"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous." ~Anais Nin

30 June 2016

Poetry Wednesday #47

By ESO [CC BY 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

I dream the crescent moon

I dream the crescent moon—
Pouring out darkness into the sky
Wild-me running, night-hounded,
Chased and chasing madness.
I dream the hunter hunted,
The haunter haunted.
I dream the cold hours of darkness,
With miles to go before the sun.
Colors deepen,
Crimson running blue.
I dream the crescent moon—
Pouring out darkness into the sky.

22 June 2016

Poetry Wednesday #46

Pink Sky via Wikimedia Commons

Thoughts driving home after work

Pink sun,
Awash in a orange sky that's
Blued at the edges–
Daylight lingers now,
So, so long,
In high summer.
Daylight lingers, but
Darkness drops fast
And hard
Upon the awaiting world below.
And it's upon you–
Shadows hiding in shadows–
And for a moment,
Not even the stars are out.

15 June 2016

Poetry Wednesday #45

A crow was run over by a car in front of my house.  Photo by me.

Have you heard a heart breaking?

So, Death visited my street on Monday:
A crow, perhaps distracted by a mite,
Waited a moment too long to take flight,
And met a car that refused to give way.
It's broken-hearted mate desperately cried
As the crow struggled hard against it's fate,
But, broken and battered, it was too late—
The crow succumbed to injury and died.
'Tis a common occurrence in this life
That Death, as pale and quiet as the moon,
Steals in and away with loved ones far too soon,
All those who live–at some point–know this strife,
But the mate of the crow whose life was shorn
Cried so pitifully that I too mourn.

08 June 2016

Poetry Wednesday #44

Dancing with flour, apparently.  Neat image though.  Creative Commons through Pixabay.


I want to feel the fluidity of motion in my limbs,
The scrape of muscle against bone,
The pull and stretch of my joints
As my body shifts and flows.

I want to feel the arch of my spine,
The balance of my torso,
The elongation of my arms and legs,
Through my fingers and my toes.

I want to move, to dance, to move.
I want to spin and leap and laugh.
I want to bend and twirl and wobble
And fall.

There's not much worse than not moving at all.

01 June 2016

Poetry Wednesday #43

I apologize for missing last weeks poem.  It was drama-drama over here, and I was totally freaked out by the possibility of having to put down one of my cats.  Thankfully, Alice Strange (my youngest and least cat-like cat) is still with us.  But it was touch and go there for a while. ~Amber

http://www.ForestWander.com [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons


The sky is filled with the souls of stars
Who burned themselves out reaching this world of ours.
When we look up to the night sky
We see but phantoms of an age gone by.
They light the road to the world of dreams
Where everything is and is not as it seems.
These specters dance all through the night
Then fade away at dawn's first light.