Tag: the dreaming

  • 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

  • evermists

    Photo by Connor DeMott on Unsplash
    fingernail tracing moon shadows
    cast on your pale, white thigh
    wondering why we must ever
    only embrace this way in mists

  • Campfire Sessions — 13apr25

    Campfire
    Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash

    No campfires for me last night, I’d decided. Instead, I elected to wander away into the day that followed flame as I left the camp behind: Sun blazing on one side, Moon cool and pale on the other. Maple’s yellow leaves fell mystic around me, an autumn kind of sakura celebration lacking only the plum wine for the stream ran beside me, falling over stones and breaking white the reflection of the sky.

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  • for the best

    Photo by Ronin on Unsplash
    we ford streams under
    between rime and rust
    between night and dusk
    running red at golden fall
    drawing our arctic under
    crone days stained pale
    unbroken strides between
    ash, birch and thorn

    checking maps, we see we
    have lost the trail
    and that, my friends,
    might be for the best

  • bed of leaves

    Photo by Ronin on Unsplash
    fumble forgotten
    feet tangle to fall
    last lost dance in
    the thin betweens
    birch bark peeling
    pale fog of dream
    can you catch me
    as i am falling
    to lay me out on
    this bed of leaves?