A distance divides us

What the blood moon stirs, contains you  
a pearl oyster against the lilac clouds

What the sky silvers, turns the past
to water of memories and foam

What the maple trees bare, skins the
night to fragments, fragile by time

The cold wind sands, awakening
me, frozen in our memories

I watch dawn unfold, its fingers threading
a spider web, marbled in infinite blue

To the deepest of the wells
I draw you, scent of shadows & pines

Your image smiles in its pure circle*
But what of your face as I reach to touch you?

It wavers, growing old, belonging 
to another*

Title and line inspired by E. Montale's poem, The Well

(Cigola la carrucola del pozzo)

The pulley of the well-shaft creaks,

water rises to the light and dissolves you.

A memory trembles in the refilled pail,

an image smiles in its pure circle.

Touch your face to evanescent lips:

the past wavers, grows old,

belongs to another…

Ah, how the wheel groans

already, returns you to the dark depths,

vision, a distance divides us. 

Frozen in Water

Photography:   Brooke Shaden

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - We are getting inspiration from by 
E. Montale's work and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~ 

Death wish

water

pulled me quickly

to tides deep & brooding-

a part of me defied the rush

of drowning but the sea opened its arms

pillow soft, the pain receded

gentle as needle prick

i want to fall,

falter

on my own terms

i don't wish for slow death,

for  terrible  decay of  mind

to break me inch by inch, no i want to 

leave with purple blooms on my hands,

with your face close to mine

your love ever

stronger 

The quiet death
Photography:   Brooke Shaden

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar - Hosted by Gay - This is a diamond shaped Quarrels form with set rules ~ I am not sure if I followed it, smiles ~ Please check in later at 3pm EST ~

When your voice is like rain

The sky is a single brushstroke
of aquamarine 
Though many voices speak

Yours is like amber
Yours is like saffron
yellowing my tongue of spice

Even above glass floor 
the wind sweeping the leaves in
tiny islands  

Yours is like violin
Yours is like bow
piercing 
clouds
streak of fire,
veins careening open
pupils dilating in rushing tide

catching me
in autumn's early shroud 
How can I forget your voice?
You ripple all my memories
like whispering birds with nowhere to hide
you
who fly with them

you
who always come back with bluest of plums

Many voices speak.*
Through them all
I hear only yours
falling as a night rain.

     
Inspiration and lines from Karin Boye:   Many Voices Speak

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Sunday's Challenge:  Swedish Poetry hosted by Bjorn Rudberg - We are writing to the poems by Swedish writer Karin Boye

and Poets United

Picture credit:   here

three faces of the moon

moon over basel

Artist:   Claudia Schoenfeld

sketch me a round moon

above grey sheen of city lights

draw long bridge over river

the night is a symphony

silvered blue, when you're with me

~0~0~

ivory & ink

shading the canvas star-strewn:

spirals, patterns, glass

the night is a mosaic

flaring between our bones

~0~0~

moon shading our eyes
river moulting its skin
wind slithering softly-
the sky night thrums, speaking 
a language of its own

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Sketch it Out - Hosted by Mary

Ghostwriter

Waiting for her wolf

Photography:   Joel Robison

pen me a memory
of a gypsy wolf

dark golden fur
streaking across forest

thick of bird cries
piercing marsh-waisted oak trees

set her pulse
beating madly as red moon climbs

& rides the sky
hard, there's no holding back

hunger in eyes nor claws
aching for hard flesh & raw blood

spill on white pages
her ravishment of night, musky & salty

split her thighs
into hundred aching valleys, thrilling

to chase & mayhem,   
storm of release & splendor of

rending boundaries apart
they are hers alone to mark & own

or lose
to the one true love who always set her free

frame by frame
capture this moment, poignant as last kiss

she is my kindred spirit
caught in glass cage, wintered by 

fa d i n g
m e m o r   i   e    s



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  I fear losing this voice, my other persona ~  Thanks for indulging me & wishing you happy weekend ~