Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Nov 2019 Wendi Schneider
Umi
The nightsky is alike a mighty mansion of the stars which then
twinkle in elegance, beauty and transience until the dawn outshines them in a graceful manner.
As the night turns away from the sun and from her light, danger
in our imagination could await, from the corners of our very mind.
Yet the stars make up a soft blanket, a cover of the calmest of light,
which could bring peace to a soul which is performing a rampage.
All the constilations, all the names and forms which reveal themselves, are but a heavenly spectra for those who are nocturnal.
Or for those, whom have meet the cruel fate to be allergic to the natural, straight forward, warming and blissful sunlight.
There is no soul with no protector, in the nightsky such would be
a bright,piercing star, standing proud,manifest its location is over you
Holding many wonders, the beauty of the night comes with shooting stars, which at times shortly sweep over the heaven before fading.
Wishes are made upon, hope fills their hearts, for a better future
or a fulfilment of their desires, tangled up within the depth of mind.
Night becomes bright once the moon shines, in its fullest posture.
Becomes dark once the rainclouds drive near, calling in thunder.
But most importantly, it is a time of rest, from all this earth beholds


~ Umi
The winter solstice is the year withdrawing
From all the busy-ness of being-ness,
And life in all its transfigurations
Seems lost beyond this cold, mist-haunted world

Time almost stops. Low-orbiting, the sun
Drifts dimly, drably through Orion’s realm
Morning becomes deep dusk; there is no noon
Four candles are the guardians of failing light

Until that Night when they too disappear
Beneath a Star, before a greater Light



Lawrence Hall
Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go
Available from amazon.com on Kindle and as bits of dead trees
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.


Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
 Nov 2019 Wendi Schneider
Klara
With you, I felt
the moonrises on my skin,
the lingering of the stars
in between our bodies,
with you I felt the rivers
washing away all this blood,
I heard the trees
speaking softly,
I heard the tiptoe of your kisses,
you always knew where to plant them,
I heard the songs
hidden in silence, our deep breathing.
With you
nothing made sense.
With you
it all fit perfectly.
 Nov 2019 Wendi Schneider
Tanya

  
              rooting from nature’s beating heart
              through mud and soil it raises
              a tree, bathing in rain and sunshine,
              listening to thunderstorms at night
              ...
.
                have you ever noticed
                just how brave trees are ?
 Nov 2019 Wendi Schneider
faith
sounds are of the essence,
of life,
love,
and all of the above,
we laugh,
we cry,
we say goodbye,
we listen,
to words,
to the oceans roar,
to the crickets at night,
we listen,
to the breathing of an infant,
we listen,
to the wind in the trees,
we listen,
to the i do that changed you forever,
we listen,
to life.
 Nov 2019 Wendi Schneider
Pyrrha
He didn't know the love she had
Buried beneath her skin
Held behind the bars of her rib cage
Her heart was there, burning with desire
Beating within was the song of love sung by a lark

Alas, he couldn't hear it
From the surface he only saw an expressionless doll
He never listened to her when she tried to sing to him
That deafening sound that refused to please him

So instead of being left with a song
Destined to drive her to madness
She released the lark within

But that boy couldn't let her go
Tortured by the thoughts of her
Haunted by the memory of her
He defiled their trust

She could no longer stay silent as she planned
So she opened her mouth and told him
He was not a man
She hurt his pride and didn't mind

Her lark returned
But that pretty bird was consumed by rage
Her heart now burned with a different flame
Light crawls in through the curtains
Stains the floor in shades of yellow & white
Sets pools of obscurity bright
As the sun retires from our sight
Twilight cometh, like one's mind at night
Next page