

glasses and writing pad


some days i am nature

a rainforest that lives and breathes

other days i am a concrete jungle

moving too fast to simply be


some days i am lonely

that pillow that waits for me to curl up in bed

other days i am a mountain

surrounded by birdsong and evergreen trees


some days i am passion

as my thighs spread beneath of him

other days i am that shy awkward girl

hiding my curves and every other insecurity


some days i am a photograph

a sepia static of time caught in rewind

other days i am the camera

living every kaleidoscope dream


some days i am a train

coasting in structured destination

other days i am messy hair dancing

with the wind


some days i am a unicorn

chasing rainbows bare-back

other days i am a list tacked on the wall

full of chores to be done


some days i am all of these

all of these sides of me


other days i’m just me, trying

just trying to be.

Art by Carlos Quevedo
I Like That – Janelle Monae

conceive

letters from the sky

open me slowly

with cursive tongue

tap into my bloodstream

with golden fingertips

and listen as it hums

to be carried away

in the fertile blue of night

be still

take your time

elevate with the colors

to braid with your mind

in fields of gold let fingers stroll

beneath oak gardens and trailing fescue

summon the pages

as they make love with the sun

Slow Motion – Sidewalks and Skeltons
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