Sunday, December 03, 2017

Earth-Air-Water Magic

imagine raindrops:

in a huffy puffy cloud
metallic silver blue black velvet crush
a bloom swells to bursting
giving way
in a flushing rush
no colours bleeding dry from the sky
energy whistling down

running up wild rivers in the storm
a stream rippling open on the road
in a heart's beat I am soaked
naked in sky's grasp
drowning in this skin
reeling from the touch
opening wide to receive
pleasure of this roaring gift
slathering my spirit free

raindrops imagine:

a kiss a coming, a kiss a coming
let me slip between your lips, curling your tongue
bathing your evergreen flesh, fresh of the body, my love

(c) wildchild47

penned for mlmm's Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille - November 29th - Free Style

image found on Pixdaus

Saturday, December 02, 2017

Looking Now

Reginald Southey - Lewis Carroll (1857)

Oh how far you have travelled through the pane
a looking glass polished to reveal a transformation
Go ask Alice, she knows, of course,
standing to reason in the unseasonable unreasonable world
but did you expect to find these skins
such mocking monkey minded men -
oh the cruelly delicious grape of the loins a stirring
play on the summer's breeze, in good light and time
listen to the man as he plucks the bass, all cool jazz
the skeletons are silent now -

bearing it upright, stiffly walking tall
unless the elixir calls for small
but be not overly concerned, there is still ample burning
in the disclosure exposure
and the rabbit and hatter are well hidden
tucked in the bosom
of the silver bodiced queen's red dream
and you, so sombre, sober in this ageless portrait
what of the scandals, and you, not even wearing sandals

- so out of time, in the winter of discontent -

but wait - the dormouse left a note
he ran away with a beaver, in a pitched fever
so it's all fine and well, laying the cards on the table
for the cat is out of his bag, a saber toothed tiger
oh so causally hiding his stripes in a black frocked coat

- wait, did some one call you an old goat, once upon a time -

it matters not, you know
time has split itself in a wide smile
facing you now, when then, was tomorrow
lying in yesterday's bed
dreaming of the fair skinned, dark haired girl
who stole your heart
waking now, which is then, wearing her face
hair and petticoats

(c) wildchild 47

penned for Real Toad's December's Camera Flash

Friday, December 01, 2017

Shedding Skins

Oh how the Gemini moon lies
full swollen bitch
her lips brimming cancerous silver spoon fed theories
but a home is not foundations and bricks
when made of glass, masquerading as middle class
but such treasonous vows
in sickness and health until death will you part
such poisoned tipped words, a dart through the heart
but I am not the dutiful, obedient wife
or your precious but precocious baby child
I am she who howls in the wild
cursing for the ancestors beyond the pale
for the ghost voices crying, lost in the veils
of all the midnights as they pass
I raise my arms in chanting praise
a Baba-ylonian chorus of ancient words
slip as my hips sway to rooted beats
a flickering spark roused in the belly of the beast
for the earth never lies -
as the sparks ignite from my fingertips
they flush the flames of the pyre
and I call out your names
this is your burning that waits
for your cruelty misplaced
calling me Medusa by name
for a baby's breath in the speaking of truths
so it is I crack the full mother moon in two
and burn the sun to ash
for I bathe in the eve of the new
stitching skins, these seams cover the scars and wounds -
you can't crush bones set in stone
or the spirit housed in the body
- this is the truth of home

(c) wildchild47

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Lost Soles

God collects dirty socks
as we shore up
barefoot in the sand
gathering sea shells
the washing of the waves
chases our toes as we wheel
screeching grey gulls skull capped
we have shed our bright yellow feathers
budgies who trill no more
we're mismatched identities
loose in lazy-lipped ribbing
thoroughly worn and poorly heeled
all the while nesting in
the tall scrubbed grass
a pink daisy-flower
embroidered bootie
waits to be found


penned for The Tuesday Platform on Read Toads

*note: this is also posted on my wordpress site: here

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Life-Death Cycles

the spiral circles in out
sow seeds in spring or fall -
listen for the crow

a lone crow calls out
turn not your face from the sight
walk steady and light paced
feathered wings will brush all souls
as surely as the firefly dies

fate or chance, won-lost
the moon weeps not for the sun
life deals the ready hand
dream by starlight as days burn
sleep with the dead in due time

as first breath begins
so are seeds wind carried
life ends in equal measure


penned for a selection of CDHK's November's month long exploration of The Rubyiat by Omar Khayyam