Twinkling like a sapphire swimming in ink,
War-like lingering like
This smoldering coal in my blood
Brain barrier to beneficial behavior,
Where even yoga is all warrior,
Mindfulness a degradation to
Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry
Tagged #napowrimo16, Aphrodite, Ares, entropy, eros, Hephaestus, mars, mythology, napowrimo, night sky, poetry, quarks, time
Today I am grateful for:
Posted in Gratitude, Non-fiction, Prose
Tagged 10 Principles, Bernie Sanders, burning man, code, creativity, ethics, gentlemen, grace, gumbo, healing, heartache, Love, month, morals, pain, time, values, writing
Posted in Love, NaPoWriMo, Non-fiction, Personal, Traditional
Tagged DNA, drugs, eyes, Las Vegas, Love, magic, moon, mushrooms, napowrimo, napowrimo 2013, NaPoWriMo2013, nature, sex, smiling, time, writing
Today’s prompt comes from Napowrimo.net’s Days 23 and 24. Here is a traditional lipogram (utilizing any letter of the alphabet except for ‘e’) inspired by a work of art, that being Salvador Dali’s The Persistence of Memory. Had to get a bit creative with this one: hope you enjoy.
Posted in NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Traditional
Tagged Catalonia, cliffs, dreams, dripping, fantasy, memory. clocks, poems, poetry, Salvador Dali, Spain, The Persistence of Memory, time
Time twists in on itself,
forming a tesseract,
a Moebius strip of waiting to and making love with you.
Fingers claw at clothing,
praying for purchase of skin on skin,
subtle strokes of a collarbone,
of a shoulderblade,
of lips kissing infinitely,
our passion a desperate prayer on our tangled tongues,
calling God and each other and finding divinity in the sparks of
love that live in our eyes when we look at each other.
Your head against my shoulder,
as the film plays and you slip briefly, blissfully, into the Land of Nod:
I am sitting here/I am waiting for you there/
I am stroking your hair and your face gently/We are flying over all obstacles and avarices/
I am not imagining perfection to your breasts but drinking in how lovely you look when you’re sleeping/we are dream-logic lovers, married, parents, old and gray sweethearts still holding hands in a park/
I am basking in the glory of your love for me/I am basking in the glory of your love for me.
Posted in Love, Poetry, Slam
Tagged dating, dreams, kissing, Love, love-making, Moebius strip, physics, poetry, time
Blood on my hands, though it wasn’t the plan,
questioning which of us is really the also-ran;
her grace untam’d by the days that my conscience
takes dominance and she’s braised with my obstinateness face-to-face.
Traces of her strength still hang upon my brow,
her scent that fills me with doubt;
which way to face the prow of my ship,
have I slipped? Happiness sealed with the stamp on the writ?
Legitimate to labor on the fear of its pretenses,
given the vision of hindsight in the lenses;
flexes physics with a feigning of proportion,
quickly set to dormant, and feared abhorrent.
Posted in Love, Poetry, Traditional
Tagged aches, blame, blood, burning, conscience, habits, happiness, healing, heart, heartache, loam, physics, plan, pyre, resilience, scent, shit, strength, time, tools, wounds