The precipice of summer lingers …

The precipice of summer lingers lying quietly to the definitions we cling to … ritual eggs brighten rows freshly tilled by plow shears we forged from the last glance our eyes held with the starving peregrines on the ledges of the city towers … their children are dried to hollow dusty holograms … the tapping of a heart’s chain slung carelessly to trip the rainbow’s remains for their want of nurturing spittle … rain too far a distant dust bowl dagger slit in lamb’s wool absorption to quench  … we are vain, almost vulgar, in calling for a holy preservation of the child Self … the yoked sack membrane damp as the due we all crawl through eventually in suckling dread hours … the remainder of stains on duckling cliffs ruby~ing palms and knees … my toes turn in, Leo knows how it hurts, how the martin’s purple came to be … why  can’t we take our hands off the joy stick of illusion long enough to know … giving up creation to create with each other … for whatever time we are afforded by the roadside ditches or in marble mansions … ambling, rambling, or scrambling for its living breath … is by design a worthy purpose …

4-23-2017
© 2017 cdd all rights reserved

Tunnel… I’m not the only one …

A lake lies dead … sickness fills its gills at the ice’s edge … hurried clutter and cramped fur decaying abide … an open mouth surface sucking blue gill seeking the blessings of summer air … a litter moisture white flake scatter of two foot fair channel cat and their grass carp brothers in arms … they were ships in their former life … now barely magnetic worth in a pond of a sea … the eagles land when the strength of winter holds fast against the sun’s wobble spun proclamations … they fill their purposes with craven mouthed worm gills from death’s cold clay …

As for me … I exist on kindness and crackers … the coffee of other’s honest obituaries and funeral home basement sugar cube seven year old powdered cream misunderstandings … oatmeal cookies the Basset hound found forgotten or meant shared later to maddened murder, a mayhem with smiling songs … the children, they are passing as well … one by one of strange prophecies, illness or curse … poppets perhaps, directed to eat my hair while I sleep  … dreaming of lovers just beyond the shores of all my ancient oceans … spells to banish boogeymen some dare to own twice … I care not pardon those who choose to sacrifice the seeds to save fruit left un-harvested, un-hailed, and impotent to glory’s grace in exchange for a moment’s licking fire parade of id or ire, either shamed … Will I burn in some fresh hell for this confession that my love of all transcends my love of self ? … I may … Comfort sends me postcards from those who will join me and we plan our potlucks, vegetarian and cruelty-free whenever possible …

Does The Creator seek religion each time war seems endless between his unruly children ? … Did The Christ child within the man looking toward the heavenly home in prophetic hues of black betrayal ? … Is this why we have cultivate flower gardens … to pay for our inability to not break the truth that he came here to show us … that our love could save him … not the obtuse … each day he breathed the bait, yet, remained for Love is the ghost and the game, the trial, the cross, the only healing shot in the veins … driving the damaged onto a frigid tile floor of some convenient store … both have forgotten why at times … toilet water dipped in pain’s stains to thin the sap he gifted those too beautiful to remain whole … once the illusion slipped the remains of memory into the shape shifting phos-copper flames of lotus elixirs … our silver brazed brass glands gasping outside the rain … no end, nor order, never hope to hold the few remains of perishing chased scissor lace … cirrus clouds which banish the bane of dagger thrust sanity …

Meanwhile, … here I am ever weaving webs of light in the corners of Bethlehem … the Spirits of my Grand Mothers ever guiding my hands … tears spun to likened lamp oil light only the Holy may see … praying for wishing horses to ride once again … I never cease believing, though there are some things my heart desires blindness to …

© 2017 cdd All Rights Reserved

NaPoWriMo 2016 #15

The prompt tonight was to write on the subject of two or the other.

destroyed-feng-covered-bridge-chongqing-china-longest-covered-bridge-a-_s1sp

Between Your Curse and Mine

The bridge is burning between your curse and mine … you said it was mutual, my dreams said otherwise … Horus’ claw tearing at my heart from it’s magnet chamber … as the Underworld fell crippling all about me … gloss black glass and vacant flames … as your absence remains … you are not the disciple and I cannot allow Maat to weigh my hindrance as yet … nor feed my flesh to the crocodiles … though they sleep only to out wit me … I shall walk the red hot coals to breathe your world’s air … trust me … your dominion is not defined cask and cade … beg a cause for peace and I will lend you my rope and spy glass … the colorlessness of coming Winter will be here once more soon enough … his Lord’s prism and electric pride parade dancing on the edge of forever … I will save you a seat beside the Queen … if you will put out the fire.

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

NaPoWriMo 2016 #8

Let There Be Love

 

May the children in the morning rays,

Remember love will always stay,

In their hearts if they are gay,

As they grow not forgetting to play,

Let There Be Love.

 

May our brothers come together fast,

Building bonds of strength to last,

A creed defined across all caste,

Molded from the ghosts of visions past,

Let There Be Love.

 

Will sisters struggle arm in arm,

Heal at last and do no harm,

Beat the drum fighting back the swarm,

Grow hearts at home and fruit upon the farms,

Let There Be Love.

 

And when at end of day we rest,

Bring kindness, joy, and peace to test,

Care for Mother Earth’s children best,

For We are seen and We are blessed,

Let There Be Love.

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

 

This is my wish for you all today and every day. May we all be as One and May there be Love.

 

 

NaPoWriMo 2016 #5

Today’s prompt was to incorporate names of heirloom seeds into our poems. Very clever.

NaPoWriMo2016 #5

All my thoughts of idealistic love,

have flown away with the Purple Dove,

Now, I seek a man who knows,

the worth of a garden and holeless gloves,

No fantasies of Silver Queens,

or Tequila Sunrise on the beach,

I long for a quiet Black Prince,

who’ll kindly wash my hair and rinse,

I’ll serve him fried Rat’s Tails for breakfast,

Japanese Pie, and Lemon Drops too,

We’ll love to garden our days away,

Selling berries and riverman stew,

On the porch we’ll shell the Ojo de Cabras,

While our foul flock pecks the labyrinth,

He’d wear his Turk’s Cap, me my Red Velvet Lipstick,

When to town we go to cut a jig rug,

But, when day is done, we cuddle up like bugs,

Welcoming sweet restfull sleep at our door,

“What can I give this happiness to repay?”

“Brazilian Starfish to light love evermore.”

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 29

Poor Prayer

There is no Saint who can hear an empty heart,

Exists no God who sees a self proclaimed fool,

No Matron Mother bears beliefless children homeward,

If all prayers are whispered on the wings of woe,

This is why we have Angels come into our lives,

To lead us to the light once more, when darkness falls.

#NaPoWriMo 29
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 23

I am the needle … said Soul and you my magnet … Let me thread you with the silk of my aching desires … I will dead pan plumb the gravity line of your afflictions … Roll the lacing thusly thrice, the Knot of Wisdom catching in blessed assurance the tatter edge of mend~less muscle … Between the stippled patterns inquire, where the cog line binds … Bathe me in myrrh, wine, and Balms of Gilead … that I shall be suchered into your heart … We becoming as One burning engorged vessel …polarized by the spiritual compass of the Holy Ghost and the fire of mechanistic mystics …

 #NaPoWriMo 23

  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 20

Was I dreaming of the snails or were the snails dreaming of me?

It will be a long ordeal now… this arriving at the door of happiness … silver has been sold for you, Mountain Man … that would never have been gifted to another not even in death … yours was the most sacred of trusts … Do we heal from the inside out where the soul light stirs closest to the truth of our wounds … or from the salves of the world’s doing ? … it is in joining that we heal … it has always been … the thirst for your mouth deeper still budding in the furrows of my heart song … to be inundated by how we laughed at our human cleverness … Tumble tossed key, locks scramble ordered before Alexander or Napoleon … either yield the same solutions … break us all by the years … by the thousands and we will bow still and justly before the Law of the King of soul … Lavender scented skin and the way my hair would have fallen about your face… when the world was lost Eleventh Universe electric slow ride … Home … you are my home … dreams to awakening … hope to tears … and such blessed growth for which I am ever thankful … yet, … today, I remain homeless.

 #NaPoWriMo 20

  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

If Not for Technology #NaPoWriMo 10

It was in a dream somewhere I saw your face … “like an ad in the old fashioned news”, you’d say … I watched you and read the posts on your page … saw the pictures from your life … listened to the tunes you would post … I learned about what you did as a trade … where you live, even saw the food that you ate … One day I got bold and reposted a poem … some whirling and twirling round something someone wrote … truth is I forget the words or even the rhyme … I just knew I couldn’t waste any more time … my heart was reaching inside of your walls, down the corridors, and hanging out in the halls … I knocked on the door and when you opened it wide … I fumbled and lost it and I dropped my pride … I broke down and  choked up, yeah I spilled all the beans … confessed and addressed and oh hell, I made a mess of everything … too many phone conversations … too many late nights burnt out … so many things mistaken … now we will never sort it out … had our eyes met … or we ever held hands … had a simple good night kiss … happened unplanned … but things aren’t done that way anymore … there’s no old fashioned love in store … for dreamers like me who are caught in the belief … if not for technology … we might have been … Mail Order Annie and her Handsome Dan.

 #NaPoWriMo 10

© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

Beauty from Julie Sopetran’s Blog

A Stunning and Beautiful Tutorial for Children to learn the Trees this spring also a wonderful site on Word Press for Poetry and the Wisdom of Life. I encourage you to visit this site and share it with others.

Haikus For Children to Learn the Trees

by Julie Sopetran

https://eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com/haikus-para-ninos-aprender-de-los-arboles/

Get to know the extraordinary woman who created this blog.

Julie Sopetran Do You Want to Know?

https://eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com/%C2%BFquieres-conocerme/

 Gracias and Thank You Julie for being a Wise Woman, Mentor, and Grand Mother. God Bless You.