Tag: Nature

“Ballade for the Ultimate Seeker” by Stavyah.

Like the Sun that shines, radiating bright light, a guru disseminates thoughts lofty and wise. Using his power, directness, and mystical might, pulls you out of every single and dangerous vice. Get closer to your guru, feel the spiritual rise, an elevation that could get you to the worlds beyond; but if you utter untruths or say blatant lies, a guru will not deride … Read More “Ballade for the Ultimate Seeker” by Stavyah.

in their dying, in their shadows.

In their dying in their shadows I will see your eyes. As the blood-flow             of living things, dear white shells and white bone fall into the ground, mama’s bony fingers             whiten the earth,                                     where all else fades and leaves; daddy glissades in the ice             picking flowers for us all, and soon they fade and all summer death around ankles they … Read More in their dying, in their shadows.

Kevin Morris Guest Post.

I am very happy to have a guest post on here by poet Kevin Morris. It not only features his amazing work but as well a bit of background on how nature influences his poetry. Please continue reading below, and do check out his links to find more of his publications and work. As well, if you would like to have a guest post … Read More Kevin Morris Guest Post.

“Our Secret Light” by The Blue Eyed Barbarian.

When Moonlights I show you my demons, when Moonlights I show you my dance, when Moonlights I show you my death.  Tonight your beautiful hair glitter and your irresistible light open up the first door to my mystical soul and then throw it away. I have a few more keys to work on towards your emotional journey. We are finally untied..  Up against a wall? …As the moonlight comes?.., … Read More “Our Secret Light” by The Blue Eyed Barbarian.

into loneliness.

I broke away from the ocean, in through our eyes, the waves at high tides, the roccia parts and splits where Moses split the Red Sea. In the womb of wind,           limbs and bones outline the fading star,      and the world seemed to drown in yellow velleities of loneliness. Eyes to the dream, an echo, a bang      in aqueous shivers, bled … Read More into loneliness.

out of reach.

A wish, these solitudes in dark wept, midnight                exits in a dream, torturing you; emerges      in oceans, as if the face of the sea-light                is in a trance of wander, a dark mind urges       this end of game; the half-lit stretch devours death quietly in hyacinth winter as we left;                a rock rises along the carved windfall, disowned by … Read More out of reach.

Horror House Wednesday Flash Fiction Contest #3

Hello and welcome back! We are on week number three of the Horror House Flash Fiction Contest. This week’s prompt is a painting: You can submit your entries in this comment section or even put a link of the piece from your blog in the comments, and I will decide on a winner the next Tuesday—the day before the prompt starts over again. Everyone’s … Read More Horror House Wednesday Flash Fiction Contest #3

A sea becomes.

Of one memory, one for the end of the dark does not lie, I will not lie in it; darkness perfused I shut the window; here he bleeds, here he lies, though nothing is there. In furrows, mercy, it is laughable. The Earth succinct in waves in a lonely larva the dead poet’s dreams. Stand under my umbrella, we embrace in impassioned poverty of … Read More A sea becomes.

no promises.

         The sea and mind in gelid movement acquiesces to the euphoria           in the distant laughter      of gradual woven lines of darkness; let it die a thought in the consciousness of bare winter      after dark and dark a derangement in the cold      falls inside glistening      we’re hiding in the silence; I hide within my mind. No promises of mine      … Read More no promises.

“Pretty Little Sparrow” by Lauren M. Hancock.

Warbling, a pretty sparrow, she’s come to visit thee, to spread wonder and good tidings, perfection uttered, pure beauty to be seen. She scratches around the back garden, throwing her head back, intelligent eyes glinting occasionally, she is here with great promise, her effect is really something that needs to be felt to be believed. Suddenly, inspiration flows through your left hand, images, metaphors, … Read More “Pretty Little Sparrow” by Lauren M. Hancock.

My Monster.

In a dream be it my monster in the eyrie of leave-taking be it my death for the throes into the sea; my monster in the dark lassitude unsure but illuminated in which there is the torpid leg of maple sap warmed with hisses of the sea; my monster through branches befalls me.

Flowers for you.

flowers for you bursting like a ghost; red and white violets that were in a market shop your eyes hunted them and they were yours; as the street calls out in loneliness the telephone replays with your voice engraved in a blue marble vase by the sea gone.