It rained in my Heart

It rained in my Heart

15 March 2018

Christian Schloe heart 3
Courtesy Christian Schloe

 

Desert skies looming

Grey landscapes of dust and toil

Sun’s pallor lasted

 

Butterflies hung low

Paper birds flirted with winds

Sands wasted on skin

 

Trees shriveled in sight

Limp grass a patchwork of gloom

Green a memory

 

Stillness at peak point

Air absent in atmosphere

Windmills in the mind

 

Whisper from lost Home

Scent of jasmine in the air

Ray pierced into Grey

 

Skies broke into blue

Keen thoughts stirred within my soul

It rained in my Heart

 

Reading of the poem: 

Six Hours – Abel Korzeniowski

Change the Earth

Change the Earth

17 December 2017

change earth weheartit com
Courtesy weheartit.com

 

Take my eye

See blossoms rising

From dead leaves

Uprising

Everlasting green in brown

From wasted the clean

 

Bandwith mean

Average effort

Middle path

Needle math

Summoning the craft in hand

Making no demand

 

Tears in eyes

Compassion extreme

Renewed birth

Change the Earth

Blue green vision from a dream

Now freed from the lies

 

Singing of the poem: 

Reading of the poem: 

And they have escaped the weight of darkness – Ólafur Arnalds

Chalk drawing of flower

Chalk drawing of flower

15 August 2017

 

This is a new trial in chalk of a flower. I am not sure which flower it is. I initially thought azalea but am not doubting it. Unfortunately there was nothing on the name when I saw the image.

 

I have used smudging as well as direct chalk application. The medium I drew upon is coloured plain brown sheet. My guess is that this would have been better on a lighter colour of the same type of sheet.

 

I hope you like it nevertheless

Azalea 2

Anni Rose – Tulku

The raw taste of strawberry

The raw taste of strawberry

7 April 2017

growth Erik Brede fineartamerica org
Courtesy Erik Brede on fineartamerica.org

 

Splashing light

Into dark corners

Waking scent

Of mourners

Reliving in dreams instant

Of moments fragrant

 

Honey bees

Lifting up my knees

New posture

Green pasture

Running through meadows of gold

Naked tale foretold

 

Steel not rust

Redeems what we must

Wanderlust

Before dust

The raw taste of strawberry

Feasting in Love Trust

 

Reading of the poem: 

essence-szabadonebredok-info
Courtesy szabadonebredok-info.com

The light of my Soul – Alexander Tarasov

Life is Priceless – Alexander Tarasov

The Long Awaited Meeting – Alexander Tarasov

Random walk

Random walk

25 March 2017

flower david galstyan pinterest com 10
Courtesy David Galstyan on pinterest.com

 

Single tone

The ring of your voice

In my head

Like undead

Flowers gardeners behead

Regain new stem life

 

Undone strife

Unsheathed once the knife

Safely tucked

As they clucked

Disapproval a constant

Dissonant assent

 

Once buried

Hare and mice scurried

To the fence

For tuppence

The show a manner of calls

That dead man recalls

 

Sing the night

Through the larky day

They saw hay

We saw green

The hue somewhere in between

Our truths and their lies

 

The baby cries

When the milk turns sour

Jaded hour

Wane power

Cities where eyes look lower

Thank meekest sunsets

 

Waste regrets

On the living mouths

Double talk

Random walk

On brink of togetherness

Living in caress

 

Reading of the poem: 

flower f-dog net (2)
Courtesy f-dog.net

Take me somewhere nice – Mogwai

The shades of my Heart

The shades of my Heart

2 March 2017

red tape 5 pinterest com
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Ring me tone

For a Love to hone

Bitter taste

Shades of waste

The shadows flown out in haste

Layers of the Love

 

Spill me green

Astride ashes strewn

On the moon

Maidens swoon

We waited yet got not boon

Lovers quit too soon

 

Seventeen

Verses that could count

Smuggled sweet

Across street

Two thousand now in between

The shades of my Heart

 

Reading of the poem: 

red11
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

The colour of Love – Yakuro

I See You Baby

I See You Baby

2 February 2017

earthstillness11
Courtesy fifthdimension.org

 

Ma’s cradle

Always in the shade

No needle

Neither blade

Only mama’s white Sunshade

Baby everglade

 

Baby’s lost

Running in graveyard

Mistaken

Green backyard

Hearts and guts are beating low

Lost in dusty flow

 

Inky glow

Uncovering deep

Maidens sleep

Do they weep

All you see is frightening teeth

Perhaps none beneath

 

Ma’s paddle

Tells you what to trade

The weasel

Says the grade

All love by which you’ll abade

Losing the parade

 

The soul’s cost

Trimming in billard

Forsaken

Green orchard

Stunts and brunts are beating brow

Death is costly blow

 

Pinch me slow

Awakening sleep

Husbands creep

From wells steep

Now they see the edge of heath

My life now bequeath

 

He crawled out

In tatters from thorns

His head bled

Bloody red

Mama Dove shows blue in me

I See You Baby

 

earthstillness10
Courtesy fifthdimension.org

Reading of the poem:  

City – Jain

Say my name – Jain

Makeba – Jain

Bad Day – Jain

You can Blame Me – Jain

All My Days – Jain

Blended illusion

Blended illusion

14 November 2016

heart of love rassouli com 2

 

Three to one

Sorted confusion

Our limbs meet

Green hilltops

Slopes sliding through the morrows

Forged in the sorrows

 

Priest and nun

Thwarted diffusion

Our bones sweep

Blue graveyards

Where the look takes to the kill

Bodies lying still

 

Hopes are torn

When the children die

Pennies lie

Change wasted

The smiles on our mouth pasted

With gruesome dark glue

 

Blink I’m gone

Remnants of pieces

Skin hanging

Rose petals

Showering your pale body

As the sound subsides

 

Wild horse rides

Peaks of never more

Wave broken

On the shore

The hurt still throbbing and sore

Wrists red though uncut

 

The eyes shut

Blended illusion

Surging through

Blue temple

Your breath warm as I tremble

My way through your chest

 

Reading of the poem: 

heart of love rassouli com 3

The Trees – Max Richter

The Tree the Beach the Sea – Max Richter

This Bitter Earth / On the Nature of Daylight  – Max Richter / Dinah Washington

What we were tonight

What we were tonight

29 August 2016

ghosts hand
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Tonight slipped

From my limp fingers

Grasping none

Life unfair

Chose to pair them open air

Between the spaces

 

In dream state

I remember touch

We lock hands

In rapture

Hair electric on arm stands

Pulsing the texture

 

Remember

What we were tonight

When the light

Baleful shines

All the softness undermines

Lost scent of green grass

 

Reading of the poem: 

what byrdfountain com
Courtesy byrdfountain.com

Nothing really ends – DEUs

The grass was greener

The grass was greener

20 August 2016

crimsonfields deviantart com liberty_by_tryskell-d99kjln
Courtesy tryskell-d99kjln on deviantart.com

 

She looked across the battered fields lying scorched by the heat around her frame in veils. From afar came its glint, shining eerily under the summer sun. So infused with more than just a hint of light she felt she should run towards it for it looked so beautifully green, it was almost lime-like in its iridescent sheen. She imagined the dewdrops painting life-like shadows alongside the blades of grass, twirling with these latter in those meadows a long-forgotten dance. She could almost sense the hum of the grasshoppers, the sound of brass invading her mind with their invitation to prance.

 

An arm brushing past hers tore her thoughts away from that beautiful island and its mighty sway. The field around her was buzzing in glee with grey-faced workers in neat rows of three attempting so desperately to instill some life back into the withered plants going downhill. The water ran from their giant cans dark, muddy and lifeless, not even a spark. She watched them smother rather than water the field as more sand and dirt was all the cans would yield. Here and there some poppies had survived, their wild nature breaking free revived by the view of the skies from the murky lands ties.

 

It was the bluebells that withered the most. Their head hung, their face downcast, they looked like this time they would never last. The secular trees of themselves a ghost looked over the horizons, a sight only they could boast and realised that perhaps this was the last year they would play host to the hundreds of bluebirds that on their branches found outpost to watch the first sunrise. Suddenly a ray split the skies and onward came rains of the most frightful might. To the field workers they were though the most beautiful sight as they gathered out of ranks not bothering how offering to the rain their weather-beaten brow as it washed away the mud. The oldest of trees came down with a thud and as the land under it drank the rain a damp and soon mossy stance took over its grounds again and again and again.

 

She looked across the reddened field to the brink of where her sight would yield. She looked back to the moss growing on that new land. Its glint was known to her not a new brand. Both far and near she could see it so clear.

 

The grass was greener.

 

Reading of the short story: 

greener deviantart com 4
Courtesy deviantart.com

Green…The Colour of Evolution – Yakuro