. Layering and playing continues. . . . . At this point, i enjoy different parts as individual compositions more than the canvas as a whole. Thought… A card collection of three or four different parts. . . . ~ Just as a body, though one, has many parts,Continue reading “layers and parts”
. . . a child’s eyes a child’s heart open in the wonder of not knowing . . . .
. . . there is a current that flows . no one has seen where it comes from or where it goes . but it makes it’s way blowing through hearts open like fresh air through a window on a summer’s day . . .
. . . did you see those two? put ’em together, baby, and you just know, lines they gonna get crossed. oh yeah… that’ll play-out like sweet emma. i can hear them bells ringin’ now. . . .
. . . paint a picture with colourful words from a grace-filled alphabet lift me up with periwinkle and tickle me with pink . . . .
. . . make a way softly swept across the sky make it a summer’s day full of ripe possibilities that become and linger on the tongue long after the setting of a peach stained sun . . .
. . . as my mind spins mulberry thread to weave into a silken dream thereupon the edge of sleep i step on through . . .
. . bring the gift of time upon a sapphire pillow replace a falling star in the blue of night while the room spins a long long tale of sunflowers touching the sky . . .
i am thankful for a husband that does not believe i am thankful for medication for depression i am thankful for my hair getting thinner i am thankful for droopy skin under my chin i am thankful for car windows that don’t work i am thankful for age spots i am thankful for aContinue reading “orange”
. . . you’re a sweet orange playing the blues with no rhyme sticky words speaking understanding of my wicked heart that will not listen to you when it hears the whisper of words that sing in golden hue . . .
Stratoz: a life unfolding . Sophie Munns: visual electica . And the Other Thing Is… . A Different Story . Rita Smirna . PoetiClaims: adjust the words, control the damage
. . i am a drop of rain slowly making my way down your neck and into your shirt and you thought you were covered with that blue collar insurance that she sold you that day on the subway . .