He reminded me of an old tree full of whorls and gnarls and knots in wood.
he could hear love humming…
I know these woods won’t cough you up, / Shame my face with my own blood, / Slash my face with thick red love, / Scream your name, your name…
Go on. Open it, sweet one. I dare you.
i’ve been reading virigina woolf and emily dickinson lately. Her breast is fit for pearls, / But I was not a `Diver’ - / Her brow is fit for thrones / But I have not a crest. / Her heart is fit for home - / I – a Sparrow – build there / Sweet twigs and twine / My perennial nest. - Emily Dickinson there were a few things that inspired these words on this blustery rainy day: Writing Workshop’s Exercise Four white witch, black heart / Mariposa, / I bet no-one’s called you that since we lived in our shack by the sea with olive trees and peeling green shutters; when you twirled fire, I painted the sun and all we needed was lemons, salt, and Jose Cuervo. / I wouldn’t miss your launch. / Where was he today? / I don’t care about him. / Here I am. / Does he know you howl at quarter moons? Does he know you drew constellations in black ink on my skin? Do you remember us… cocooned in our chrysalis of tangled salty dreams and coffee-creamed skin? / Your words betray you, my love. Why is your book full of love letters to a girl who wears my middle name and has a scar along her jawline, just like me? / I know that when you come out to your car, you’ll search for this scrap of paper under your windscreen wipers. You’ll hate yourself for it but that’s what you’ll do. / Here I am. copyright © 2008, Holly Ringland. a few days after writing this piece, i stumbled across leith o’malley and his space here on redbubble. when i came upon the mesmerising black butterfly. it was like finding my words and Grace’s heart freshly plucked and arranged in a vase of charcoal and magic.
Rise again the day is young / and we shall dance in the Fretternear Woods
WOW! / I have found another utterly stunning artist new to the bubble / May I introduce you to Fiona Jack / Her photo of Fretternear Woods inspired this poetry faster than I could twig what I was writing – I thought I was going to say “Perfect capture of frost in the early morning” or something but tada! there was this poem! / Sometimes it scares me when writing takes over! :O) / Go check out this lady’s fantastic artwork – this photo by the way is the only one she has in her folio :O) / Enjoy! :O) FEATURED!! In the Melbourne & Victoria Group
Exposes animal abuse which is everywhere. Many ways to help these innocent animals. Animal adoption. Touching, heartwarming.
Ridge was adopted from an animal shelter in Bangor, Maine in 2000. After spending the first three years of his life in utter terror. Many atrocious acts were committed against this sweet dog. His life with us was one of mutual respect, loyalty, and love. He came to us as a very neurotic, frightened young dog. I like to think he left with a sense of pride in the wonderful and handsome dog he became.
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Every night when I sleep / I hear breathing so deep / When I turn you take my hand / We fly over the land / Over terrain, over sea / Only y…
Thank you, Earl!!!! / Please check out my friend Earl McCall’s other awesome artwork & writings on RB /
They sat in the dimly light room, one facing the other. At times, he could swear he was looking at a mirror reflection of a 20 year ol…
In honor of a super hero.
i dance in the shadows / in the woods past the moon / singing a song / my very own tune / waiting for my lover / to come with one rose / a lov…
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for so long she was blind / then their bodies intertwined / for him, over and over again she pined…
This is about physical, emotional, mental, and political abuse, and trying to find peace of mind through it all. It is also about being kept in a cage, and the losses this causes, such as, in the last lines of this work, lost love.
Paul wandered into his shop. His frustration with his own loneliness made him angry. Letting out a large cry, he grabbed an axe.
This is work in progress. The story is all in my head. Just trying not to rush it. Any feedback is appreciated. The idea must be credited to the songs of The Velvet Underground… Stephanie Says and Here She Comes Now from my favorite Saturday morning CD.
“Nature cares very little for the thoughts of Man.” someone whispered to her from behind the trees.
Rough draft bit of the usual story.. parallel universe, strange world, weird gods, bad psychiatry
Obscured. / A silhouette in the woods / A crimson setting sun sinking / A hole in his lonesome heart / A bombshell in his mind; ticking… / ...
An old piece as well. My first attempt at a well polished poem.
Her heart beats in my body. / Mine—always so distant from me—feels / It has no beat. / Maybe she feels mine equally close to her— / And hers …
a deeper understanding / only the two of us can understand
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