in life’s luscious garden let it rain like mad,frantic water,urger of dreams. drunk moon womanwatching you throughstorm’s mist in sleep. yet when diamondshadows stop, I seegorgeous beauty in life’s luscious garden It’s going to start raining at any moment. When I saw rain the words, it was the seed for the oracle to germinate. magnet…
Author: Lisa or Li
mother, grandmother, gardener, observer of nature, reader, writer, learner, bicyclist, woman who runs with the wolves, lover of music, philosophical daoist. Welcome.
24 SSPC 37 (1st week) The Time of Planting Grains (June 6 – 19) Boshu — shadorma series
coreopsis portal sloping down to frog-turtle pond bright yellow carpet sprawls bordering portal between inside and outside brunnera love my heart rests in a peaceful place well-nourished in its mud veins tenuous but certain we’ll be, forever talking stones between worlds in deep reflection frog listens to stories whispered from stones, who gather them and…
Friday Favorite Feature 37 — blossoms here and there
I already spend too much money on plants, but I couldn’t resist this shade-loving pot of annuals for the front of the house. Sorry for late posting but damn this week kicked my butt every which-way. Slept until noon, which is unexcusable, but it is what it is. These are pics from fmg on Tuesday…
dVerse — OLN 363 — “I see dead people.”
I see dead people. on the screenthen in my dreamsbabies sprawled,unable to crawlbeyond nursingparents cursingchildren’s infanticideendpoint stratifiedsoon en-gravedprayers unsaved there can be no victory in thisspite; parents’ grieving last kissesvengeful extinguishing innocentstoo many eyes crying in heaventoo many hollow sockets put to rest “I see dead people.” — from The Sixth Sense (1999) top image…
#FF — Servant
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot Servant I was once grains of silica blanketing shores and lakebeds, a servant to feet, fins, and flora. You capture me unaware. Screened under your watchful eyes, I finally meet your demanding requirements. Crucibled with soda and lime, you stoke my passion with seventeen-hundred-degree Celcius flames until I’m an amorphous…
dVerse Poetics — ekphrastic to art of Catrin Welz-Stein — blind
blind blind to herself delectable vision to others eyes sting her flesh her tender skin blotched with their leers she yearns to vanish her graceful demure discounted by the lechers discarded to strip toss her like dice in dirty games, to gamble her despised treasure away she stumbles drawn by call of falling water where…
dVerse — Prosery — Answered Prayers
I pray to God that she may lieForever with unopened eye— from Edgar Allan Poe’s, “The Sleeper” Millicent and I are born eighteen months apart; she in the heat of August, and I in the chill of January. Our temperaments follow our seasons. She, vivacious, fire in her blood; and I, pale, introverted, with a…
Tao-Talk 