the fabric of my bones
these places that weave in and through to you
where evergreens whisper, liken their leaves to call
in broken trails now enchanted, blushing blooms braiding to my heart
to ravens licking moonlight, in romantic song
the fabric of my bones
these places that weave in and through to you
keeping you close, keeping you whole
for me to remember, for you to kiss my soul
Blackmill-Gaia
Image by Brian Kirhagis
-just breathe-
i need not escape
these parts of me in their lean
as they seek your sun
-just breathe-
no matter the tense
it is you that owns my thoughts
present, past, future
If you are an outdoor enthusiast, hiking the Narrows in Zion National Park is most likely on your bucket list, and for a good reason. The Narrows, or…
HIKING THE NARROWS IN ZION NATIONAL PARK – ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW — Yvonne’s Travel Blog
the darlings,
those little fledglings below
how they tickle my feathers,
tame my song
as earthen creatures try to plot an escape
from my fickle fancy of chase
Today’s prompt for National Poetry Writing Month was to imagine yourself an object or animal and write from their perspective. I chose a bird, full of moxy in his morning view awaiting breakfast.
Robins are always about and often as I watch from my picture window (where I captured this image) I see personalities flutter about. Some brazen, some bossy, some blending in with the leaves. Others all business while fledglings at heart give way to wing spirited games.
raindrops from the moon
adorning the old oak tree
violet dreams weeping
I wait for this beauty to bloom each spring and as the years grow, she becomes more and more breathtaking. Wisteria, with its striking scents of honey and vanilla (at least those are the notes I pick up), symbolizes new life, love, sensuality and expanding consciousness.
For more of my flora photography you can visit my gallery here.
-just breathe-
the stages, the ages of her wild
where blooms now carelessly blow
across this blank slate, where her childhood began where it took root to grow
where barefoot runners got tangled up in bee parades
and crepe myrtle breezes stole the show
giggling sprites in the night carrying dreams, in softest blushed glow
where farmlands had peas to be shucked
and corn stalks reached for the sky
running through the rows, chasing birds knowing she too could fly
the stages, the ages of her wild
where blooms now carelessly blow
across this blank slate, where her childhood began where it took root to grow
now gone, now quiet, stolen by careless flames
she goes back to listen, to quietly reminisce
to ghosts of a childhood, those small moments of bliss
For NaPoWriMo month where the prompt given was to create a poem with a specific place in mind, incorporating concrete details like street names, distances, types of flowers, trees etc.
I chose my childhood home that was taken by a fire. The image i captured is how the empty lot stands today. Thank you for visiting and reading and for more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.
