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Whispers traveled through the valley, restless birds circled the crown of the mountain, and the day came when the juice of berries escaped their skin, eucalypt leaves shrivelled, the rich soil fades, yes there came a day when the life pulse drained away, and the mountain wept and opened her heart and freed all the pain she stored there in her iron heart, see it run down her face, see it run into the rivers, see it wend out to sea, yes, see the rage of the mountain in the eyes of a wave.
I never forget my safety glasses, the debris when I walk outside makes me nervous. Birds swoop and caw. The dove that roosted in the wild Wisteria has left with her babies. Creaks, pops and crackles jerk me out of my daydreaming. I serve coffee to myself and sit with the junk mail and spirit away to dreaming of talc powdered babies and bedtime stories, sandpits and sprinklers in the yard. The plug from the dam is pulled and I am flooded with a thousand little girls. The walkabout spirits call to me and I cannot ignore their songlines. I wander down paths that lead to paths that lead to paths, I sit crosslegged, let the storms ride over me, then walk towards the sun.
~lily
Poetry Bytes, Twitter (@myarspoetica)
i waited for a river and a teardrop arrived
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one heart bursting with energy, a white light breaks into every direction, souls dive for cover, we wait, we hide, we ache to be free
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its a kind of wandering, inside a blue walled cosmos, perhaps a break free cloud, discovering the campfires of gypsies
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this is the age of the unfamiliar / the lamps of prison cells flicker / owls hoot outside the bars / moon is crooning at the little lights
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we lit a fire outside the hay barn, just a little one in the stone circle, we warmed our hands & spoke of cold feet, we put socks on
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sun packed a bag & sidled up to the moon, back to back, they couldn't draw their weapons, they'd left them at home, under the sofa
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rubble rubble, toil and rubble - eyes in your back, the sun is bleating, walk on, think fast, what's around the bend? you don't own me...
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punching cards into the timeline of life -- give me a break
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she sat on the fountains edge, attracted by the glimmer -- momentum in fluid motion -- though most days she wished to be air
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information overload -- mental piracy -- STOP
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a true troubadour, she is stellar when she waves at smoking earth as she rides the tail of comets on her way to the corner store..
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the road to the ranch was dusty, she looked in the rear view mirror, a million dust specks swirling, singing, we have been waiting for you
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the gate had the same creak as always, she stepped through the arch of roses, and stood at the door, with a knock tongue tied up in her fist
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the door opened and her heart fell out, just like that, they would spend the rest of the afternoon picking up little stars from the porch
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sunset glowed on the backs of dragonflies, she walked toward the river where she knew the songs of her childhood moved through the trees
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soft mosses & wild lilies, willow stoops to drawl her long fingers through the cool waters, a frog leaps, a circle of mushrooms quivers
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a blanket folded over her arm, she flings it down upon the pine needles, pulls out her sewing kit & begins to ply a new heart for the world
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driving to the local store, she was distracted by the aroma left behind from the hitchhikers, she stopped the car, opened the door & sighed
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UPDATED September 19 2009
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long ago in a faraway land, there was a cubby in a willow tree, rope ladder up, trapdoor open, bare feet on grass mat, its my world now
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she could see the whole wide world from here, her bedroom window with purple curtains, the puppies playing in the yard, the neighbours swing
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he had always loved the roar of the sea, the ferocity of the breaking waves, he wriggled into his wetsuit and walks toward the horizon
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even when the sun went down, she could still see sunset in his eyes
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She thought to try her hand at Origami. She loved all the folding, the patterns, the repeating. Tracing the lines on her palm.
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Hate was climbing the walls again, time to hunt down her trusty axe, spend a little time chopping into roots. She loved to watch it die.
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couldn't help but notice you were trying too hard. its not easy being invisible. a lot of hand waving won't help, just turn off the light
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'A granule a day' she said, 'soon you'll be building sandcastles'. 'But what about the tide?' she asked. 'Well, nothing is permanent'.
~*~
she stood by his bedside not knowing what to say, she hoped the flowers would say everything
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remember when wonder danced around you,saying, 'look over here! and here! and here!' & little joys were like warm bubbles popping inside you
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UPDATED October 17 2009
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everyone sings happy birthday, the girl with the wild eyes grimaces, the song finishes, she smiles, lighting the candles all over again
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all that glitters isnt gold, glitter is fools gold, glitter gets in2 e'thing & is banned from the house - glitter is sparkly, i love glitter
~*~
the painting started on a canvas, soon there was paint splashed up the walls. she had asked him not to disturb her while she was painting
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steam sent a whistle through the studio, she puts her brushes down and wipes her nose along the back of her hand, she leaves a purple smear
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outlines, outlines everywhere! she wondered if she could fill them in with storms or magnetic clouds, perhaps even blackberry juices
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the words sent shivers down her spine, for the whole next month she would paint only bones
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the canvas that lay before her eyes undulated and shimmered, she wished she could take it home, the view from a plane window
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We said our prayers on the cold slate before the cantata rose out of the mouths of ancient crones
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who could only remember endearment through the telling of dreams by the flush cheeked darlings
~*~
twitpoems by @lilyofoz at @myarspoetica
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~quick on the flutter/by~
I have come back to reclaim my blog from the abyss that i let it fall into. I humbly apologize and promise to nurse you back to health, my poor ((myarspoetica
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Beyond rock piling deeds, I open my eyes, find myself in the city of sighs, exhaling the stars I had imprisoned, and I am spirited to reverie. I have strayed into the theatre of your touch; your kisses vibrate with encore. Cherry lips sublime, with sword of soul, you draw out my mute tongue! Bless the visionary map, the brave passage, traveling with the line of birds; regarding with wonder the entwine of ivy and honeysuckle. All over again, craving the ambrosia fashioned in the press of our fragrant blends. When we appear at the Well of Lightning, the unarranged harmonies shall claim us. Listen, listen to the sailor songs of the Milky Way, feel the caress of breezes, and like the Moon, know that I adore you.
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Comment by Lily
on UNDER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Ars Poetica
i LOVED this part, i read it first as 'drip', which i like better than dip, yolks drip, or are dipped into.. twobobsworth
no sparklers allowed? what? NEVER!!
~lily