Of love and an innocent moon

when pails filled with moonbeams

 

Sit on painted chairs in moon dust

and are cast upon

 

the world, i shall then write

of love

 

pulling words from heart shaped 

lockets on stars

 

laying in fields of midnight sky

you laying covered with dark purple poppies

 

my fingers beneath you caressing

as meadows do of wildflowers

 

my palms walk through moonlight

on your skin yearning to pick petals of color

 

i kiss the rose of your lips.

 

Copyright © 05/22/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

Image

Of a child and an elephant

For Sumi…

Dusk in an Indian village

closed

out the day, allowed

thimblefuls

of cooler air to spill

Fresh

for the night…

it entered carrying

old wooden buckets 

filled

with darkness.

 

The village slumbered,

yet she remained awake

thinking about her friend.

 

She, a child, had a special

relationship above the

Commonplace

with an elephant of the

forest…

at first, they only

exchanged

glances, not enough of

an escape from

their daily chores.

 

How sweet the early morn,

washed as in a bath

by pouring rain

when they 

Entered

a pond,

she was very brave,

full of love –

both full of kindness.

 

Nothing the village elders

could ever

Observe

would equal the 

bond that

this small girl and

elephant 

felt, the sound it

made muted

leaves

rustling in the 

 

A lonely life it now 

led

after she sadly waved 

Goodbye,

left for another

country…

the elephant 

no longer trumpeted,

no longer saw her

reflection 

in the pond, only its own

slowly aging.

 

Copyright © 06/13/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

Image

Of a walk

            A footpath.

 

 

She once read of sand,

            she walks with lack

            of water.

 

 

Braids in her hair, the

            track is smooth.

 

 

She walks, grass grows

            behind her, thirsting.

 

 

The trees have a thousand

            leaves, she does not 

            write of love.

 

 Copyright © 04/08/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

Image

Whispered lives

Pedestrians on sidewalks
waiting for
late buses and worn handles
grasses tall in a field 
swaying,
watching a pretty woman’s face,
shadows underground
underneath 
her feet,
they listen to the sounds of
her soul
city streets covered with
umbrellas and
late appointments.

Flowers in her hair,
wears perfume,
clothes gray and white
a traveler down a dark alley
unfolds a map,
dim dome light feeble
from age,
subway car’s flickering on 
and off
much as children play
with wall switches
passengers step off curbs 
into cabs, meters
like one-armed bandits.

Concrete slabs by streets with
washed off chalk and
hopscotch
look up into a man’s face
and aging clothes,
he hears silent voices
of children…
in his apartment a
window opened,
hears her heart whispering
from misted field.

Tickets written from quick, 
silver parking meters,
torn, scatter into
asphalt breezes and
department of sanitation
brooms
she moves, her feet touching
an imaginary dance hall
floor where they met…
slowly, he closes his window,
a kiss goodnight.


Copyright © 03/26/2014 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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Chitwick in the Forest Down

On oldid parchment with blackink he writes
her
whilst he walks in Chitwick
in the forest down

He stands quite still with thought,

presses a flower fair between pages,
was once woven into 
the life with
wooden tree,
into the life of earth

Strides the path made by leprechauns
and herded goat

Along the dirt walk grows green foliage
curtained with sun,

from whose forest roof it enters, 
gently pushing aside 
branch and leaf,
much like wind riding on
apprenticed clouds

He a poet is, pens about ‘her beauty
and how much he
loves her’

Feels her smile move across
his face,
moves 
the wildflowers

Her world smells of ladyslippers 
and forget-me-nots, watered
by summer rain from
distant lands

After, she crosses the gôd cyningwith 
fingers tight on 
mythical beast,

in the heavens, in the sky, it
gallops with thunderous
hooves

She whispers to the white
mythical beast, travels over
the whale-road to see

the sea,

all things mysterious and unsurveyed like hidden, 
wooded dwells,

to Chitwick in the forest down
to be with him,
lived the happily ever after,
once upon.

Copyright © 01/10/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

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i drowned along the mist of her walk

steel face on a footpath so no one
would look at 
her

no one to wink similar to scratches
made on a
second story 

window by wind moving branches
back and 

forth, fire hose effect, like etchings
engraved in her
cheeks

from years of crying
from being 

all alone,

she left alone the grass walk and
walked where

cables and rivets tried to hold
the love
she

had lost, now a scavenger gathering
leaves and sticks

to build her a shelter, white 
knuckles
in 

a mist grow cold searching for
clothes tattered

that she tried to pull off, ones
he had bought
her

left a mark like a wedding
finger, 

tried to wash it away a 
dwarf of a 
memory

she tried to depart into the horizon
of despair

but mist veiled crept up slowly on
hands and 
scuffed

knees bleeding, brooded where 
wreaths of shadows

covered her sleep, she cannot wake
in the dawn

scattered light darted on wing like
chimney swifts,
sped

out of darkness
out of swamps

he woke in her morrow in her
breathed thereon,
quiet

as the soft mist as the dampness
rising from the ground

the mist pulling up their voices
yet he cannot
breathe

in her presence, yet he drowns
in his still

love for her, he staggers, he
stumbles upon
shores

of misted sand searching for
her gentle lonely

footsteps… they wash away 
where tears
are wiped

by tired hands pushing them
away as do
stones

of puddles,

she climbs between the porch
pillars porch swing
memories

they drift into her where splinters
become painful,

yet he attempts to remove them
with warm
smiles

he whispers into mist into her
soft ear,

“i love thee still”

the steel withers off between
forest moss

collapses into cold hard ground
as she collapses
into

his arms into his heart
forever…

Copyright © 10/29/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

Image

wet

crispfirm
liquid 
movement

thatch 
your skin

wet

bend yourspine

hold my neck
hold my
love

with a wethand,

kiss your
breast deep

dark hair drip rain
i drink it 

long from my hand

hand up your dress
rub

where you want to be held
feel 

me
insert

your fingers
dance
wet
air

encircle 
us

press hardlips move
lust

wet me…

Copyright © 09/17/2013 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

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