Once upon a warmer day
When the air is sweet
With the unveiling of fall
Winter has yet come to burn
Frosty twin roses
Onto the softest of flesh
Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
Sometimes a smell will wash me in blurry nostalgia
To a time and place unfamiliar to my memories.
I believe these are one of my many other lives lived.
Coconut Trees
Sunshine kisses the tent with warm delight,
Birdsongs chorus about with melodic chime,
Brazen sienna behind sleepy lids burn bright,
Alas the deep breath of morning time.
Out of the tent crashes in waves
The magnetic, teal twinkle of unrelenting strength,
Even the fittest who chooose to tango, crumlbe like sand caves
The eternal lesson learned is to surrender at length.
Consciousness is rattled by the chilling oceaniz breeze,
Pale fingers fiddle with twifs nad leaves,
Unlike the nature of the tropical Hawaiian ease,
Breath falls still as the rising fire relieves.
I love you, Earth Mother, for your beauty.
Thank you, Universe, for your infinity.
Ignorance
I recall moments I spoke from an impression of cool
Only to feel the burn of shame hot on my cheeks
The imprint of heat casting a vital lesson
Artist: Inspired by the Art of Ursula Sternberg
1/
I want life ot be tangible
And warm like a river of people
Space is the passage of time
I may wish to swim upstream
And find an old friend gaily smiling to meet me.
Hello child self, do you still recognize me?
I hope you are proud of the magic
which twinkles in these dark eyes holding you
I love you so,
2/
I want
When you see my art,
You wonder about the fullness of my life
Tatse the sweet nectar warm against your neck
Feel the racing heart dampened by a thunderstorm
I hope you consume through my lens and
Yearn for life
And live.
A Wretched Game of Endurance
Someone left an icy blanket between us and the bedsheets
We slept on
Of course you notices the cold
Of course I curled further into my ribcage
Then came morning and we went on
Chill clinging to our being, our chemistry
Then we crawled back onto those sheets
Trembling—bracing ourselves
But, why?
Silent Car Rides
How many lumps in my throat did I have to swallow
In the name of this love?
Choking my airway with its lead, heavy cannon
Balls swollen with sadness and heartache
Noise
What is all this noise?
Adopt modern and skew the chaos into whiteness but the restlessness remains
It’s frantic
I preach meditation and cry to the moon,
A lone wolf anxiosly tailing the. pack
Then there’s you
In your puddle of gold
I’m drawn to that warm puddle
Forced to acknowledge the wetness on my paws
Forced to breathe it in because this is something I want to be here for
There’s just you, me in you
Being in this sunny meadow
Silly me, you tune my radio to earth instead
The melody is beautiful
How did I forget the frequency?
Since when did the buzz become my default?
Ahh so much better
Did you hear the mountains?
It’s been a wet winter, my love.
For Mothers of Daughters Who Have Become Strangers
I stretch myself thin, flat on a canvas so you may easily perceive me
I polish and polish the painting, as if you were the commissioner
Erase all my depth, my warmth, my being
I am just a failed forgery of her design
I carry you with me
A vintage mirror distorted and yellowed
Each generation prior having given a dissatisfied twist
The brass straining my anxious wrist
My young vines reach for your great trunk,
But like razor blades your bark leaves me in shreds
Still I am drawn to you like the moon reflecting the sun
I forget—and see the floor is littered with broken
Your plumage providing shelter from the storms, I learn,
I can only bear from afar yet
I beat my paper wings against your dense canopy
They tear in the struggle but I know the taste of open skies.
One day I felt around and found a hardened spot,
just beneath my soft flesh, a rotten pearl I’ve made of you
An alien within me, I despereately preserved
I suppose I’m afraid of letting you go
When we’re forced together because our souls are forever entangled,
I harden and empty it of my precious
My Soul flinches in anticipation of you
I want to love you.
When
What happens when something colorful is
locked in a brown box?
Does it fade, die of yearning?
Conjure, bewitched?
Daydreamers are born.