No time to dwell
(on what's been undone)
or that
which has become undone

We'll hold onto
each of our moments
when love's song was sung

(When) we stepped on time's ladder
climbed each rung
Each one told a story
of births and deaths
failures and success

The higher we ascended
The shakier the ladder
Encouraging each other
when our legs start to tremble,
when our balance is threatened,
My hand in yours
then
your hand in mine
Should you fall behind
I wait for you
When I falter
You wait for me

When we stumble
We hold on to each other
With a word
A look
A warm embrace

Time's ladder
over time
deteriorates
with aging and pain

I know we'll hold on to the end
though no promises can be made
I'm not perfect
Neither are you

But

I know I won't be climbing to these heights again
or stepping up on to
another time's ladder.

There, pinch-perfect--
shadow-wrested beak
of fingertips, secure a soured
grape, first of a series.
Thrown in a perfect arch...
purple with majesty, slower
than motion, upon that coven's
cut, colored: Bubonic Brown,
Liche Purple, Catachan Green,
Scab Red, Red Gore, Blood Red--
in fine rot...heart.
Stiller than life upon shellaced wood
floor, begging the perspective
press of grapes underfoot.
Let blood drink.

Collect my broken pieces
off the floor,

Gather my tired soul -  
unlock my heavy heart's door.

Hold me tight
and never let me go,

Lift me high
whenever I feel low.

Protect me from the sources
of my anxiety,

Let me dwell within your heart -
my soul's only safe and secure society.

Fold me
into your warm embrace,

Cocoon me--keep me forever safe.

By Lady R.F ©2017

palette
russet, olive hues
yellow ochre
bird's egg blue
vastness held
within a bowl
turned over earth
to heal and hold
moisture from
the morning rain
thus the painter's
eye is trained

cadmium white
a fan-like brush
sketch mare's-tail clouds
an artist's touch
far horizon
grayish blue
a woman reclines
in the ****
her form reveals
the breasting hills
her hips the mountains
hushed and still
mid-ground
blurs of olive cacti
the saguaro
rise like hackles
Palo Verde lie in lumps
yellow flowers
bloom in clumps
point of brush
tweaks out the trees
turn of branches
stippled leaves
small are they
to catch the light
but the moisture
loss is slight
ochre foreground
brownish stones
blue-gray shadows
light source shown
grayish purple
prickly pears
ocotillo
here and there
spindly with splash of red
barrel cacti nod their heads
buff highlights
bring out the sand
thus paint creates

this desert land


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/13/2017

(Edited...reposted)


Time and past circumstances keep us in fetters
Long ago, I sketched this place on paper...
.............a beautiful oasis......
Where trees with long swaying branches surround
Along a placid stream, where crystal waters abound.

This is where i go
When feeling sad, or aglow,
I simply close my eyes
And easily....I am in an isle...

A place created by me
Not just you or I exist, but WE,
It could only be shared WITH THEE...
This, I have aply named, THE ISLE OF WE...

While working on this magical space
My brush strokes just fell into place
Not one, not two ever strayed,
With hues of aqua-blue, foam green...never blae.

I'm between a dream and reality
It is where you are, it is where I want to be
When I keep to myself, when I close my eyes
I am instantly here, in this isle
Perfectly...beside you,
Holding hands, we take in the view

Paradise is here,
In this unknown sphere,
From this isle, I would never flee
Where only I, exist.....WITH THEE.

    


Sally

Copyright February 9, 2017 (edited)
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan