June 1, 2013 Sunday Whirl #111 Deep in the Bones/Prompt: http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com

Sunday Whirl  #111

vault, halls, swirl, crave, throat, wind, limbs, nimble, prairie, rapture, train, each

SAM_0526

Deep in the Bones
You have raided the vault
For the personal/universal
A plethora of images
Memory swirls with time
Deck the halls

Breath caught in throat
Wind knocked from lungs
Limbs useless
Like an insect
Trapped in your web
Skillfully woven

A magician
A wizard
A seer
Nimble in your ability
To explore past and present
Piece together
What is visible
Then imperceptible
Autobiographical/pandemic

Perhaps a surgeon
Who opens the viewer
And draws out from the bone
What is not known
Or consciously remembered

Ride the train
Across open prairie
Each image fading
As it appears

The viewer
Craves to know
What is behind each image
Why was it chosen
What is this about

Is in rapture
As he fills in the blanks
Tells his story
Minds his own memory
The story of man
Hidden deep in the bones

Note: Yesterday after a long day in the studio. The sun still shining, the wind howling like a banshie, I found in the mailbox, and catalogue from Glen Skien, about his show Mytho-poetic. His work is stunning. And I want you to know about him.  A rare and authentic artist! He has a blog:http://silentparrotpress.blogspot.com/2013/05/mytho-poetic-catalogue.html You can google Glen Skien for images.

________________________________

th-2

http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com

The Yellow Flowerpot

I lie on my back

Curled into the bottom

Of the yellow flower pot

How long have I been lying here

I cannot say

As my brain quit

The minute I died

And left the scene

My body dried

I lie upside down in

A yellow flower pot

When living

I lead a secret life

Stealth was my trade

So good at my job

No one noticed

When I dropped

Into the pot

And died

Without a sound

Lying on my back

Curled in the bottom

Of the yellow flower pot

July 5, 2012 Sunday Whirl #68

Sunday Whirl #68

 Taos Mountain

In Site of Taos Mountain
I wake
All is quiet
I navigate a pure course
The large purple sage
Near my front door
Hums with the activity
Of bees –yellow and black
The sun shines endless summer
Sets fire to desert floor

Stop…take a breath

Along the way
To the store
Thistles bloom lavender
In dried yellow fields
Sky a broken-hearted blue
Links to missing you
Marrow deep
Strangled tears
Gulping air

Stop…take a breath

Clouds coast
From west to east
Without anchor
Elephants, angels
Puppies and fandangos
Sounds of guitars
Drift across the mesa
Indigo evenings
Hide ports among the sage

Stop…take a breath

From the deck
The moon a golden coin
Dangling aloft
Just out of reach
A child’s game
Pitch the ball
Red Rover, Red Rover
Fireflies flicker
Thunder rumbles
Pens scatter across the floor

Stop…take a breath

I stand by the rail
On my cheek I feel
Your cool desert breathe
Long imprinted
Upon my soul

Stop…take a breath

Sternly you ask
What about the body
What to do
Set fire on the desert floor
Scatter my ashes here
With the Grandmothers
In site of Taos Mountain
My heart sinks to think of
When I will not be
But… I will be happy
To be a part of all eternity

Stop…

Note:  I realize I have created a different journey, than perhaps Brenda had in mind, with her holiday aboard the houseboat, but who knows where the words will take you?  I decided to make the “words” a dark red and bold, and then to highlight in color the “color words,” just for fun.

Note:  My blog somethingsithinkabout-annell-annell.blogspot.com has disappeared.  I am at a loss?