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Literature Text
Warm air snowed with floating pollen,
Colpate and sulcate,
First scents of pine and wild grass.
The flotsam and jetsam of spring.
In a tattered notebook she sketches,
Perfect Kookaburra on redgum,
Upon cedar easel, with flaking legs
Nesting Lyrebirds in dark wood.
At twilight she shows me, through chaos,
Andromeda and Indus and later,
Cupping my ears with soft hands,
She guides me to Lyra and marks me Aquarius.
Naked by Firelight she moves,
Soft mounds and aching curves.
A fleshy flicker through flame.
Calling me into her, my cosmic muse.
Colpate and sulcate,
First scents of pine and wild grass.
The flotsam and jetsam of spring.
In a tattered notebook she sketches,
Perfect Kookaburra on redgum,
Upon cedar easel, with flaking legs
Nesting Lyrebirds in dark wood.
At twilight she shows me, through chaos,
Andromeda and Indus and later,
Cupping my ears with soft hands,
She guides me to Lyra and marks me Aquarius.
Naked by Firelight she moves,
Soft mounds and aching curves.
A fleshy flicker through flame.
Calling me into her, my cosmic muse.
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Literature
A Gift
I keep thinking about burying myself in your embrace, my face in your hair. And while I regret the fact that we both seem to be too much of damaged, quietly broken cowards to even talk about that night when we so naturally, seamlessly, gravitated towards each other, seeking warmth and comfort underneath the covers - using our sleep-pliant bodies to protect each other from the night - I am glad that it happened at all. Because to know that it is not a thing of fiction to actually feel like that in someone's arms… I am afraid you will never know how much of a gift it was that you unwittingly gave me. Still, I would give near anything for
Literature
lightkeeping
As you pick up the lantern in front of you, you find it filled with a busy, buzzing flurry of lights. Somebody stuffed fireflies into this one - not the proper thing at all. You unfasten the latch, open the door; the little bugs stream out gratefully. They bathe the wayside in a faint glow for a moment, then vanish in the pitch-black of the Long Night one by one.
You settle down cross-legged and gently put the empty lantern onto your lap to dream up a star.
Literature
A Gift You Can Never Lose.
There are certain songs that invoke memory and emotions in us. Songs that touch you to your core and make you think of someone. Be it the first song you and your significant other danced to, or the song that always seems to come on when you are hanging out with that one friend. Or even a song you heard after a breakup or on the day of a funeral.
This is not always a happy thing, or even a pleasant thing. But it still resonates to our core and invokes that feeling, that longing for that person. This almost pseudo nostalgia of times gone by. It is a phenomenon that no poet or writer can ever explain, because the resonance is different with eac
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Comments6
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I really like the mysterious story telling in the first three paragraphs. The fourth one is a bit too realistic for my taste. I really like the references to cosmic constellations and the closing sentence though. You have a fantastic way with words.