To start us off on our journey, here’s an image that touched me with its simplicity and the symbolism within.
Walking The Rail by © Tamarra BaVincio
This poem seemed to fit the image like a glove. An independent, strong spirit runs through them both.
My Demands by © mermanda
My demands are;
that you never walk away
that you sit here with me till my dying day
that you look into my eyes
and never tell a lie
that you love me for who I am
not just as if I were another girl
or another fling
another trophy to mount in a frame
but that you see me
and know my heart
truly want to know this girl with all her scars
with your heart and mind
want to dive inside
make sure that you know
that with us together
we could conquer the world
I am difficult
and never false
I have strength in me
that is rumbling inside
I know that I feel
fire burning deep within us
so when you see me
that when I demand these things from you
I look in the mirror and demand them too
And here’s a strong self portrait to continue.
Pink self by © fourthangel
Somehow the poem reminded me of the way we change and ‘become’ (if things go well).
Untitled by © RhythmImpulse
The quilt that once wrapped
Itself around your eyes
Braided rainbows are heaped
Upon the hardwood floor.
Your pupils are in bloom,
Like a daisy that blushed beneath
The kiss of spring’s minty breath.
And all I could do was watch
When the milky light flooded from your
Cheekbones and eyelids
To flush the midnight sky.
Daylight touched everything -
It grasped treetops and grazed rivers
And hugged snowcapped mountains,
But it will never hold me
The same way that the glimmer in
Your eyes once did.
Sometimes we get stuck though, looking back to the past instead of forward to the future.
My look is lost in past by © Moon Black
And sometimes we’re lost within ourselves, looking inwards trying to find ourselves again.
My heart screams but no one hears the silence by © SimplyRed
beneath the lavender bush
a quiver of sorrow
drifts gently by
on Autumn breeze
unfamiliar to many
but blinded eyes
my very being
all my senses
not ignored only
And then there are the masks we wear – inside and outside – and the way they make us lose our way.
Shores Of The Manic Sea by © Agent7
This (in my humble opinion) is the perfect partner for the image.
cry wolf by © April Mansilla
And here he steps into my flesh again
Claws at my insides
Breaks my heart
I run but it is
Never far enough from…
I sit before you
with my red eyes
Wanting you to save
Has caught me
I can’t keep dreaming of being
Pulled by the legs
With grounded thoughts
Only in my fingernails
That will soon be bit
Off with nervous
Rendering me back here
Over and over
In my crimson cape
I know there is
It is not that easy to cut
The feeling from my belly
You said you haven’t given up
As I cried
The wolf is
Coming once again
There are so many ‘selves’ we carry around with us and we shed them like skins but something always seems to ‘stick’ as a reminder of who we once were.
Untitled by © Mushda
In the artist’s own words:
Do you still remember when we were little and we were playing in the park, and you asked me what happens when we die?
I said you forget everything, everything.
Yes, even me.
You do not want to die, never forget.
The remains of what we used to have were taken away with the softest squeeze.
How did I forget?
It’s a good thing to remember where we come from to draw strength and purpose back into our busy lives.
the tree by © Sally Omar
history is carved in the bark
love found on the branches
her trunk filled with history
surviving years of beautiful sun
soft breezes and torrential rain
scars from lightning
she stands strong and tall
as her leaves dance to the ground
her beauty is unsurpassed
her secrets never to be told
her wisdom overflowing
more than any man could comprehend
i press my ear to her
and hear the whispering of the ages
the laughter of the spirits
her warmth fills my soul
i am born again within
her knowledge and forgiveness
i am one with nature’s
most beautiful gift
… especially on those days when “domestic bliss” wakes up the Cinders in us all.
Domestic Bliss by © Mindy McGregor
Here it is all summed up neatly (and a little mysteriously).
The Lost Chronicle: genX²- by © Jenifer DeBellis-
drought is this season, a low pitch
Which way to the waterway?
depth = time² [squared]
divide those grains,
those stains upon that tainted tongue
and groove, dovetailed for perfection
Change direction: dissection
Tied down, stripped away,
a slow peel, layer by layer
No prayer for this torture chamber
Death moves slow; the path of Sloth itself
precision in procession is key
Words fall upon this barren earth
Ashes to ash turns dust into dust
Seven will consume seven
Prophecy of one = fourteen/two
Open up the wellspring of knowledge!
It was easier to move around
the technical aspects
than to carry the shaft
down to the hellish pits of waiting.
Nothing to steal here. Batter up!