Painter’s Muse

You stood stock still in the golden hour

Your brush dangled from your hand as you scrutinised the scene

It was the first time I’d watched you work

And the joy and the freedom were almost more than I could handle.

If I moved – to speak or to scratch,

You would gesture impatiently for me to resume my stance,

The crickets clicked their deafening wings

While the lowering sun engulfed us both in its splendour.

The heat of the day would not subside, but would linger

Long into the hot summer night, the mosquitoes usurping the crickets

Your sensual, gentle strokes continuing,

As your final touches transformed the wasteland around us into paradise

The end of Spring

With swirling, falling

Purple petticoats 

The city trees signal

The end of their season.

The playful petals

Of springtime blooming

Have fallen prey 

to Father Time, 

That old greyhair,

And his consort Mother Nature,

Together conspire

To turn the springtime maidens

Into summer mothers,

Providing shade 

for younger lovers

Spreading their leaves while

Remembering the day

Their sticky fallen blossoms 

Took their innocence away

A Tree Speaks

Our mountain home is a good placeWe are green of leaf and, fair of face

The raven’s wing covers our scars

And we trail our branches beneath the stars

Dance by the light of the cherry moon

Fearing the furious heat of June

When Our brothers fell in their habitat

Mown down by fiery flames so that

Some concrete blocks could take their home

And concrete people with hearts of foam

Will park their Eco-friendly vans

In villas carved from forestland

We trees our home ground cannot choose

In a war with man, we always lose.

Thunderbirth (poetry prompt #1)

Ominous, malevolent

 pregnant-bellied

Cloud entwined within 

Herself and without – that

Soot-colored Sky

The turbulent and wild Sky

The air waves are fiZzling 

The cracking static hymns

Praising the parson at this demented wedding.

The wedding band strikes UP

A guitar twang and crash of drums

The flow of favorites come thick and fast

And the bride and groom twirl around 

Each other and faster

And faster

And faster they move,

Pulling their guests in their wake

and that dark pregnant belly breaks 

its water,

And we all attend the labour

The child, a girl

A daughter

April the first

The afterbirth 

Spring.

No tocar

You cannot hear the silence

The music is lost under those vast skies

The cold hard light of a high desert  dawn

Throws deep shadows into my eyes
‘No tocar’ – do not touch, do not play

‘No tocar’ – do not touch me today

‘No tocar’ – This despair too shall pass

‘No tocar’ – I am fragile as glass
You cannot taste the limits

Your flavours are spread on a desert of sand

The longing to belong and escape this dream

Will end when you take my hand.
‘No tocar’ – do not touch, do not play

‘No tocar’ – do not touch me today

‘No tocar’ – this is bad for your health

‘No tocar’ – I am lost in myself

You cannot smell the perfumes

The desert air carries nothing but dust

Where the cactus grow and the desert is green

You do what you can, not what you must
‘No tocar’ – do not touch the display

‘No tocar’ – do not touch me today

‘No tocar’ – this is bad for your health

‘No tocar’ – I am lost in myself

‘No tocar’ – do not touch, do not play

‘No tocar’ – do not touch me today

‘No tocar’ – This despair too shall pass

‘No tocar’ – I am fragile as glass