The aloofness of the moon in the effervescent night
In between the clouds teasing the sight
As the lavish words of the owls permeates the air
Summoning the wolves to howl in despair
Unable to muffle the loquacious toads by the lake
While the fluid branches of the trees dance to the nocturnes of the wind
How they cradled the woods to sleep
Still there is a flurried silence
Inexplicable gloom
Emitted by the bright moon
Spreading like wild fire in the meadows
Creating eerie shadows through the glass windows
The lake glittered as if the stars have fallen in the waters
She dipped her nakedness in the aching cold
Emotionless
Her face illuminated by the reflection in the silver waters
She submerge her breath to fill her lungs
She never felt as light, numb and hollow
The moon signed as witness
To the blooming flowers that midnight
Ever hungry for the moonlight
Like her convulsing consciousness desperate for salvation
And to the corpse of the maiden afloat in the lake
The unapologetic moon stood to watch
The beautiful soul as it slowly swells
Along with melancholia
Writhing across the serene lake



-Melancholia, Margaret Austin Go

Surrealist Cut-up

    boatman       Purple haze
contemplative pouring
the sky as lone
              rides the horizon.
       islanding
into the lake,

Cubist

Arc to the horizon
apparition, brooding figure,
a form rides in twilight haze
junction of the worlds
into a slither of light.

Literal**

Purple haze islanding the sky
pouring into the lake,
as lone boatman
rides contemplative
into the horizon.

GREEN LEAVES: Inspirational poems
Healing Hugs by Piusha Singh

" Erased the salty tears of love, yesterday
Roosted in these healing hugs together
Severed the shackle of mortality of  life
Tethered in this cosmic union forever"
Written by Poetess Piusha Singh
___________
• Inspired by the above lines,
• Williamsji Maveli writes…
__________
Love creeps into minds when nature fulfills,
Blue Lake in silence never flow towards hills,
Awakes in thirst when pure sweet honey pours,
Passionate devotion extends its hand for hugs.
____________
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

A frigid night--
the frosty air.
I shiver in the wake..

My fragile, numb fingers
attempt to touch my face.

I'm frozen....

The crisp, biting wind
gusts violently toward me..

I exhale a visible breath
and trudge onward
over the frozen lake.

I swam in the same water
Somebody died in
I guess the same is true
for most water
(I think).
The water we drink
has been used
drip after slow drip
to drive Someone
to the brink of insanity.
no doubt.
At one point
your warm, smooth, bathwater
was choppy,
salty, grave
to more than one
unlucky
sailor, pirate or slave.
The water is the same
perhaps arranged a
different way..
Know it is the same
deep, ambient killer.
Still we swim,
and still we bathe.


This water felt, looked,
I swear I thought it was pure.
A humble lake
quietly licking the salty shores
not looking for a life to take.
We fished those waters
earlier that day
hobbling in our canoe
and barely hanging on
but smiling.
I imagine he was like that, too.
Drunk from beer and the thrill
of midnight swimming.
Nobody, not even he
saw what was coming
until the lights came on:
flickering and then
too constant
red and blue and
I can only hope
that bright, blinding white.
Drunken fools know not
what is at stake.
We were forced awake
by little sister
frantic but relieved
it was not us
at the bottom of the lake.

I carry my doubt, worry, fears out to your truck but leave them in the passengers seat.
For this moment, I am alive.
I gaze out towards the orange and brown trees, tinted with a red as deep as the love I feel for you. Walk towards the wind, my hair rustles with the leaves and you laugh as my cheeks turn pink from the cold. Sit out on a dock and overlookinh a lake straight from a painting, I am alive. I can see the green horizon and the reflections of branches in the water, over hills and under grass, if you look just a little farther, you'll find you and me, because we're so alone in this moment and I can finally breathe because I feel so free. I lean into the wind, fall back against the dock and sigh, a smile on my face, the lake looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue plane. I am alive. I am breathing, and for once I don't hate the fact that I am. This sno-berry tea carries the taste of longing that, if elsewhere, I can only get from your lips, and I love it. I am an addict itching for a fix of release from reality and instead of my normal methods, I found it in you.

Amongst the monardas
Horsetail, Susan's black eyes
You can almost feel it:
freedom, life.

It could just be the heat.

I never asked to be ugly
dunno why it made me so hard to like
My own peers
they killed me
while our adult supervision got high.
I had no friends when I went away
to the place mom told me
I had to go stay,
"It's a happy place," I remember she said,
"Called Camp Crystal Lake."
Sounded nice
enough at the time.
Crystal Lake. A family fave.
Nowadays, when you hear the name
You don't think of a sunshiney place
full of laughter and happy children
You think of misfortune
you think of my face
and if you think of visiting,
You better not stay
For more than a day,
Or the children will play
on your grave.
This is my home
and I'd rather be alone,
With the dead animals
and my mother's bones.