Gypsy Princess – Chris Nelson

Tameless night – black
Wild as the dark
Alive on Buckingham carpet
Alert beneath an ivory moon
Sensing, sad sensuous
The spirit of silent age
Timeless spectre
Soft floating as night clouds
Touching gifting the aura
The sight beyond sky limits
Shrouding sweet senses
The spirit of a sensual age.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

If you enjoyed this, thank you! To read more please visit chrisnelson61

 

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Guest Feature: Primordial — Rob Taylor

Our minds probe
Beyond nature’s fane
Cloistered in linear

Shadows amongst
Red pines or cryptically
Crafted into epeiric

Seas where wings
Dauntlessly skim atop
Cresting waves, but

Now the breadth of
Our vision is steadfastly
Fixed upon eleventh

Dimension clarity
That we might reconvene
Our primordial harmony

via Primordial — Rob Taylor

Roar of a Whisper ~ Brandewulf

rusted roses

Headlong through the morning mist
The masquerading shadows wait
To take, to turn, to twine and twist
Such simple sights that now conflate.

Conflict. Confound. Conjoin. Confuse
Until the salted garden blooms.
Rusted roses in rows of twos
Bedeck and bedazzle the jilted grooms.

In the solace and sanctity
Of tangos bruised and broken.
Caught within our vanity
And all the truths unspoken.

But what?
There’s more.
Headlong through revolving door.
Into the nevermore.

Ever more and never less
Searching for the golden fleece.
Each plodded step creates regress.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Release.

© Brandewulf 2018


You can read more of Brandewulf’s work at Brandewijn Words.

I Did Not Rise

One hundred years, and nothing learned.

chrisnelson61

I did not rise in splendor

From the dead-ditch waters

Which whirl-pooled around my ankles

The mud-diluted sea of red

Rust-rivers stagnating like life

In corners where distant words

Dissolved in faces stilled

Becalmed by fearful waiting where

Desperate actions leant death a

Gift of welcome clemency

And possessions rescued hung

Silent monuments to death and waste

A quietus from the words once cried

In fantasised glories never birthed

Merely swept away, erased

Until the hollows ceased to be

Lost deep beyond consciousness

Of greenery and soundless peace

As weeping rains form pools

Which cling to abhorrent memory.

 

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Guest Feature – Étoile ~ Rob Taylor

I dance solo, caught
In decoyed whispers of
Relativity hid within

My own sacred mystery,
A tender étoile gracelessly
Contrasted by repressed

Empathy, I seek solace
With connatural souls and
We will journey along

East flowing rivers until
We meet at the horizon of suns
Where our rhythm shall be

Of the ancient way when
Gratitude expressed our unity
And love held no hostages


You can read more of Rob’s work here.