Tag: the dreaming

  • passage

    conceptual portrait of hands with red thread
    Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht on Pexels.com
    to rest my cheek against thigh
    fingers hair entwined
    waiting for the glow of stars
    to shine and fill me of you

  • in that slipshadow

    Photo by Stephane Gagnon on Unsplash
    in that slipshadow
    your hand on my hip is
    my hand on your hip
    cutting the twilight
    of midnight under
    a lazy summer moon
    hanging low enough
    to grasp if but
    for only slender hours
    before is slips behind
    an ashen veil of dream

  • still do not

    Photo by Connor DeMott on Unsplash
    long that road & more
    i still do not know
    where it will lead
    i have my doubts that
    the path heads north
    i still do not know

    our hands become expressions
    reflections of our thoughts
    feathering fans before eyes
    fingers return to masks

    long that road & more
    i still do not know
    what we will find in end
    i still do not know

  • dreaming house

    Photo by Massimiliano Sarno on Unsplash
    what ghosts this dreaming house
    sleepwalking our sleep?
    trysting our sweat-damp sheets?
    giving hallow our hearth in creep?

    pale her flesh, her hair raven flow
    barefoot slipping through
    eyes open to ever unawake
    passing of room to room

    gazing out to lune and hedge
    through windows stained of dust
    would we to kiss her lips
    in that dreaming house of rust

  • tryst

    Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash
    barefoot of skin
    etched spidered line thin
    phantasm and trysting
    she slips through at
    the old wytchingtree
    waiting on the moon

  • mine november

    conceptual portrait of hands with red thread
    Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht on Pexels.com
    her embrace mine november
    the only real remain
    slender pale her fingers,
    hair her ebon black
    her crimson at my throat
    here, only sleepwalking
    dawns the midnight sun
    only slowtalking brings light
    whispers,
    you cannot begin to know

  • wordless

    sunlight shining through old growth woods
    Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash
    those days where words
    lose all meaning in
    a dizzy haze of dreaming
    and fingers trace lines
    of morning dew across
    your pale skin under
    the rise of the sun

  • homage

    Photo by pedram ahmadi on Unsplash
    badh touched my shoulder
    as i held the remains of
    old friends in a wooden box

    i turned to the battle crow
    as she leaned forward
    laying her night beak
    on my pale lips in kiss
    numbing my flesh to tingle
    well after i woke under
    the reapers moon

  • in waiting

    a path in the middle of a dark forest
    Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash
    silence of a forest in waiting
    steel skies scarred spark & flint
    here she comes raining & how
    we celebrate her summer rains
    drinking her in as she pours

  • above tomorrow

    sunlight shining through old growth woods
    Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash
    a hilltop kiss
    above old creek wending,
    tangled of vale

    all grains gone gold
    in autumn hours with
    a sun hung low

    burning within, without
    you whisper a secret
    for me to keep

    my head on your breasts,
    slumber come tomorrow