Submissions still closed. Pieces added to the gallery only at my request, based on nothing more than the whim of the founder.
Oh, the pent-up frustration. I'm feeling better already.
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LullabiesLullabies by RichardLeach
I taught my tongue so many things -
I taught it lullabies.
I sang them softly to my sons,
until they closed their eyes.
I sang them for the wakeful world
and it raved on and on.
It would not rest, it did not heed
the song upon my tongue.
I sang them to my troubles then,
my own, so very near,
and when they fell asleep I saw
how sweet their faces were.
My sons awoke, the world raved on,
my troubles stirred and coughed.
"Sleep on a while," I softly said,
and sang again so soft.
MoreNinety nine candlesMore by TheLunaLily
on a devil's food cake
lined up in formation
like soldiers in uniforms,
blue and white striped,
standing tall and self-sacrificial.
The flare of ignition
burns the hairs in his nostrils
(but it's a special occasion).
Wax drips onto drugstore icing,
marking time as he breathes fire
and makes his wish.
Taking a rideTaking a ride by RichardLeach
I was riding my red bicycle, going down those power lines,
obeying the speed limits and reading all the signs.
I'd been to see Big Serious and now I was headed home,
sometimes being with that guy will make you feel alone.
My ice cream started melting, and so I ate it up,
my favorite flavor - ginger - in a cone and not a cup.
My consciousness was smiling, my heart was open wide,
I began to have the feeling Lord Ganesh was by my side.
The power lines, they took me home, and I was glad to see
my dearest one was waiting there to shine her light on me.
Images: :iconsirobnaiv: :iconatj1958: :iconeliana
Exhume and InhaleI have tasted God, he tasted of sweet wineExhume and Inhale by sunshinegypsy
and sandalwood, the deep forest you lay down
in the moss and twigs, scattered like finger-bones,
your spine ripped out, curved like a bow.
I couldn't find your heart, trembling
against the opened cage of your ribs,
under the gently speaking rustle,
leaves unfurling, the dance of sunlight
slinking between your vertebrae:
piccolo skims and birchskin shaves.
I fled. Your right shoulder blade beckoned still,
unfolding like the slow feathers of a wing,
your wrist flung out, palm
up, gasped my name,
but I could not stay, only
strained your skin with oleander tea,
drifted, drifted with the tumbleweed,
the blind breath of the wind,
and I had tasted God, birdsong on my tongue,
soaring, sweeping, sweet and free.
leavetakingi.leavetaking by Avallynh
the world is brighter where
dregs of strangers' revels remain --
i keep this half-light for my own.
i'll stay until the wind sighs a scotch-and-smoke
cliché, til the Muscadet's slipped from the lip
of my wayward
hello.(i know you're there before you do.)
your night is told in
patchouli-pulse wanders; mine,
in whorls of liqueur-breath. come
close and i'll find the warp
through the weft, the trails telling tales
in synaesthesia --
Platinum Blonde's been 'round and gone.
(-- closer, find syllables strewn
in an exhale's wake; stolen from my throat-
ful of careless farewells, spin and sway
and beg you stay.)
time enough for a kiss-
and-never-tell, for a stumbling waltz
to the dissonance of crystal-shatter odes
to the summerlong i knew you --
we were(n't) meant for more than this.
morning goes right through you,
and breathes a thousand fortunes in-
to shards of (our) stranger starfall.
. . . marry him.. . . marry him. by thetaoofchaos
he will gleam like photons
tangled in sheer joy.
where i harvest dead localities,
he will sheath the touchstone nerve.
his voice will soothe great quandaries
like growling cicadas solve summer nights.
his eyes will break into blessed anointments.
his lips will pierce the frighteners
and spill their silver antidotes -
a cure for every blasphemy,
a pardon for every criminal.
remember who he was,
a mystic lisping empathy
for pure, unbottled moments,
a silence worming through bicycle wind,
a gender scribbled on a brainstorm,
the flashing of satori
in the scatter-shooting cosmos,
a wonderer, wondrous
with no guilty body,
a boy's fond familiar
who keeps a tail feather of god
stuffed in a bag of beetle legs
and cats eye marble galaxies.
i suppose i was never
the one who was meant to apron you,
to feed the thirsty virginities
that open up
beneath your womb. . .
i'm not the one to paper you
with sanctuaries and closet troves,
doctor, doctordoctor, doctor -doctor, doctor by ClioStorm
i would like you to
analyse the physicalities
and electric abnormalities
of this disease. tell me,
pleaseibegyouplease that you
can see the unseen: the low
stretching out like
a strange growth from
the heart; the nerves
trapped in claustrophobic
entities and continually
space lacking itself
over and over; the blood
travelling at a velocity
so fast so constant that
it is not moving at all;
the beat. the beat. the beat.
Witches MarketMidnight fell like an old black bird;Witches Market by riparii
I meant to wait for you.
There were tables rich with
amethyst and pearls,
and fragrance by the fistful,
mint and petrichor.
I meant to wait for you.
You were gliding through the haze
with your knotted bag half full-
shadows flicked their tongues
above your knees;
you meant to look for me.
Moments ran like mice;
a silver pot, a cup of tea.
She stank of vinegar and thyme-
the hand was hers, the heart was mine.
Her iron eyes reflected flame;
she took my lungs, she took my name,
though you had meant to look for me,
and I had to meant to wait for you
amid the black salt and the brew.
Ash for the handle,
Birch for the brush,
Willow for the cord that binds the twigs.
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