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The body;IMG_8555


Illuminated with a promise of

Ripe fruit;

Ground for exploration,

And time.

Replaced by wonder;

A child’s playground.

Prisms dance

And warmth is sacred.

Memories of

Womb-rich wonder

Mingled with hot chocolate.

Sitting by the fire


After the frost

Is love.IMG_8555


Related imageIt was in the clouds of the sunrise

I heard his voice.

Full with the blush

Of a ripe peach;

The taste of exploration.


He called me;

As close as a lover’s whisper,

As clear as a command.

He told me his name

Nothing more.

Perhaps it was enough.


Name knowing,

Now we can find

Each other in the dark.



I slip into myself

An awkward child

All legs and arms.


Eyes furtive

A bull calf

Trying spindly legs

This world

So large.

The God calls

And I answer.

Images are atoms.

I love.

Open to all

Life will unfold

As it will;

And I grow.


She exhales

A few brief moments to hear her thoughts

The room surrounds her

The pen

A lover,

Soft and smooth

Gliding across the page .

Spell speaker,

Truth teller,

“I dream “

The lines dance,

Male seeking female;

Positive to negative

Open and ready.


Out the


And dream.


antique-blank-camera-269810The books are too many;

I falter under their weight.

Pleading expectation;

Firm covers crave bending.


A lingering glance.

I must abstain.

Pulled too far;

Duty’s call too loud.

What I dream;

Packed tightly

Into boxes;

Saved for later.

Until my unknown debt

Has been paid.


She sleeps;

A child

Waiting for


Listening to the silent drum.

Heart beats



And wait.



Image result for british galleon in harbourBlood, brine and flesh

I dream

In the belly of the



Ripe and fertile,

Full  of life.

She died in my arms.


The cicadas sin???????????????????????????????g

As the sun

Dips below the treeline.

Even the wolves wait;

Hungry anticipation.

We found a blanket

Hidden in a

Trunk in the attic.

Wine wrapped


Our offering.

In the clearing

We will

Toast the

Mystery of

The dying day.






Image result for cradle in attic

Sometimes the muse is blindfolded.


Gifts are given in a game of

Truth or dare.


Determined by the

Flip of a coin.

You stumble into



The day you were born,

Your new family took you home.

The request of your mother;

Afraid to keep you

Her past life calling.





Struggling between worlds

You try to

Dream in double-time.




God of paradox
You guard the door:
The entrance and the exit.
Witness to the past and present.
When war is declared
Your heart quickens;
Hungry for the fight.
Those same arms will offer
Solace for the peacemaker.
Patron both of the conqueror and
Tears can be shed in both anger and love.
You embody
Light and darkness

Youth and age
Love and hatred;
In one being.
The challenge of being human.

Little Fears

Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes

Elan Mudrow


Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

The Art of Blogging

For bloggers who aspire to inspire

New Beginnings

A safe haven where the mind is free.


Poetry, free verse, haiku, senryu, photography, books, art, philosophy , nature, literature.


Be careful, I might convince you.. You are art.✨

Poems for Warriors

"Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off." Prov. 23:18

Michael_Malachi - The 6’6/Giant

Something for Everyone...from Poems, to TV/Movie Reviews, DIY Furniture, Artwork, Memories, and More. Lets go on this Art Literary journey together! 🤞🏾🖤

Learning to write

Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV

Reverie in reverse

Phillip's latest reveries


New content every Sunday.

Anxiety The Bitch

We are present in the millions, yet we remain unheard

My Spirals

• Hugs and Infinities

Bright Moments Catcher

Bright Moments Catcher - by Alex Markovich. MarkovichUniverse AT

The life of a dreamer.

"She believed she could, so she did." 🌙

Bealtaine Cottage, Ireland

Colette O'Neill... Environmentalist, Author, Publisher, Photographer. Creator of Goddess Permaculture.


Looking Through the Cracks of Time


My Imagination is the DEVIL on my shoulder