Sunday, June 30, 2013

MAGPIE...Prompt #175

                                                                        IMAGE by Musin Yohan

THANK YOU, Tess, at  Magpie Tales...


I'm still toiling,
my foot rooted mulishly in life,
each moment a crawl,
earth a strict master.

A stage in the round
mirrors my starts and stops.
Can that be a city of light
shimmering up ahead?

Within my heart,
a table is set
with salt and sugar in silver.
A bowl full up
with my time appears.
My mother stirs the healing broth.

A wafer of my soul
drops into cupping hands,
my last breath becomes dew.
Let God drink of me.

COPYRIGHT/ all rights reserved/ 2013

Sunday, June 23, 2013

MAGPIE...Prompt #174

                                   STANLEY KUBRICK/ for Look Magazine/ 1949

THANK YOU, Tess at Magpie Tales...


Breathe deeply, baby,
prove that you're a real big man.
And it's good for you


Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2013

Sunday, June 16, 2013

MAGPIE...Prompt #173

                                      THE PROMENADE, 1918, by Marc Chagall

THANK YOU, Tess..for Magpie Tales...


Licking my lips,
I swallow the taste
of last night's kiss.

You said that word,
the one with the heart
of a mayfly.

Giving up gravity,
believing that I too
have wings, I flew.

Your choreography
thrust me skyward,
enough to tease the wind.

Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2013

Monday, June 10, 2013

MAGPIE...Prompt #172

                                                      Charleston Farmhouse Door

THANK YOU, Magpie Tales....


Are you the lover
who's bluster
a plea
at my door,
tapped a code
at the transom?
The wind says,
let me in.

Fingers twitch
at the latch.
Rust flakes
into tiny daggers.

Your hands,
cup a caress
in search of the heat
of Hades.
Hephaestus says,
let me in.

You whistle
a melody
that flows
beneath the door.
Once again
you chant a promise.
Let me in.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2013

Sunday, June 2, 2013

MAGPIE...Prompt #171

                            WAKING, WALKING, SINGING, IN THE NEXT DIMENSION?
                                                     1979/ Morris Graves

THANK YOU, Tess, at  Magpie Tales....


A wounded crow rushes
through the entry to my veins.
I'm waiting for the scream,
but my mouth won't do as it's told.

Damage flies swiftly on bright wings,
a blot of crimson forms a Rorschach.
I swear it looks like a velvet Jesus.

I feel the delirium soaring,
spreading to the field of stars.

Hovering bird clutches,
knows the way of return,
hushes the throb,
lets a zephyr blow through me.

Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2013


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