Smoke Signals

What is that? It started in your head, but God meant it for your mouth …

How do you keep the ringlets of the pebbles tossed in calm lakes from swallowing up the reflection of those you love the most … just before you give them flight … the second upon which you release their memory stones from your palm? …

The film of your redemption was as thick as unkempt kisses … rude and rare meat mangled … cupping my palm gravel of you like a pale rose born from the oil of our bodies … pressed panting passions, and the hope which water slips finger fragrant through … sinking shadowed bubble ripplets rising to quench … to beg you …

Light a fire on your blackened banks and send me smoke signals … send me the sentiment God wanted your voice to call out in the moonlight across this unstill body of mirror and madness between us … I am waiting on the far shore … my hands empty of stone, thorn,  or misconception …

Only flowers and tenderness remain.

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved June 25, 2015
Advertisements

Saying Goodbye

420957_365555960124650_989349055_nSaying Goodbye, well that’s simply not possible … we are a part of each other now … you have not listened, when the breeze leaves the lake headed for window’s broken pane … to reach your sweet flesh again … daily, I write … when the heat is too much to bear … sweat culling my back as droplets off the twigs of Pinyons in the thawing mountain mornings … these paths in my mind clear enough to hear the raven’s wing stroke silence above … the fans lull illusions away … mere fingers for clothing and digit~less prayers to pray … Do you softly gently ever ? … Do eyes remain in a bowl upon the chair ? … I fingertip and hand dance, holy …  muscle moist and glorify the imperfection … be the gift what was intended when we became … It’s been so long since I’ve dropped clean through the net like this … and yes, the thought of you does …

© 2016 Cdd  all rights reserved

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

Un~Forgiven #NaPoWriMo 17

It was you, dark glint of Love’s light, who asked to see my palm … who read it , sight unseen, through the fiddle back fronds of forever after … the razor edge of your finger nail slicing my fate line in two … it bled like a fermented pomegranate eager to burst from it’s rind … becoming shell in the eons it had waited for you to sky blind seek and find me … to love even at the risk of one’s own life is to coin change purse the soul, my love … Baba will only laugh as my coins tumble glinting in the noonday’s sun … gold, silver, and copper chiming the song of the universe on their dancing down the stairs … “Truth, Love, and Simplicity ” alone … how could I have forgotten myself so easily ? … to relinquish my vogel of protection and hand my wings to you tied with pretty ribbons … the grey spade you gave me and requested I start digging … I knew it was a grave even then, yet for whom? … My Self or My Sister … she has eyes who hold a hundred hollow horrors … oh, the displeasure of being my sister’s keeper … either way we are un~forgiven by you … for not handing over the keys to some Verita’s phantom maze … I fall short of a feather gaining passage on your barge tonight … Thus, I shall run with the dog men at the river come dusk … and bleeding blue from the canker and the bramble dust … sham shackle home to beat the dawn, to greet the dead in soul, in heart, and in dread.

#NaPoWriMo 17
  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

On the Mountain Top

The sun cast repentant closing day shadows … across the window panes of the Library of Alexandria … the fields of river blessed inundation … the black betwixt amber caught … craving soaks the mud red bank where in desire holds her icy breath … clay clouds bank to the horizon pressing pursed against the plains false claim to be hillsides … merely masking dreams with hope hampering joy … of a sign, a symbol scrawled in Earth … that there is a promise land out out beyond this pale painted hint … open hearts make mauve and rosey pallor petal dreads bleed red … beating brandish strikes at Summer songs that dare rejoices in … on the mountain top.

© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

Service

640px-Types_de_plumes._-_Larousse_pour_tous,_-1907-1910-File:Types de plumes. – Larousse pour tous, -1907-1910-.jpg
From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository

How will I best be of service in the days to come? … I linger at the ice islands … white~blue upon the growing shadows of the river’s approaching slumber … beneath summer~less limbs perch and prey holds to the day eagles’ glint of razor talons sole security … mesmerized by the warmth the memories of Blue Gill can offer in such sentinel staunch hours … eyes mild for a mere mouse of a morsel to pluck from the bank below … before Bitterness and Night tear away the glory of the sky in their clamor dance … to possess and ravage the sunrise while She still dreams of becoming a Blood Orange pudding fit for Dawn to wear … to the cosmic order we all have been born … in their service they embrace all with purpose, skillful matrix … even to the barbs on their flight feathers … thus in truth I shall be the strength of a constant carrying wind.

© 2014 Carla Dawn Dunlap and S.I.A. All Rights Reserved