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Art Credit: Tomasz Alen Kopera

Now is the briefest passage of the gloaming light … mustard flecked goblin suspensions of Spirit’s absinthe carpet between worlds … mosaic cedar peridot shadows cast craving capillaries to crest upon ethereal shores … we wait … our nakedness hidden behind the frail coats of the illuminated unkindness of Winter … it is not yet ready to trade our smiles for the warmth Pangea may measure with both sunlight and the breath of the stars in their ecstatic chants to Baba … the forest is brief in its mating … all above and below tis sacred glow revealed as it once was … not as we made it so … bark and branch as kindred kings carrying lark, lichen, moss, and lamp likened skies of pure pervading glory …  in the turning cast, the evening’s shadow, fauns a delicate blanket of faery tales yet unwritten … lovers await the deepening safety, the negral of night … to taste the darkness of surrender’s kiss …

© 2016 Cdd All Rights Reserved

Please visit this link for more of Tomasz’s astounding art work. Support the Arts They are the foundation of our freedoms. Blessings, Carla Dawn

http://www.tuttartpitturasculturapoesiamusica.com/2013/01/Tomasz-Alen-Kopera.html

© Tutt’Art@ | Pittura * Scultura * Poesia * Musica |

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Puns and Punctuation

pen-paper

I used to come to the altar of offerings to bleed for you in single strands of my diluted blue blood punctuated elixirs … finery frost and the web of maidenhair remembrances written on winds which slumbered while my heart made ready only that which would serve thee … love was their carriage master … It was in the winter nights I wandered ice ghost stone shell of a lover left in me … East my feet blue as the vein untapped would creep … to your window panes and brittle break upon their fragile pain as toe dance I would to see you pen … bay tea and herb, parchments and hound … yet, seldom was it you I found … so in love with the moon you were that she had your gaze, your lips, the touch of that which goes beyond what most can bear or bare … the pebbles I pelted upon our skull were never felt by your mortal core … all the same you turned and smiled right through me … 

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 24

You pass through my body in moments of which I feel need … the sheet of your shadow creasing into my bones … as is you are in this very room … motioning the air about in rub tickle tones of molecular slow and salty tangos … the way someone might on a train caught in the sliver shot of a fall rush … people pass hiding they felt a spark … hand brushing the back, a wool coat … that back leaning into a woman’s breast, grazing her into a soft silence … I look up from my work searching the room for your coffee brown eyes … seeking some spark of synaptic contact we wove in voice overs on the phone when winter was brutal … shut in and shouting out for some humanity to hear and claim us … If I can’t have your hands I’d settle for your eyes on me  … in resting moments I lay the blanket of your Self upon me … tucking your head under my chin, your arms encompassing me … I listen to the changing rhythms of my heartbeat and I sleep … you whisper there will be cooked beans when I awaken and leave the kindest parts of you behind to keep me warm … my eyes close as you leave the room… the door cracked only a little bit … You pass through me at times …

#NaPoWriMo 24

  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 12

The dit diddy datts of night’s cool rains have only just begun to create their jazzy improvisations … in sky lights streaking shaft hot tongues towards iron and copper Earth golems … afternoon was blessed warm and the Sun met the lake with joyous play … it was the eagles’ first sighting of Floating Fox since the thaw of last winter’s crystal coma … his strength was apparent in both his ability to churn up the muddy bank and in the vibrancy of his colors … he is now larger than any channel cat which dares swim in his school … he is the master of these waters now … they follow where he flows in reverence, not obedience … the black of his koi legacy is far deeper ink than any of their native Mississippi ghost grey skins … he is golden and marigold~orange with fire … and to them, he must be surely be, the samurai fish come from legends told from the boat himself …  Blue Ictalurus of the Small Waters … he had witnessed such koi in the ancient spring pond … from here his  father’s fathers came… the old waters above the new born lake in which they all swam together now … it was foretold one day an eagle would succeed in stealing Floating Fox from his spawn and spread …  to this day not one mighty enough had come to bear a white head so fierce they could pierce the dragon scales of this other worldly warrior … nor were they a match for him in mid air combat when the sharp talons of his whiskers stung them venomously … and the beating of his mighty tail fins sent them into a downward spiraling  retreat …

 #NaPoWriMo 12
 © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

Winter Words

Winter words have been elusive lots … jumbled time tumbling bronzed locks … tethering heartbeats to your memory … bell ship bound in some sunken grave of grey ground … and  feather down dullard dreaming cartilage cast spinning on the ice … frozen fronds waiting for the spring thaw … like ancient love letters tucked in the cracks of a wishing wall … to return to the dust you blew through those hollow haunts … I kept the wine from freezing between my thighs … though they were rosy enough in the beginning with out currants and lavender to share their spice … it will be a good year to uncork the  secrets we stained so many a moment with … let the butterflies drink all they will and carry you away on drunken wings … that sad or silken sorrows shall visit no more the cobwebs or the broom.

© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved