honeyed

honeyed

my darkest desire you awoke

staining my lips

with honeyed words

soothing my tongue

between every pause

…..the wildflower blooms

the romantic in me always weaves itself with nature. this time of year, especially this time of year when we are on the cusp of new buds poking their innocent heads out, transfixed, seduced even by the warmth of the sun, i am bewitched by all that is around me. a reminder of everlasting life, patience, and faith with a hopeful gaze upon the future. i can’t help but think this is why we poets flock to nature in its rawest forms. a succulent to lips when a mind is starved. this particular image was taken in my backyard hiding amongst the dandelions last spring. for more of my floral photography you can visit my gallery here.

barter

barter

for it not for the incantation wielding me

to adjourn my eyes to the unlit of day

where the air smells different,

and the clouds, those unrestricted teardrops

fall willingly to my sides

the easiness that comes for some so easily would not stroke my anxiety

it is then, i for a time, become still

through a traveler’s eyes i reside

sailing upon the open sea

gazing up to the heavens, tracing constellations with Corvus as my guide

carving a path, filling pockets with celestial tokens

to barter with the seeds of the day

to forsake a Godspeed in me

Spirit of Life-Blackmill

i am ever thankful to have the ocean in my backyard as i often turn to her not so much to soak up the rays but to walk its shores, letting the salty freeness that clings to the air fill my lungs. it is then, like magic, a balance returns. i again am ready to take on the day and all its “seeds”

playing with grayscale this day at the beach paid off i think with this image and as a result carved these words from me.

thank you for reading and for more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.

chorus

the chorus

of a forest

meek

and how it seeds

an essence

forgotten

captured this image with my Canon T7 during a summer hiking trip along the Blue Ridge Parkway of the Blue Ridge Mountains. the shades of green easily found me in my own private hideaway, upon a sleepy hollow of steadfast dreams. for more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.

-just breathe-

opposition

opposition

i slip between the grains of you

to countless steps forward, in darkness imposed this landing

i fight with worlds that seem to go and bend

beyond our thoughts left now standing

a distant quake of loves of lives tunnel their webs about us

the battle cries from paths we chose a braiding of winds superfluous

a wildness clings to bruised skies above there meandering words left unattended

to drain the thoughts of happenstance and stake that which is befriended

a common ground of an understanding, of loners to the waking

of eyes to paths deemed monstrous roads

yet wait for us the making

tis not a journey written nor meant to be daintily transcribed

we need not search or wait for it for we shall know for once we have arrived

it is here that i slip between the grains of you

where courage need not be a guide

simply in that knowing

a destiny awaits there within, above and below to the other side

Who We Are-Electus

just breathe

fog

fog

with no harness to my soul

screams ride the fog

in weightless

freefall

I love this time of year when the foliage explodes into an artist’s wonderland. It is no wonder fall has eternally become a season of inspiration for poets and artists alike. Trying my best to get out as much as I can to capture nature’s metamorphosis. For more of my photography you can view my gallery here

train rides

train rides

hitchhiking to these, my forgotten spaces

thumbs up to the clouds waiting for the train to catch that wind

the bell tolls silently so to those who listen

to those with no fear of letting go

i cradle my bag, my makeshift courage kit

to wander now needlessly to where the leaves blow, where they seem i shall fit

always the backseat traveler i still shan’t take the helm

for it not my eyes that lead, but my heart that swells

i follow where it takes me, perhaps to dead end roads

pulling out my kit with compass to direct me as best it knows

ye of little faith, the reclusive voice no more

for those journeys once forgotten i now ready the score

days absent of sunlight, of curtains drawn

now places me on this train, piercing through dusty windows all those what ifs now gone

IrisU2

I photographed this image along the Blue Ridge Parkway, Milepost 34. I categorized it within my abandoned photography as what you see here is the remnants of an old logging railroad. Although it is abandoned it is not forgotten and is visited quite frequently among hikers and travelers alike and offers a serene, picturesque moment to step back in time. Thank you for reading. For more of my nature and abandoned photography please visit my gallery here.

just breathe

harbour

harbour

drifting in this cosmic womb of rain

to you, this harbour beneath the shore

my mind resigning its weight, a bare jewel afloat,

to kelp fields, dense and fragments dark,

guiding in this underwater dance floor

traversing through your canopies wild

seasons unfold before my eyes

gardens spring blooms from a winter’s release

while the sequoias of the sea lend me their lean, serenely keen to the sun drenched skies

cerulean paves these streets of peace

as buckets of wings residing beneath the sails of tide

to antiquities void of a pirate’s lore

filling my lungs along this cathartic ride

straying further and further from the salty fits that marry my skin ashore

i fall deeper and deeper into this estuary

where a love evolves, where my heart explores

slipping into frocks left behind of mermaids best

the ballroom awaits as i untether my weathered steps

to which it replies, please, be my guest

swimming anext urchins as they needfully feed

watching otters safely sleep between the holdfast trees

i am but a visitor but a resident akin

to this underwater sanctuary that wishes me au revoir

after welcoming me with ease

This piece was inspired from watching the documentary, My Octopus Teacher featuring the kelp forests of South Africa. Filmmaker and photographer, Craig Foster begins a year long journey studying and ultimately befriending an octopus living within the kelp forest. It is beautiful and heartfelt as well as an educational piece that I would recommend giving a watch.

In writing this I imagined and truly listened to the testimony of Foster of just how magical skin diving and traversing through this underwater garden becomes to the soul. Daily stresses seem to become weightless, as trees, anchored and wise, become our guides.

The images shared within this piece are that of Foster captured during his journey within the forests in South Africa.

Kelp forests, these beautiful underwater oasis’s, are endangered, mostly so by threats from fisheries, marine pollution, invasive species and climate change. If you’d like to learn more about the ambassadors of the sea check out Sea Change Project. The group, of which Foster is a member of, is striving to educate and protect the ecosystem that is a sanctuary and home to many marine animals and wildlife.

Thank you for reading.

Harbour-Sohn

just breathe

aionion

aionion

the scent that bemoans me of a dying rose

not of death inferring, but of life preserving

through its folds it clutches senses

charting courses through darkened, rusted fences

or atop mountains shedding waterfalls as a love commences

unyielding layers, partaking of endless shades anew

unfurling through time, a slow peruse

all in a smell, as my imagination ensues

Transylvanian Lullaby-Erutan

inspired by the roses my daughter received for her graduation, i captured these images and as the scents enraptured my senses, the thoughts came. how beautiful a dying flower is to me. how even in its seemingly decay, behind the scenes, beneath the folds, life still breathes.

thank you for reading and for more of my flora photography you can view my gallery here.

braids

braids

the fabric of my bones

these places weaving 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 lush romantic song

 

the fabric of my bones

these places weaving 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

 

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