Winter Calling #Calling #writephoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Strength reigns through the barren land

of naked limbs exposed to time

Without adornment horns lift the true

self and eyes peer through darkness

to find life in stillness. What would be frozen

softly beats the heart’s calling

stirring the fire inside that never dies

it waits with patience for the touch

of green renewal to shake the cold

world back to life

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For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto challenge. Interestingly, as I sat down to write about her photo, I glanced over at my teacup and noticed I had also chosen a stag/ reindeer for the morning. 

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The Copper Doorway #WritePhoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

The Copper Doorway

If you think death waits

for you at the end

of the long road

oh weary traveler, turn

back into the tunnel of darkness

to sweep the membrane clean

 In the black space hear the symphony

of life surrounding you and the Mother’s

breath singing the leaves

back into her body

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt. To participate, click here

 

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#Murmur #WritePhoto #Poetry

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Murmur

I am the murmur in your heart

One thousand wings flutter you

awake. I am the golden kiss opening

your lips. My breath reaching inward

searching your darkness with light. I am

the sun, but also the moon. Night dancing

inside of you breaking dawn

into filaments of truth

witnessing the glory

of you rising to meet

me

 

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s weekly photo prompt. If you would like to participate, please click here.

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Frozen #WritePhoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Frozen

In the midst of a world that appears frozen

follow the purple path within

Know that beyond the shadows holding darkness

there is always a source of light

reflecting truth. Waiting to melt the way

as it softens the heart that would stay cold

Indifference is the face of fear grown tired

Used to the battered landscape, the eyes refuse to see

the false hold. And so we remain frozen together

in stasis, an inert body wanting to be held

until the fever burns once again

into love

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #WritePhoto prompt. Click here to participate

 

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Gardens of Roses #poetry

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Gardens of Roses

My grandmother visits me in the garden

as I cut dead limbs from the azalea

I can smell her soap and perfume

The love I once longed for

opens the pores on my arms

She knows there are roses

newly planted. The dirt turned over brown

wraps their roots in memoriam. In the hidden

chambers of my ears I hear her voice

calling “Leethie” and we smile

together through time

Despair #Poetry

 

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Despair

Last night I watched a ship disappear

one life, followed by another, until the last

was swallowed by water lidded with ice

nothing left behind but despair

They say pay attention to colors

in dreams, the screen before me looming

in shades of gray and white while I stood

a part of the spectrum of rainbow light with my son

in the shadows. This lesson on despair

sinking before us and I feeling only

hope

 

Baba Ghanoush #poetry

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

Baba Ghanoush 

 

I barely slept, although sleep gave me dreams as proof

before I crept downstairs and slipped

into the haze of slow time. Sometimes the body’s rush is ceased

by the unseen hand. Acceptance the only release. Late

yesterday, the deer returned in a pair to eat fallen apples

but the dog ran through my distraction of the cat

who watched without movement. Stilled in time

Before breakfast, I opened the door to pull weeds

thinking of how fast they grow and take over

space. When I ate late, the waffle was cold

and I left the table feeling undefined

noting the softened eggplants on the counter

One the color of the hidden eye

the other mottled by the crown. I brought the pair outside

turned the grill’s surface into a flame, and roasted

their skins black, peeling after the insides liquified

thinking of caterpillars and butterflies, I pulsed

their remains with tahini, smashed cloves of garlic,

the juice of half a lemon, and pink salt from a faraway sea

until the house smelled of baba ghanoush and my thoughts

turned once again to night and shade and whether you can have

too much darkness, and how the sun in excess

blinds the eyes to sight