I Want To Hear Your Voice

“ I Want To Hear Your Voice “

The newborn ducklings struggle with soft slumber toward a peace where the wild water’s edge knows no fear … a space once spoken of beneath kiss remised promises of star drizzled mew … red and orange roses, sea foam lace ribboned in Armenian mythologies …

Garter snakes sun themselves upon old growth stumps in the morning … before humankind awakens, they copulate coiling slick cool surrenders on the spawny mosses beneath Lady’s Mantle umbrellas … Though their mouths will ever remain too unsubstantial to feed on the fowl’s wet lain eggs, their nest hidden in dawn’s memory of how we sought each other within this same warmth …

Time has been a cruel mistress, a mere flicker remains to the white moths my heart light has harbored for you … I do not turn to the darkness, even when the battlements seem to have taken you away … this time for a permanence I cannot bear … stealing my garden chimes and sing song rhymes …

The flitting willow bird’s nod, shy as it may be, longs for the life we dreamt of … berry jams and honey comb drippings from shared syllables, tonal tantric rituals, beholden to one beloved breath … a tactical onomatopoeia …

The Light cried for the Goddess’ cause banishing beauty to the Underworld … selective seduction abides now lingering where once the salamanders paused to gaze in the clear night’s smoky vapors … only Her wisdom remains in the valleys of blue bell springs or cedar swept winters … searching for coupling every molecule until love’s quest thirst defends, hope sitting unsheathed, mercy amended, awaiting the tongues of grace in fallen snows and ashen oven understanding … to Unbind hearts knotted by misconceptions …

© 2018 CDD All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

 

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Grief… the guilt — Aria-Bella Rises

It has been 8 full moons since my little right hand pooch left his body. 8 months of me processing, feeling, hiding and dealing with grief in all of its forms. Here is some learning that I have taken from it… this applies to anyone whether they have lost a pet, a friend, a […]

via Grief… the guilt — Aria-Bella Rises

Life is ever flowing ebb of rising/sweeping remission of emotional tides on which the human heart gallops. Opening the palm of the Soul to release a parent is one of the most delicate experiences I have ever been through. Still, walking this path’s journey. Love knows no bounds.
12:52 PM · Feb 15, 2018

Papa,

I believe I  am finally breathe once  more. You are ever my hero, protector, and the most brilliant man I have yet to meet. Miss you like crazy but, it is time to take that path we always talked about so many hours beneath our beloved trees here.

All  My Love,

Your Baby Doll

Walter C. Dunlap of Revere | 1939 – 2017 | Obituary

https://www.meaningfulfunerals.net/?action=obituaries.obit_view&CFID=682708c9-909d-42a6-bc7b-d364e22fbc88&CFTOKEN=0&o_id=4447669&fh_id=11405

You Ought To Know

Portraits 2014 010

Someone has been killing our cats,

Demonic river congo rats,

Seizure tremor clabber dinner,

Milk poured from Death's sovereign vat,

Trespass coochie bubble grass,

A sea of stolen starlight cast,

To sail my soul, rasp, and sinner,

Until our veils vapor shimmer,

Love remains life's dearest need,

Whole womb, doom, venom, or seed,

Dare cause to arise, must's do plea,

Cherries sweetest cyanidic,

Forgiveness, poison, daily bleed.

In memory of Jabber Box aka Jack 
the Cowboy Cat. He was thankful for 
every mouthful he received and
defined love more concicely than 
we humans can imagine. 

© CDD All Rights Reserved 2017
© CAS All Rights Reserved 8/21/17

 

 

Oleander Greed

The catalpa pods dangle, hesitant paper laces in the hushed secrets of the Autumn winds … above and in sentry over the first blush cascades of promising rose hips, nourishment the summer fauns will savor come winter’s killing frost … slightness of the morning turning her palms in offering first testament … there uplifts a billowed lantern dance in unconcealed oneness urging the wood ducks to favor the openness of the lake’s center … thus, they ride on crystal carronades of split prism prayer parades … carnival red, gold, and green gleam … Soul drifts upon this thirst of suggestion, pagoda patter beneath cool bare feet, stone and moss married amongst calliopes with tender mints supplanted … silver bells kiss consternation pouring forth amicable intentions of reaching ignorance’s temple where rest no knowledge of ever knowing touch … the taste of mead and marigolds drunk with a dark silence met … I am your vital leech field, swamp to suckle mud fed seeds, thus, his milky and honey oleander greed.

© CDD All Rights Reserved 2017

More ?

Art work credit: Bloodletting by © CanisAlbus

More …
Tis all I find above sullen skies to sate the Spirit’s climb,
In salty seas to spice the dining of craven hunger bowls,
On Earth to fodder flower, fain, or fauns away from Winter’s stole,
Saving graces by only thine, my fires consumption burns whole,
This Soul of mine was rebuked to despair’s hellish holes,
For the labour of Sin Eaters is seldom seen for its gold,
Until death and decrepit darkness announces me rendered,

As She or Her at last,
So, yes please, … bleed me until I am blind.

© 2017 cdd all rights reserved

 

NaPoWriMo 2017 #7

Glory’s voice, utterer, potter’s wheel clay culled of Crone Moon and Milky Way,

Starchild, do not seek tenders and hope amongst the colors of your visioned sight,

The heart who claims love yet, holds the darkness as for you a guiding light,

Captive, craven you shall become, as the raven is to the black he sought for envy,

Feed them not with green pools, copper lamp pupil gated souls. sweet glance or glare,

For turning away will their mechanism be, to fantasy, id and ego plated, awaited,

Delicious dishes mirrored selves, both snails and eggs and puppy dog tails,

Go out instead and dress the trees in this your lorn laced ruffled sleeves,

Arm fulls embrace, curtsy the leaves, kissing bark veins, cheeking mossy tellings,

Drawn water as if sapling springs from mountain thaws, awakening warmth in their further fruits,

Not yet even a bud of thought in a twig’s lonesome dreams, when Autumn sings,

There will be found the seeds, the husk for Earth and Star’s child to circle round,

Rhyme past thyme sleeping lazy in the summer sun swinging on the ripened vine,

Hop the creek, toes to minnows cool waters, and algae slimes as tadpoles divine time there,

Now lives for the beauty the children feel in their close and most precious Host,

The Voices of our souls can not express lest we sing the cellular Nature songs,

When we were and Who we are while dancing to Where shall we go next my friend ?