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i need a rest,
a grass green moment
in a purple dress
a heart to beat against mine
da – dumm – da – dumm
a veil of pollen spread on my eyes
and lightblue tunes
singing soft songs
breathing against my breast
netting my lips with moist
morning dew, e r u p t i n g
when our tongues start to dance
flamenco
yeah – try and say it in 55 words.. i’m linking up with galen for g-man’s friday flash 55
(..and in case you care for a read, click the above player)
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packing bags for a Tour de Universe, loading my dragon
with all the clichés I can find (quite a few), binding most
of them on his clifty back and feed him some as a starter
(taste is not bad, at least if you’re a dragon) and off we go,
moon direction, mars direction riding on milky ways, heroes
of the galaxies. small dragon, even smaller me and so packed
with clichés that actually some of the stars may suffer and all
the poets, staring at the sky shouting
“NO, NO” “YOU CAN’T” “JUST DON’T”!!!!
eyes wide open in unrestrained horror and Luke Skywalker,
taking his red pen, marking, shaking his head and (IMHO)
he’s right…no? but out in cosmos, who cares? the earth is
small from here.. we hyphenate spaces & scatter small print
(upper case as well) light-handed like fluffy snow-flakes across
dark, forgotten and syllable-empty universes (the clichés like
it up here, they have no easy life on earth anyway) so they
somersault happily, enjoying their short-lived reign before
fading, dying down, disappearing in poetic black holes and,
rubbing my eyes, hugging my dragon (wouldn’t kiss him,
you know his breath.. too hot…), I start wondering if they ever
have existed and in case (just hypothetical) I’d start to cry,
moaning all the lost words – half-mast my prose flag, the tears
won’t fall but zero gravity would carry them so floatingly through
time and space.. and one day, you’d find them, frozen and
crystalline, wrap ‘em like a bead round your neck – relics of a
time when clichés used to mingle with poetry like moondust
with the american dream, an ongoing temptation… riding the
dragon, incognito (names are dangerous when you deal with
clichés), exploring those undercover spots, inhaling steamy
dragon-breath (including some fiery flames when he gets excited)
chills sliding down my neck and up my spine til I start shivering
(cause it feels so good..) and wonder if we should stay a bit and
together, dream the planet
increasingly blue
linking up with One Shot Wednesday – join us, write a poem or just jump over to read others. Sign up opens today at 5 pm EST
>i wish we had more fireflies
to dance in my garden on nights like this
when i can’t sleep & sit in the dark
and watch the black night sky
i would imagine they’d dance just for me
glaring like fen fires on the moor
before i fall asleep
on fresh mowed lawn
Friday flash 55 – tell a story in 55 words – and link it back to g-man
>There are times
when I would love to paint myself an ocean
sometimes a wild and stormy one
with dark clouds and huge waves
dangerous and exciting
and some days a rather calm one
with colorful fish
and dolphins that meet right next to me
laid-back and peaceful
And I would use different shades of blue
with some green in between – but not too much
Of course you can’t paint an ocean
only half-hearted
you have to focus
and see the big picture
but also every single detail – quite difficult
And whoever looks at it – yeah
can’t just be neutral – nonchalant
You will love it or hate it
You are ready to jump or run away
But yes – if I could paint – I would start today
