Pale as the flowers of the night, / Silent in the dark. / Full of mystery and seduction. / When the harsh glare fades / And the world falls q…
My dream was thus: / A wooded glade, and moonlight streaming down / like scarves of silk, so delicate, through trees and leaves / and to the…
Click for a larger view: /
Coal dark night has ended, / a day of diamonds dawns.
only heaven knows!!
It’s dedicated to all Mothers and especially to my mum! / Love you mum! it’s for you!
Ogres and Watchers came and dared / But No One in her dream / much cared
this came on the tails of the art first.. new for me.
cancer & capricorn / / :)
Come to this secret garden / You have been here before / Tasted exquisite fruit / Bathed / Immersed your senses / in its silent moons…
that charcoal night of / dusky vines / and earth swallowing earth,
redecorate
the sun always rises on a new day
on the feathered back / of liquid night / so black the stars turn blue / bladed wings slice the silence / crimson wounds of movement / run wil…
mango scented love story
. dedicated to you… o3.1o.2oo9 . i planned to do a drawing today / but a dream seeped in through a button hole / and brought the constellation / the broken moon / and the river along… so / i made a sandwich with them… and i’ll have a half for my lunch / and the other half for my dinner… : ) .
. / I just watched you fly fly fly away, / Over the town of Algarve, / busy with saving face and beggars dreams / Nuance of steaming clams
I love Billy’s Work.. This photo in particular always seems to draw me back to it time and time again. I don’t seem to be able to break down in words via critique of my fascination for this piece. Leave it to Billy to shoot this not only for the contrasting elements but for the story that is presented here in one of his favorite towns called Algarve. / Thank you again Billy for the inspiring work you bring to my heart. Bag Wash /
While I am left to walk on my bare feet / And calloused toes / Bleeding sometimes
Growth is inevitable.. no matter how you think you will never change… TERILEE AND I WERE ON THE SAME WAVE LENGTH THIS MORNING.. So without requesting art from my buddy.. / She read my Mind!!!! / I love Her! / A Moment in The Continuum /
Beating all the while / Their style, / Tango / One-Step / Rumba / Then a Samba / A shimmy / And a Can Can / Will do
Robin Monroe / experiments with life. She is an amazing painter and combines her work in PS sometimes and produces such vibrant sensual pieces. She asked me to look at this work.. And They Danced to see if I could feel a poem to accompany its movement and explosive color. / Oh my did I!! Spilling out of me like I was the one she had painted! I love her work and I enjoy being a part of her life here at RB. / Thanks so much for Honoring me Robin!! / XOX
My mask is faded and for that I am eternally grateful / So that I am not reminded of it’s wearing / On me
Ribbons and Masks
........A scratching at your windowsill / A skeletal hand that catches / the flyscreen in its bony tips / the fear only enhances…............
I don’t have a particular poem but I am greatly inspired by Edgar Allen Poe a brilliant storyteller of the horror genre. / I wanted to write something that he would read and be inspired by. / In a style flowing from his era (1840’s) / Storys like The Raven or Telltale heart all brilliant. This is my attempt at his style.
Your scent / hangs / off of my skin, like dreams / from a poor man’s / pocket: endless / and loud; / so loud, I want to break into a sprin…
This is a poem of the senses: scent inparticular, and how it can make a lover swoon, sweat, and make them raise their love’s left behind shirt to their closed, eye face, taking in the only remnants left of the one they had to leave behind, for whatever reason. it is a poem of longing, sense, and living in this sometimes, unforgiving earthly world. P.S-I just wrote this yesterday, so it may need a little tweeking yet, but I wanted to post it anyway. :)
slipping into dream / we go to the dark gods
Written 29 July 2009.
Crowing / against the haphazard dreams of an angel, / she gently lies / her guard / down. Placing it cross-ways like a sword - / her sentr…
This is a pure, strait line, stream of consciousness poem that i wrote yesterday, with really not a clue as to its meaning, other than it came out just like this, with a clear picture in my mind. My muse sent this to me. It may have to do with a nightmare I had a few nights ago, of which i also wrote a strange poem…perhaps I’ll post that one, too. / Any insight would be wonderful as to its meaning. :)
In the lost saliva of my sleep / In the form of pools of drool / On my satin pillow / Dwells a hidden Atlantis
I was thinking about how I woke up this morning with a face of drool and had a good night rest with an addition of a swell dream / Face matted in drool …lol / But hey what a dream…..smilez
the stain of you
recurrent dreams
As I uncurl my cramped fingers, I release the little fangs I’ve been carrying through the seven hours and fifty three minutes of slumber.
kiss me in that dark of time / that lies between thought’s waking / and the soul’s ascension / to dream
Engel!: Es wäre ein Platz, den wir nicht wissen… written during my maths final. / 13 november 2009.
RedBubble is a great place to find art, design, photos and writing from over 80,000 talented people.
On stunning greeting cards, awesome t-shirts or beautiful prints to hang on your walls.
It’s really simple. If you’re not happy with your purchase for any reason, we’ll fix it.
Since February 2007 we’ve shipped over 302,000 items to more than 70 countries around the world.
Sign up for your free account, upload your work, join some groups and share your creative genius with the world.