Death converts to life

Death converts to life

8 September 2018

death converts to life deviantart com a_woman_in_the_stars_by_cloudy_melody
Courtesy deviantart.com

 

Highways will lead North

Where fog and sea surrender

Intimate lacing

 

Wish upon my bones

Call to the elders that know

Stories of caskets

 

Moonbeams grow shadows

Within heart of the meadows

Fairies live prancing

 

Hold my gaze to skies

Illuminate my bosom

Rose insulates me

 

Lightning bears a door

In between threads and the bolt

A crack reveals light

 

Invert destinies

Redress stories of duress

Death converts to life

 

Reading of the poem: 

Don’t let me down ft Daya – The Chainsmokers

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

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

 

Angel Tears

Angel Tears

30 July 2016

Angels tears carlos queyedo raphael
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on deviantart.com

 

Falling rain

Covers my meadows

Black prairies

Grass withers

Scorching sunlight seeps within

Land of the fairies

 

The woods speak

Their voices wooden

Like ship mast

Now downcast

We carry our crew like rock

Flags of soul breach seas

 

Feeble mock

Their hearts set in stone

Marble walls

Angels’ Tears

Within the dark veins strewn thin

In loss of the Love

 

Reading of the poem: 

angelstears carlos quevedo
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on deviantart.com

Troth – Thomas Feiner

Of Love in our eyes

Of Love in our eyes

3 June 2016

water pinterest com 3
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

I remember Times

When all that glittered was stars

And we were stardust

 

The days were sunny

The moon was forever young

Our skin night’s pallor

 

We belonged to life

Its rivers ran through our veins

Like endless jugglers

 

The tides obeyed none

They scorned moon and shunned sunlight

Patterns bearing tune

 

Through the rocks we jigged

Every footstep a foothold

On lake memory

 

The sun-kissed waters

We waded through their shimmers

Our bodies alit

 

When the day was done

We skipped through the moonlit air

Sustaining our frames

 

The flowers bloomed red

As we ran through the meadows

Our shadows suitors

 

We danced in playgrounds

Where light was but reflections

Of Love in our eyes

 

Reading of the poem: 

ghosttango pinterest com 3
Courtesy pinterest.com

The Good Things – Bill Laurance

Swag Times – Bill Laurance

Ready Wednesday – Bill Laurance

A play of the tides

A play of the tides

6 May 2016

water fivefourandaquarter wordpress com
Courtesy fivefourandaquarter.wordpress.com

 

Feathers in landscapes

Like small balls of white cotton

Spread on green meadows

 

The sun in the skies

Shimmering on the green lands

Extending deserts

 

Forgotten waters

Surge beyond the barren shores

A play of the tides

 

Reading of the poem: 

angel facebook com
Courtesy facebook.com

I sogni non finiscono all’alba – Giuliano Scolesi

Dream – Giuliano Scolesi

Delphys, la matrice – Giuliano Scolesi

Les loups des marais / Wolves of the marshes

Les loups des marais

(Traduit en un shadorma en anglais ci-dessous ou voir ici)

22 avril 2016

moon paper4pc com
Courtesy paper4pc.com

 

Retourne-moi

Je suis à l’envers

Délicate

Crêpe Georgette

Un tissu de clairvoyance

Tissé sans mensonges

 

Mange-moi donc

Je suis pilule d’or

J’agrémente

L’univers

Je colorie en gris-vert

L’illusion des prés

 

Digère-moi

Je suis en entrailles

Découverte

Lecture braille

Les mots pour extra-sensibles

Livre ouvert en cœur

 

Exsude-moi

Je sue de tes pores

Instinct d’hiver

Rêve printemps

Ma bouche formule bas tes vers

Deux cœurs en dévers

 

Recueille-moi

De ces mares sanglantes

Dénudée

Dévidée

Trois petits-tours et s’en vont

Les loups des marais

 

Lecture du poème: 

moon sf co ua
Courtesy sf.co.ua

 

Wolves of the marshes

(Translation of a shadorma written in French, see above or here)

April 22, 2016

moon trigger photoshelter com
Courtesy trigger.photoshelter.com

Turn me up

I am upside down

Delicate

Crepe Georgette

A fabric of clairvoyance

Woven without lies

 

Eat me so

I like golden pill

Decorate

Universe

I colour in greyish-green

Meadows illusions

 

Digest me

I am in entrails

Discovery

Reading Braille

Words for extra-sensitives

Open book in heart

 

Exude me

I sweat from your pores

Winter’s guts

Dream of spring

My mouth formulates your verse

Two hearts’ downward slopes

 

Collect me

From these bloody pools

Uncovered

Emptied bare

Three little rounds and they run

Wolves of the marshes

 

Reading of the poem: 

moon angelabchrysler com
Courtesy angelabchrysler.com

Not Human – Javier Navarrete

Fireflies in the garden – Javier Navarrete

Long long time ago – Javier Navarrete