Centenarian rock
diamond set in golden rings
still shines the passion of youthful love.
Three generations of women
hands adorned in conversation
gestures through time.
My hand, etched with fine lines
like my mother’s
and her mother’s.
Ancestry defined by blood
through blue hills of vein
solidified in stone.
Daily Post Photo Challenge: Up-Close.
I’ve searched a lifetime for my soul mate.
I lie here on the ground, looking up, feeling down.
Rock edges poke through new mown grass
like questions nudging through my spine.
I start to ruminate, cogitate
mull over impossible possibilities.
This much I know, our world is round
and I exist right here, right now, on this orb.
If I could somehow push the earth
compress its latitudes,
would I find you, prone like me
somewhere, deep below?
Just a diameter away,
lying still, listening for my breath
through curves in our globe
searching too, looking for me?
To live in shadows doth chill the soul
and thus my invitation,
come with me to greet the morn.
Together, we shall find the sun
the light and sustenance for our way.
Her red silk scarf
tossed aside in passion
lies still on dew kissed grass.
A slight breeze unfurls,
curls beneath its folds
ripples flow from edge to edge.
The morning storm
not expected,
rolls in stronger gusts.
Gossamer strands arc
higher and higher still
until vivid crimson
shatters darkened skies.
Come join me at the dawn
lift up your hopes,
lay bare your heart.
I promise this, my love
our dreams shall soar
with the morning sun.
In response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge: the dawn is symbolic of new beginnings.
What stories will you tell?
Tales shared from mouth to mind
or those visible in sepia tones.
The giant oak’s shade
comfort for so many,
bark rough hewn and silent.
If I leave this place,
will you remember?
If I step into the shadows
blend into the crowd,
where will you be?
I will still be here
in your universe,
or not.
Chamber for metamorphosis
cells, toes, body, mind
meld, breathe, grow within
seek and find
passage to the world.
Cord nurtured life
cut, but not.
Tether stretches,
sometimes taunt
always there.
Fingers clasp, spirit touches
eyes smile, seek and find.
You were the beginning.
You are the constant star
an infinite circle of love.
rain
torrents of rain
petals fall
fruit drops
worms appear
on cracked sidewalks
you turn and walk away
my heart drowns
in rivulets of despair
Through tiers of life
your spirit
my muse
always.
In response to the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: what (or who) is your Muse?
lillian the home poet 