Sunday Features – Winds of Emotional Imbalance – 20/03/2011

With a new season upon the horizon, the winds of promise usher in a dissonance of emotional imbalance. The atmosphere shifts while the earth quivers in anticipation of what’s been planted within her womb. Each fragmented seed a part of the whole to be reconciled with the beating of one united heart.

Now what if in her broken numbness and wounded state she’s simply not ready to emerge into this new season?

Solace by © Unbeknown

She knows one thing, though: the sweet scent of ancient days still lingers in the air.

Sacred Romance [Stay] by © Beautifuldreamer

Sweet Ancient of Days,
Come to me wearing any disguise:
thorny rose
soft-footed snow
mournful wind
or rain tippity-tapping my window pane.

Romance me, though all around me prove false
though mountains shake
and the hills be removed—-romance me then, or not at all.

I will learn to love the snow because of you
learn to pick out the disparate notes of your serenaded love in melancholy music,
in the fresh smell of cotton dresses steam ironed
in the remembrance of my father’s laughter ( though now its merry swirl is lost to me.)

Wear wood smoke as your cologne
and autumn’s vulgarity of colors as bold contrast to my drab little self.
Like a blind woman whose fingertips have grown accustomed to Braille,
to the unique texture of things, I will caress the barks of trees
the familiar landscape of knee scabs;

will tremble with desire
to be the warp and woof of your weaver’s loom,
my self woven (bones, hair and all) into a gorgeous tapestry,
another kind of tapestry than what I dreamed I could be.

Ancient of Days,

my dreams are too big for me;
my child’s hands fumble them clumsily
even as I blink back tears at my ineptness, my lack of grace.

I turn at the slightest rustling sound
my ears keen for your approach.
Oh! I love you so,
I betroth myself to you
to your light in my baby brother’s eyes,
and to the sound of your lullaby meant just for me
in the sighing of falling embers
and in sun drenched streets I dare not explore without you.

Sweet Ancient of Days:
tarry with me one more hour
linger near while mother frowns over the stove
and the step-dad smirks at my stupidity;
stay lest my soul wither away
and I lose myself for want of you.
Stay.

So she balances upon the threshold of the shadows of yesterday’s scars and the hope of what can be found
in the day’s new illumination. Can her feet take her where her heart must travel?

I by © rubyjo

Once spirit and soul realign, the displaced friends will embrace once again.

Witch Switch by © RC deWinter

And when I finally knew that
I would never have another lover
I looked inside and embraced my shadow,
holding it, cherishing the power hidden in
its murky depths.

And when I finally knew that
I could change the landscape of my life
I stood, with steady feet on that stone sill
and looked with witch’s eyes across the plain
and, grasping broom, flew.

She cleaves to life and death as if they are one. Does she know something no one else knows?

Life and Death Entwined by © Alenka Co

Will she emerge from a season’s slumber only to fashion herself into a multi-dimensional mask of hiding?

The Mask by © SimplyRed

she wears a mask
layer upon layer
of porcelain veneer
a crumbling fragility
with magnolia coloured
tear drops….

spread thinly with smiles
for they expect it…
dull flickering flame
flambouyant red hues
blinded but sees…
a half grin
expected…always

she wears a mask
of fool them all
only flesh of heart
remains true to self
painted on smile
of ruby red

quietly weeping
scented jasmine tears
creeping softly into dawn
blown away on a breeze
not visible at daybreak

she wears it well
a perfect fit
of velvet glove
each digit enveloped
a perfect print is she
transparent to none

falling on ears of fragility
listening ,
dancing a merry tune
as birds chirp freely
on branches of freedom
she wishes for wings
elusive….

putty hands
soft and supple
form no solace
grasping eternally
for life’s love

Or out of the miry clay will the shards of last season’s fragments begin to reform her in all of her splendour, and pepper the earth with the flavour of new birth?

Elementar Particles by © Marlies Odehnal

Now upon the canvas of this new season, what treasures can be found hidden within the spaces in between?

The spaces in between by © wildwomenlove

As charcoal dust
gets up my nose
I sneeze

I’m looking out
upon the montage
dressed before me

My left hand jitters
in it’s new role
as capturing scribe

It’s not the objects
that you see
it’s the spaces in between…

Light and shadow
SHAPES and juxtapositions
line and form

Life’s like that isn’t it?
What we are truly looking for
are the spaces in between

Those diamond moments
connecting us with the ^who
of what we are and what we do

Making meaning
of the little things
in our everyday existence

So I draw with gusto
without a care in the world
and it’s difficult to recognize what it is

It’s not the destination
that counts
but the journey

as I courageously attempt
to scale the mountain of inanimate objects
pyramided within my view

I look to find life in those spaces
the diamonds of moments
of life and living

that morph in
and out
of my sensual frame

When I shut my eyes
I draw from my heart, which beats
in the spaces in between

The charcoal dust
gets up my nose
and I see…

And when the laurels bud, Daphne’s prayers can bloom, whose sweet nectar will float into the heavens.

Daphne by © Janelle McKain

Perhaps it was all just a manifestation of those vanilla scented dreams that illuminated the way to the waters of absolution.

in dreams by © autumnwind

reflections of deep greens and blues
danced like Northern Lights
floating suspended in the air
in ritualistic manifestation
…I dreamt about tealights last night

I tasted the scent of vanilla
and thought of white spirit roses
as I undressed and tested the waters
of absolution

immersed in baptismal velvet
my breath held as I saw your face
you radiated new life through me
in billowing raptures

your soul went through me

eons slipped by as stories were told
red moons and black suns
flickered before my eyes

millions of years went by as time ceased to exist

fading slowly, falling gently
through swirling layers of vortex
I awoke

…finding my breath
trying to hold on to enlightenment
I retain very little
but enough to know
…I dreamt about tealights last night

…and you…

Regardless, in technicolor full bloom, she’s freed from yesterday’s captivity.

Set Me Free by © salena

And now that she has been set free, what rhythm will infuse her passions to flow as freely?

thread by © Cynthia Lund Torroll

Like a drum beat
it begins –
a slow
and steady drilling.

One sentence
pulled from thousands
starts
to pound away…

You left without saying goodbye.
You left without saying goodbye.

Some would say
it’s just bad manners.
I might scold,
I hurt myself,

I don’t know,
but I don’t like it,
it’s hard enough
to Be Here Now.

But there is
always
another story
that soon will surface
if I’m still

While what is seen
as impoliteness
might simply be
an empty well.

Midweek Features – End of Year – 29/12/2010

To celebrate the ‘almost’ end of this very successful year which saw Pink Panther go through changes and return like a phoenix here are the last set of features for the year.

Anna and I chose them together, so it’s her fault for choosing another one of mine. LOL I chose all the great writing features. There will be a writing challenge in the new year, so keep your writing hats on!

In the middle of Winter what can you do but long for Spring…? I always do. LOL

Thinking Of Spring by © Art Of Ella Brown

Thinking of Spring,
Melting snow,
dream drops patter down from the icicle swords
winter and its fairytale magic.

Under sleeping flowers bent over sadly sleeps,
little hay covered fairies slumbering deep down in the leafy nest.

Crocus sparks under dark soil and begins to spiral out,
colours of a new spring unseen now but there and about.

[…] Read the rest of the poem by clicking on the title of the poem.

And here’s the perfect image to go with it:

Sleeping Beauty Awakes by © VenusOak

How often have you sat like that and thought these very thoughts?

Culture Shock by © lovelyrita

I will never be like you
With your beer bottle in hand
Your hair a parachute, land
on the floor, big feet small shoes.

You wave your Budweiser high
in the air where all can see.
You’re buzzed and you’re a beauty
still – your hands reach for the sky

And I watch you raise the roof
From my lonely letter seat
Wearing shoes to match my feet
I’ll look for lingering proof

[…] Read the rest of the poem by clicking on the title of the poem.

… and another perfect match:

Languishing in the House of Desire II by © restlessd

Break Open. by © bjeliMis

I am just a stumbling dandelion gone to seed
The wind blowing me away little by little
And all my wishes sealed in my downy seeds
There’s a lot to believe in nowadays
And I don’t know what’s right exactly

[…] Read the rest of the poem by clicking on the title of the poem.

…and yet another image to perfectly work with the poetry… there’s is definitely some sort of synchronicity going on between all of us. 🙂

Woven… by © Susan Ringler

Definition of thyself!

by lisameryl

I’m a fragrance
buried in bloom
longing for release

My soul is wailing
unclothed before thee
yearning for cleanse

I’m an onion
to be peeled
layer by layer

My fruits are ripe
taste thyself

beckoning its thirst

[…] Read the rest of the poem by clicking on the title of the poem.

These words felt so familiar that the next image just had to follow. Under the skin we’re all just sisters.

Sisters at heart by © salena

but sometimes things go wrong…

Rape

by ShadowDancer

A smile appears on your face
as you pillage her body and
discard her soul;
as if you told a timid joke
that she could hear
but not understand.

Pain gushes inside of her,
rushing forth like blood
from a morbid wound;
it’s a knife that twists her heart
into a tangled pile of hate.

She is now
but a small scar on the world.
She would rather enter the throne of Hades
than relive that fate-less moment,
for it has reduced her to a painful fear
that she is unable to ignore;
a fear that causes
her to live in a frozen world,
one where she watches
others moving forward
yet she herself no longer knows
how to move on.

[…] Read the rest of the poem by clicking on the title of the poem.

Such a powerful poem and part of what this group is all about. Here’s a powerful image to go with it.

Torn by © VenusOak

And finally a story which hopefully makes you smile,too, and a tongue-in-cheek image to let go of the old year with a grin…

this is why we’ll never be grown-ups by © Selkie

This weekend, i had the Crimson Wave.
I think i’ve explained before what this means.
One of the things it means is that i writhe around in agony, darting up in bed gasping and clutching my stomach & scaring the living Hell out of Inuk.
I will digress here a moment (and if that bothers you, then you are reading the wrong blog); one way to judge a member of the Male Tribe is how he deals with the Crimson Wave. If he freaks out at the sight of your menstrual blood and gets mad at you for bleeding on his sheets (accidentally – i’m not a total animal), or can’t handle going with you to the store to get tampons, then he’s probably a Dick and not worth your time.

Grown-ups can deal with such natural occurrences as a woman’s period.

But what if you are Inuk and me?
Here is an example of a typical day when i am riding the Crimson Wave;
Most of the weekend, as is my habit, i just lolled around like a cheap tart in his bed, reading a Madison Smart Bell book, high off my ass on muscle-relaxers. But there were some highlights.

[…] Read the rest by clicking on the title – it’s well worth it!

Have a brilliant New Year – may it be successful and happy and all you hope for. Thank you for all your support and for making this group as varied and interesting a place it is.

Anna and Sybille xoxo