Abandoned Honeymoon Suite

Image source: mikemelrinho

Beltane

Be merry and drink to the verdant Lord of the Wood The earth waking as we frolic The Lord waking this very hour As you ravish me beneath the bower.

Dressed in cloth of wood and field The Lord strides out to join the dance Regal in his leafy splendor Wise knowing grin, gaze fierce and tender.

Darkness gathers and the fire licks the sky The Lord is dancing faster now We follow in like cadence Spilling our mead, full of revelry But utterly devoid of prudence.

The morning comes the Lord retreats Back into the misty glen Pious life resumes, muddled we retreat from the ring of stone But how can I forget you dear, nine months hence, Raising our “Merry-begot” alone.

-Skye

Title: “Craving for Power” Author: Ilo Kunst Medium: Pen and ink on paper. Source:Beautifulbizarre.

Mad Kings with Blood on Their Hands

Psychotic Charles IV slew his own knights

Paranoid Ivan T. tortured subjects on Saturday afternoons

Oh, and don’t forget George III ranting incoherently as

America broke away Swearing off kings forever…

-Skye

Source: magnificent-winged-beast

Nyx

Look at you carrying around night in jar Daughter of Chaos

Empty your vessel as the sun retreats And let me sleep under the liquid deep

Endless Ocean Of universe Sprinkled With stars.

-Skye

This is Wyoming 

The barbed fence undulates into the horizon The long rollers of the deep old sea feathered with grass Dotted with pronghorn and ghosts of buffalo

Capped in bright sky

The great plain The red car zipping Through the simmering tar

The woman almost 50 The woman bright and lively after 70

Talk rolls back and forth

Some thunder

There have always been hard lines Etched in old oceans There has always been wind cutting across the plane Changing everything

 -Skye’s Poem

Image credit: Stephen Shames, Asleep in Car, from series Outside the Dream Child Poverty in America, c.1985 Source: letaobloquista

American Dreamer

The mist on windows hides the grubby face Lit softly in some dream

Big dreams Among the brown bags And beer cans

The rusty sagging car A leaky vessel For anyone’s dreams Big or small

I turn my head Going by.

-Skye

On Loving a Poet

A poet speaks Imprecisely

Leaves room between words

Your voice so exacting in your desire terrifies her

As if you would pin her meanings to the pages

Turning wonder Into dead butterflies

You love her but cannot fathom her language

You drown in it Reaching for her

Placid on the far shore She throws pages and pages

Written for you Into the wind

-Skye

Source: elzamine

Life’s Detritus

Mundane bits of life’s detritus Collected and pressed In a leather-bound book

Bits of butterfly wings Flowers of spring Flowers of high summer A seed or two for good measure

Carefully preserved To revisit later In the twilight When one pulls the bits of one’s Life together Into one last story.

-Skye

Image: https://www.instagram.com/p/CB2NwjDFn0g/ Source: llovinghome

HAIKU- Clothesline

Summer sun dried clothes My chemise courting daisies Dancing on the line

-Skye

Image: Poland,1932 Photography: Henryk Poddebski, Poland 1932 Source: polishcostumes

Dziado

Came from Slavic wheat Farming Polish fields under the sun Breaking bread with his mother and sister At end of day

Peasants they owned nothing Not the land Not the wheat Not the roof above them On cold winter nights

War washed him from the continent And off to America With his wife and baby girl

And though he is long dead I still see him

Caring for his cows Feeding his pigs Cooking his eggs With his garden onions Under his own roof.

-Skye

Brassaï • Notre Dame Gargoyle-Paris, 1932

Source: afrouif

Brassai and His Conversation with a Gargoyle, 1932

Tucked into Paris between the two world wars

You came to me with the bright lights twinkling on softly rising city noises

And caught me in my common pose rain worn contemplative knowing nothing and everything

Yes, the photographer cried-

I saw this immediately the flash illuminated everything and nothing of you

How can that be old roof top friend that I only think of you in the rain

When in my grainy photo you are always here

-Skye