The souls spared

The souls spared

4 April 2020

souls pinterest com 3 point 3
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Smother not

The wilful intent

It breathes low

Remedies

For the dark venture to cease

The mind none to tease

 

Pursue Art

Within mighty heart

The power

To harness

Kingdoms beyond the darkness

Where brave stand duress

 

Look beyond

Written in the skies

The hearts paired

The souls spared

The breach a keen reminder

When the mind despaired

 

Reading of the poem:

The Lumineers – Sleep On The Floor (Official Video)

The Woven Life 2 : Bubbles of liberty

The Woven Life 2 : Bubbles of liberty

19 March 2020

Courtesy Bojan Jevtic on Saatchi art

She wove conscientiously the points keeping in mind most of the time the greatest good of all. She knew that some of what she wove would not be witnessed in her time but in eons to come. Other parts of what she wove were for immediate results or results on the short or medium term. In the beginning it had been disappointing that the desires she had did not have an immediate resolution but she had learnt to accept this. She looked upon her task as a humanitarian one as she was weaving a better consciousness. She wondered how many out there were like her weaving a better series of connections into the collective consciousness.

 

Sometimes, her old shadows returned and she would need to stop the weaving during those days. That could mean no weaving for several days in a row. She always wondered whether her consciousness would still be connected so closely with the collective consciousness to affect it in a significant way or if these days of absence would have weakened the contact. Every time she had such doubts they were dispelled immediately when she returned to weave for the greatest good of all and saw the almost immediate results. She wondered how she could cope with her shadow selves to bring them out to the light and no longer have to sit in between all the time. This would allow her to keep weaving every day instead of having to make a pause.

 

One day she caught herself talking to one of her shadow selves that had strayed into the room. It was no longer lurking behind her as they always tended to do when they manifested, watching her, thinking she was unaware of their presence or pretending they thought that. She normally would only observe them and try to fill them with light but they would take cover, literally and refuse to be dissolved most of the time although she had been able to lighten a couple of them. Today however, she decided to talk to the one who had unwittingly strayed into the room.

 

  • Why do you need to provoke the advent of darkness, she said
  • Because that is what we are made of, she answered
  • But you are me and if you are me, you cannot be made of darkness for I am light
  • There is no light without darkness so therefore if you are light, we have to be darkness
  • Will you always exist? Is there no end to some of you?
  • Who knows? You have taken such liberty with the self that there is so much light. We have kept some to ourselves. It is our bubbles of liberty where we choose to express the colours grey and black. Are they not colours too? Why refuse them? Surely as an artist you should know that a palette must be complete? How would you paint the night without us? Or the ravens or the dark clouds if not for those colours?

 

She thought to herself that she must be right. She should perhaps leave them these bubbles of liberty.

 

Björk – jóga / State of Emergency

He moved with giant strides

He moved with giant strides

16 March 2020

Courtesy Bojan Jevtic on Klassik Magazine

 

He thought that love was a battle

One to put as task

The chains and tools that he’d rattle

In the cage she’d bask

 

Envigored by resolution

He moved with giant strides

Yet it was the wrong solution

Strong the soul she rides

 

She beckoned to him taught him peace

Of leaves that mind did rake

Offered soul and heart to appease

The lady of the lake

 

Reading of the poem:

Agnes Obel – The Curse (Berlin Live Session)

The slow mist covered soft

The slow mist covered soft

10 March 2020

Courtesy Bojan Jevtic

 

The chest gathered arrows

A sacrifice thrown at its feet

Of the archer it shows

Upturned splendor of his defeat

 

Mind to heart made appeal

No prison for want of warden

A kiss of love to seal

A pact made in yonder garden

 

The slow mist covered soft

Flowers in the garden blooming

The heart yet kept aloft

Silken threads to the mind grooming

 

Reading of the poem:

B-Tribe – Agua azul

B-Tribe – Spiritual Spiritual

B – TRIBE – Suave Suave

The invisible thread

The invisible thread

9 March 2020

Courtesy twinflamereflections.com

 

She smiled at him. He was getting more interesting by the day. She always knew that her interest in men was more of the sapiosexual kind but had not realized until this day how much this was true. It was not that he was not handsome, far from that. In fact, she would classify him quite high on the handsome scale although his features might not be the classical handsome face. Yet it was not that which attracted her. What appealed to her most was the fact that he knew so much about a variety of matters and spoke like her several languages, some of which she did not speak herself.

 

He sensed her keener interest and was visibly flattered. He moved closer to her and she nudged towards him, her left flank now touching his right flank. She could feel the heat seep towards her from under his shirt. She felt all warm and cosy and it gave her a fuzzy feeling. He looked intently at her. Her eyes shone with that particular sheen which had captivated him right from the start. Unlike his green and gold speckled eyes, her eyes bore a dark liquid intensity that he had rarely seen in the eyes of the girls he had flirted with before.

 

This one was going to be trouble for his heart if she did not respond to his wishes in the way he wanted. He knew she wanted and celebrated her freedom. Would they be able to keep this feeling despite the both of them being so fiercely independent, he wondered? Yet he knew that every time he was away from her it was like something within him was missing. He simply had to come back to her or her to him, he was not sure which one of them wandered back to the other. Like drunken sailors they seemed to rift apart and then stumble into each other again.

 

It was as if an invisible thread with a spring-like quality was holding them and brought them back to each other when they wandered away too far. He had heard a saying once that people who were meant to meet were tied by an invisible thread. If the saying was true, then he and she were apparently glued together with several servings of invisible thread. He smiled to himself. He liked the idea of being strung up as long as it was with her…

 

Love – B-Tribe

The wolf played act so meek

The wolf played act so meek

8 March 2020

Courtesy Jason Mowry

 

Ripples in his tides had gathered

The wolf played act so meek

Spotting golden fleece in the herd

Approached it tongue in cheek

 

The darkness bore it through the eye

The prey that he did seek

He turned to glower at the sky

Saw clouds upon them bleak

 

Then burdened by this new defeat

He gazed upon it slight

Turned the slate to become new sheet

Softly renounced the might

 

Reading of the poem:

Harrison Storm – Feeling You (Official Video)

Rustling reeds

Rustling reeds

26 February 2020

Courtesy Ilona Veresk on Deviantart.com

 

Twirling knots

Renewing my hair

In between

Here and there

Pieces and strands flying high

Shadows in the sky

 

Lustre lost

My skin flakes so pale

Gathered soft

On my knees

Yesterday a place to tease

Dying memories

 

Rustling reeds

Escaping fingers

Paper boats

Lining up

Dropping tea stains from my cup

I hear the silence

 

Reading of the poem:

Ólafur Arnalds – Not Alone

Missing steps

Missing steps

18 February 2020

Courtesy Freerangestock.com

 

Wandering

The mind follows bends

Of pathways

Yesterday

A walk in Netherland stride

Reckoning of wild

 

Wavering

Consciousness between

Allowed hues

Disowned blues

A patchwork of dreams

Uncovering streams

 

Plundering

In waves comes the greed

From the depths

Missing steps

The soul recovering sheen

Of forgotten spleen

 

Reading of the poem:

Over The Ocean – I Will Be Silent

The view loses charm

The view loses charm

15 December 2015

 

willow pinterest com
Courtesy pinterest.com

Staring at its grace

Willow tree stooping over

All magic peeks shuns

 

Review my beauty

With attention’s past glamour

Look ignores appeal

 

When eye sees beauty

With too self-centred intent

The view loses charm

 

willow pinterest com 2
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

I Feel Pretty – Julie Andrews

 

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #75 Charm&Look

Ping back and rules here

The Loss of what is not there

The Loss of what is not there

13 September 2015

loss loftcinema com undertheskin-e1424463165172
Courtesy loftcinema.com

 

If I could appeal

To beat of your bleeding Heart

I see withering

 

If I could go back

Halt now shift within your heart

I see unfolding

 

If I could stop it

The day you will choose reason

I see oncoming

 

I would move time’s space

Within that fraction of mind

When intent went wrong

 

Alas I watch it

The Loss of what is not there

Awaiting future

 

When cycle is spent

Time will then fold on itself

So past comes undone

 

With Knowledge of Loss

You will transcend the intent

Rephrasing the past

 

Thus I say this much

Perhaps that you will look too

Saves us the heartache

loss goodmenproject (2)
Courtesy goodmenproject.com