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she's the alter ego
the Spanish Maria
to my demure smiles
the trembling lips
West Side Story hips
playing opposite
my downplayed reflection
fingers reaching
beseeching the recesses
of who I am
passionate Latina
to my pale skin
the antipode within
my sensual dance
siesta dama,
midnight enchantress,
soft suede Madonna
black magic seductress
whispering ****** intentions
within innocent guile
Another night spent dancing in the kitchen when all the word has gone to sleep ūüĆô
6d · 63
I blush even now,
our earliest memory, a sleek song slipped
about my mind as we drove along
the Emerald coastline staring through
sunset's liquid blaze,
our strange magic stirring embers
I thought were distant, faded
from my heart, warm pigments
suspended in ultramarine air-
how you painted my eyes
in burnt umber, my lips
with cadmium red
as I awakened
from the sea's silk
your earth and fire
7d · 107
lucid dreaming
I feel your composition
rippling beneath my brush
the complexity of your mind
hands softening
around my shadow

how your voice    lingers
on my page captivating
each breath . . .  you flicker
in gaslight as I beckon
you closer - come, I want
to discover you beyond
the palette of words
constructed in my dreams
touch the highlights
of fantasy as you trace
every thought of me

stay, beneath night's cover
promise not to dissolve
in whispering mists of dawn,
my muse, envelop me
in your love's unreality
Jan 8 · 35
storming the Capitol
my thoughts
   are    h e m o r r h a g i n g
so much         slippery

               betrays my silence- steeped in murky isolation,

                                   I cannot . . .
    strips of paper
                 with syllables
            to quell this wailing wall erected around my heart  
            I kneel

      an altar              

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†­¬≠¬†¬† reconciling
        that might coagulate
         so preserve [stained faith]

I whisper  a solitary

    feeling its enchanted ripples

sifting between stiffened fingers

      holy water to disillusioned lips

speak for me
        these splintered lines
again to         lyrically arrange

              my dissonant song
I sat after class in tears watching a terrorism unlike 9/11 and far more fearsome, the terror within stripping the sacred fabric of America.  And I thought, we will rise again, bruised and greatly humbled, to build the rubble of our faith. Again
Jan 4 · 151
return to class
a new semester
filled with uncertainty
for teachers . . .
more anticipation of the unknown
fear for our colleagues,
our students-
and yet,
I can't imagine a career
I'd rather risk my life for
than for the smiles of students
our crazy, harmonious connections  
I can't fathom being
any other than what I am
one who loves and supports
our future
when I rest my mind on this affection,
all the rest dies away
for all at once
I smile, again, meeting
a new family, collaboration
filled with possibility
together, we are reborn
and fear falls away
we are students and teacher
engaged in the beauty
of a journey
an exchange, even CoVid
can't deny
I am anxious to return to class tomorrow, but am grateful for the opportunity to do what I  truly love.
Jan 3 · 153
frost bitten, burdened
with a rucksack of sorrows,
we unravel doubts casting them
far below . . .
the darkened riverbed  
channeling heartbreak
through an embouchure
of song, harmonic breath
of winter's solstice, lilting promise
tilted toward warmer seasons
hope's amulet inscribed
with goldenrod
and swallow's melody
May the days of winter's darkened footsteps lead us toward a new year where sunlight beckons in unfiltered joy.
Dec 2020 · 50
South City Lady Dec 2020
older beginnings,
newer endings
our former selves
reconfigured shadows
painted in our likeness,
perverse substitutes
for who we once were

with each subtle layering,
we forge expectations
of unreality
patterning behavior
to society's desires,
but what of the integrity
that underlies
the gross insincerity

do we fabricate
perpetual lies
to belie ourselves
and so assume  
the carnivalesque expression,
the idealized deception
of what we classify
as real
or do we rupture
the glass mosaic
recapture the marred
face beneath, the beauty
our beast
A pentimento, in painting, is "the presence or emergence of earlier images, forms, or strokes that have been changed and painted over".
Dec 2020 · 99
recovery & restoration
South City Lady Dec 2020
I first sought the companionship of words
to dream love into shapes I could touch.
The world had become distorted and distant; writing resurrected a need to feel, to chip away at callouses, embrace my soft again. Poetry felt forbidden, decadent, enticing- a trove of pleasurable pain.  Words wrapped around rhythmic  lines framing stories where my wanderlust could journey: beyond the broken fence of normalcy, past the lamppost, to utter obscurity.  

Now, I sleep beneath the exposure of stars, writing the dark, unsettled histories within, territories where only my fingers can navigate their distance. Out in this unknown, I forget my name. I am the faceless gravedigger of my soul, scavenger of lost relics, beachcomber in love with the sea's unbridled fury.
Writing ourselves whole is as a courageous act of discover.y. BLT's writing about his mother inspired this piece's theme, the power of writing to excavate feelings and heal ourselves.
Dec 2020 · 65
South City Lady Dec 2020
you tell me I'm beautiful
I reach for doubt
but then your hands
caress gaps where
wounds have collected
kissing each so tenderly
quietly, as though you sense
their sting, yet possess
the salve to help them heal
stay - I promise to believe
in miracles, to hold you beyond
the horizon of tomorrow
only for nights to come
whisper such kindness
that faith uncurls beneath
my heart, gentle seedlings
for a new, delicious spring
Reiki- one who heals by transferring positive energy through their hands, the beauty and power of touch.
Dec 2020 · 285
South City Lady Dec 2020
lift the residue of darkness
numbing beauty into drab sorrow
melt this frost, clinging doubts
that leave my eyelids drained
tomorrow comes -
warm lover
tender morning glow
feeding upon raw skin
radiant light dabbing color
to soothe a chaffed world
swirling pigment, tingling umber
brushstrokes that nourish hope
glazed in powdery confection
sweet luxury upon my breath
Dec 2020 · 37
South City Lady Dec 2020
your touch carries
a frequency
i crave intensely
internal reservoir
my parched heart consumes
press your hands into mine
understandings painted inside
every breath, encryptions
your fingers convey
feverish dance
moonlit silhouettes
aching dimensions
my chest holds
upon waking
our conversations
without rest
Dec 2020 · 91
poets' tribute
South City Lady Dec 2020
these thoughts are to you
for your soul's absorption
not mass consumed
read, discarded, reproduced
for when we share,
the nexus of eyes and thoughts
carry a spiritual dialogue
you wander the footprints
where my words have tread
feel their snow laden leaves
stare into the sky's heaviness
vortex of unexpressed ideas
we've yet to translate
hold my winter to your breast
until these words warm
kindling for midnight fires
where sparks dance
in lyrical heresy forming
memory for our minds
May our words remain true to feelings,
to the expression of authentic ideas
for  a receptive audience resulting in a
highly intimate exchange of hearts.
Dec 2020 · 48
flow state
South City Lady Dec 2020
suspended notes drift
through space
spectacular orbs of honeyed
sunlight burning though
loneliness, isolation
a haloed warmth
echoes through
my body
splashing energy
awakening stilled corners

with eyes closed, I absorb
a riverbed of colors
gravitating oracles
motions of tender memory
tinted jade
& streaked magenta
how they stain
my feelings' tongue
infusing hopeful breaths
with generosity,
infinite love

oh, that I might linger here
held between these columns
elevating rhythms
captivated beneath a forest
of stars so vast my mind
cannot conceive their origins
nor their destinations
I am no longer standing
in the present, but timeless
a particle enveloped
in each pulsating droplet
transformed into snowflakes
soaking your face

         can you feel my love?
Prompt:  channeling creativity and love that words can commit hearts to feelings of gratitude and hope for the coming year
Dec 2020 · 144
soul's quest
South City Lady Dec 2020
Standing on the other side panting, swearing, staring at the chasm you've spent years overcoming can be exhilarating.  Whether the obstacle is mental or physical, take a moment to marvel at the  full length of your journey.  Be grateful for the gnashing of teeth, the fears of failure, the constant anxieties and abuses of how "you're just not enough," the impossible goals, the midnight sweats, the gaining of weight, of losing your grip on reality.  When you finally succeed at the task that seemed impossible or insurmountable, allow yourself to exhale fully, close your eyes, permit yourself this moment to heal.  But, never forget the aches and cruel tempests that blew through your timid soul night after night. Never forget the motivating speeches you whispered to smear over the pain and strangle its fitful breath. Remember you are the entire experience-- the daily rituals that sustained you, the summation of all your tears.  You are the lesson learned, the unsinkable heart, the unwavering believer, a humble warrior standing solitary within the ring of Fire.
I wrote this the day I graduated with my doctorate two years ago today. Thought I would die.  In retrospect, this year (2020) has been far more difficult and eye opening.
Dec 2020 · 533
South City Lady Dec 2020
I awakened to your energy
an explosion, a profusion
rapturous light splicing air,
raining as fingertips
igniting my core with possibility
all desires alight in solitary flame
burn through self-doubt
incinerate negativity
until golden embers, I become
floating upon your dreams
harvesting thoughts
currents that harmonize
a fallen past with this eternity
feel my breath upon your lashes
change this perception of living
entangle belief, liberate desires
you, we, are whatever
our minds prophecy -
imagine what you adore
cultivate its garden
within your soul
Dec 2020 · 96
to the evening
South City Lady Dec 2020
while the world sleeps
I write my heart in candlelight
scrolled with stars and indigo
swirled in lamplights
silhouettes of shadows
melted wax
dripping confessions
each fingered note
splayed across piano keys
aching with feeling
this black velvet shroud
draped in beauty upon
my scented thoughts

with an inebriated sense
these words delve deeper
scribing the page with softness
untampered, pure
like fresh, untrodden snow
iridescent beneath the moon
pale, luminous
a curved shape held
upon your waking
Dec 2020 · 134
South City Lady Dec 2020
lying in bed, I watch
as the sun's fickle light
bleeds translucent gold
between branches, recalling
    your soft warnings  
not to stare      longingly
at sunsets, but,
I've spent a lifetime
being reckless,
falling in love with gilded
rays I could not keep,
going blind from wanting
affection's abundant
return; it seems
  there's no tame remedy
for loving
           with a poet's heart.
Dec 2020 · 61
morning's confessional
South City Lady Dec 2020
Lying in darkness
to silence disruptions,
the chastising voice
of wrinkled missteps;
    in this muted hour
I am no longer parent
to anyone,
      especially myself

I feel each word's
tufted hesitation
(ears pinned behind pages)
as silver slanted angels
flit about, lifting
my heart's metallic lid
      - oh, dance for me!

whisper intimacies,
sachets scented
with confessions,
tucked behind these
insular eyes, between
warm *******
breach the distance
that grows vast within
suppression's art

help me write myself free
         again -
delve into life's energetic
while tinted dawn stains
morning's curtain

how will others recollect
these petal-shaped tears
shed before my time's
extinguished breath

     but for today's
unfiltered fingers
each line, sustained
feelings laid bare
as newborn skin
beneath winter's sky
Dec 2020 · 73
life's footpath
South City Lady Dec 2020
‚ÄúWe think, sometimes, there's not a dragon left. Not one brave knight, not a single princess gliding through secret forests, enchanting deer and butterflies with her smile. So crafty have appearances become that princesses and knights can be hidden from each other, can be hidden from themselves.‚Ä̬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†
¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†­¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†-Rich­ard Bach (A Bridge Across Forever)

We all have the capacity to become a king or queen if we first recognize our own worth.  Seeing and believing ourselves as valuable is the first step; then, we work to refine those skills and beliefs that make us powerful healers or lovers or teachers for others coming along on their great paths toward self-actualization. What if that is life's great purpose?  

-South City Lady
A friend recommended this quote. I am grateful for the friend and the wisdom imparted through our conversations.
Dec 2020 · 67
never ending story
South City Lady Dec 2020
bless the script with your spirit
testament to immortal feeling
words curved into sails
transporting minds beyond
the silhouette of time
towards horizons unborn
where unknown fingers
take up residence in your verse
reawakened, inspired
by your heart's Druid temple
a spiritual Stonehenge
of poetic refuge
stretching its spires beyond
life's finite stare toward
eternal dialogue,
luminous thoughts
endless awakenings
Dec 2020 · 57
midnight silence
South City Lady Dec 2020
I cherish our
midnight silences
when your eyes
scribe verses
upon my heart;
each memory
settles softly
within daydreams,
each one emits
your irresistible scent,
driving my mind
to sumptuous madness.
Dec 2020 · 65
a bashful muse
South City Lady Dec 2020
I leave the door open, awaiting you
as I've done many times before.
Channeling your energy, softening my eyes, releasing all control, easing the curtains back,
banishing time for later.

Come to me, slowly, like a lover; nestle in,    
beneath these silences kept taut, hold my hand
to your lips- translate these muted sentiments.

Give this heart, breath.  Burn away uncertainties, bury my mind in beginnings, transported before     this hoary frost that does not feel.  

I want to speak. Tear away self restraint;
let words shiver in pinks and periwinkle dawn.  
       I am, you are.                                                           Entangle in each inhalation, every airy note resounding as a choir, resoundingly full, sainted.  Words captivated in translucent harmony.      

You return, tickling my tongue
in flecks of first snow;  oh, to taste the poetry,
its lush textures - hypnotic and full, swelling, germinating beneath these stilled hands;

I begin to write,
to shave lines from blank pages,
my blade gliding upon ice
while words escalate,
the velocity propelling
each thought, levitating over fields,
liberated from earth, until I feel
transcendent.  Staring into
the sunlight's promise, my heart      
grows green, again.
How poetry comes some mornings, slowly, painfully at first, then, all is bliss.
Dec 2020 · 71
Love Letter to Your Heart
South City Lady Dec 2020
You, yes, you are beautiful
God's creation, a work of art
look at your hands,
feel the radiant energy
expressed through them,
lightly caress your face,
allow sensations to return
let light pour through you again
receive, open the pathways
for you are entirely worthy
of incredible love because
you exist and are part
of this universe.  

Breathe in positive vibrations,
absorb all the roseate sunlight,
let its warmth filter through your skin,
feel each strand of hair soaking in love,
bathe your eyes in winter's
pearlescent moon-
you are reborn at dawn.

Wrap your spirit
in the understanding
that you are valuable,
and you possess such gifts
that will support and strengthen
others in their quests.

You, yes, you
have immense power,
cherish and harness its beauty
for greatness, take time to care
for yourself -especially right now-
the world needs spirits such as yours -
spread your warm heart
as a light house upon dark and troubled seas--
call restless souls to your harbors,
relish in the world's goodness,
enchant your life by giving others
peaceful energy and acceptance
for positivity will decimate pain,
fear, and insecurity -
and you are formed of
L O V E.
*May this love letter find its way to your heart. ‚ô•ÔłŹ
Dec 2020 · 120
Winter's Symphony
South City Lady Dec 2020
each note unrehearsed,
unrecorded, a chance
to breathe the interplay
of music in exchange
for words, violin strings
delicately rearrange
my heart's melody,
such irresistible beauty
to be held in love's downy
blessings abundantly fall
softly, majestically
as midnight snow
feeling every flake
coating these thoughts,
breaking open, alighting,
silver angel frost upon
the undressed earth
A cold night bleeds the heart into the surrender of a new day.
Dec 2020 · 79
unhinge from the day
South City Lady Dec 2020
Somedays, I long to confess
sensations from my heart
without wearing the day's addiction
to restrictions, permitting unlicensed
syllables to samba indelicately -
without even a blush,
passionate imagery sheds
her workday facade
as I pour her slender physique freely
within the hourglass
of an unrepressed burgundy
A long first day back from Thanksgiving break ‚̧ԳŹ
Nov 2020 · 105
A blessing for the season
South City Lady Nov 2020
This year has been a learning curve full of lessons which have tested our patience while reinstilling the importance of friendships, family, and selfless giving. Let today be a celebration for the spirit, for all that we have to be most thankful for. Here's to rediscovering beauty through poetry, to shaping hardship into timeless art, to sending the world tremendous love.  May your today be filled with joy and happiness. ūüíē

Happy Thanksgiving!!! ūü¶É
Although today is Thanksgiving in the states, this blessing is for the world that we might find healing and hope.
Nov 2020 · 58
South City Lady Nov 2020
tasting morning air's divinity
we sample words through
swollen lips made gluttonous
from soaking in each other's eyes
fingers played out over
sumptuous skin, thoughts mingled
in early morning revelry
the aroma of your love
wafting in on tinted feelings,
these tender cordials
we sip upon til dawn
Nov 2020 · 96
Garra (Spanish for talon)
South City Lady Nov 2020
we claw through brittle days
       upon calloused hands
hearts chiseled into Celtic swords
                                       yet we hold on-

hunkering down through
       blistering nights,
trudging beneath
               the frosted moon,        
         awakening at mottled dawn, sleep deprived,
       riddled with a profound ache
for distant fairy stories
we will not surrender
      to shrieking banshees,
           to long-stemmed loneliness,
  to prevailing hunger,
                  to our minds' mischiefs fretting
        as shadows in    
                   unforgiving hours

      instead we galvanize as druids,
              extracting golden amber
from faraway dreams
        depositing them as seeds stowed
beneath winter's cloak-    
   lore keepers
                       of pandemic secrets

                                    -until spring
    thaws the frozen river beds
              of our poetic fingers          
    pollinating speech
                     while we spawn
into garnet roses
(blood soaked with piecing stems)

    a reawakening of voracious beauty,
the roaring Aslan,
             unmuzzled prophesier
                                   of breaking dawn
In these dark days, we will persevere until the coming of daybreak.
Nov 2020 · 84
Gratitude Awakening
South City Lady Nov 2020
our palms form steeples
where friendships and family
fed a lean year -
sails align with stars' constancy,
assurances that celestial visions
will chart our course
from inter coastal brine
toward Prussian blue sea-spray
unfiltered sunlight,
blissful afternoons await
beyond today's uncertainty
splayed clouds break, reforming
parceled dreams,
awaken your heart to feel
the healing days outstretched,
this gravitational pull of love
Nov 2020 · 67
South City Lady Nov 2020
"Anything you lean into deeply, with love and passion, will bring you to yourself."
                                    - @nohmtema

and what of these loves
and passions, what do
they speak
from our withered lips
when time has molded
us into monoliths baking
beneath a multitude of days;

will we recall the beauty,
the bloodthirsty rivers devoted
in toil of our worship?  
will our mind arc
in recognition of its inception;
will these feeble hands recollect
the efforts painted upon
the earth's cortex?  

will our devotions withstand
time's industrious use -
become memorialized in song,
penciled within leather tomes,
recited upon lips of lovers,
hung upon gallery walls,
or perhaps replicated
in a miracle as slight as
a child's wink?

should these devoted cathedrals
of our hearts' construction
withstand this narrow dimension,
may those who later feed upon
their artistry weld them into hope,
wander their naves and transepts,
sing from choir lofts and cultivate
their own melody of beauty
for eras to come.
Pondering life's beautiful intention and the dimensions our lives play upon generations to come. In the days of Covid, we come to bless living passionately, ardently while holding the door open for future voices.
Nov 2020 · 120
my wish for you
South City Lady Nov 2020
Feed your heart, free your mind, surround your soul with those who are kind.  Channel energy toward positivity; be resolute in caring for yourself and others.  Punch in each day without regret; yet, don't forget to languish in day's end, to celebrate the peeling sunsets that ripen into nightfall.  You are loved, you are beautiful, you are all the dreams stored up in your heart. My love, find your happiness and never let it go.
My wish for HP poets today. ūüíô
Nov 2020 · 115
Knight Templar
South City Lady Nov 2020
i once believed
in the infinite hands of time,
  the metronome beating
as a distant storm front bleeding tears
for others' sorrows,              
      never my own-

now, a crackling pulse, thundering across splitting fields, beckons;
          I fall on brittle knees,
the slash of biting steel
caresses my flesh; the lion's roar
unburdens my soul.

Gravitating to an unfamiliar tempo, thrashing from former convictions, my eyes cast upward
            peering through the womb
of a universe unborn,
           where destiny lay
    still fused between my teeth,
upon the soft palette
of newly christened

    lightning blisters a design
(once ordained) into rubble
     the misaligned truths-
             of who I am
what purpose my hands preserve;
           where do these
unparalleled seasons lead?

       I resolve
                to follow the heart
toward a liberating chasm
steadfast dreams
       it seems
                 my  journey       begins . .
Inspired by Poe's poem "Eldorado"
Nov 2020 · 122
raw expression
South City Lady Nov 2020
How do you know the locks to pick, the clasps to open, the words that break such silences -- you forever unshackle my expressions, leaving emotions so unbelievably exposed, naked before your loving eyes.
Nov 2020 · 62
South City Lady Nov 2020
you tease between
my slender silence,
knowing always the sultry
surrenders your trembling
syllables awaken,
such palpitations
seizing each breath
as tender exhales
patter like soft footprints
across a deserted beach
where paired seagulls fly
amidst daybreak's
purpling storm.
Nov 2020 · 222
South City Lady Nov 2020
When I awoke to catch
the ocean at sunrise,
I spied the moon
still out beyond curfew        
tiptoeing in sleek oleander,
glistening outside
the landscape of dreams.
Nov 2020 · 83
South City Lady Nov 2020
Love will come to you,
not as a mist
wetting your face softly,
but as a tremulous storm
shaking your passions loose,
swaying your thoughts
with ravenous appetites,
flooding every arid place inside
with the intimacy of hands gripped,
eyes enchanted,
words laced in poetry.
It feels good to write love poetry again.
Nov 2020 · 136
dreamscape mystery
South City Lady Nov 2020
the sea wrinkles, extends
beneath her moon glow, awaiting
its lustrous return
keening with melancholy ache
of wave soaking midnight sands
unreflective as night's obsidian
hand - snakes along his features
casting a shadowed aura
across his liquid expanse
lulled into silent slumber

while the moon fore-sakes
her nightfall promise
stretched alongside
his ivory form, awakening
breathlessly, tremulously, he
discovers her as moonshine
on outstretched palms, bathing
in her resplendence

         was it all summer night's splendor,
         (quicksilver to his mind like the moon        
         beckoning his misbegotten sea)
         or had she - at last - returned
                to solace his lovesick dream?
Was she a metaphor or a goddess--no one knows, not even he.
Nov 2020 · 72
South City Lady Nov 2020
there you are - thumbing a ride
with happiness, extracting love
from the sequins that complicate
her heart's design, stitching them
between your eyes so you can peer
beneath her sea's depths
categorizing feelings before
she navigates them for herself

your momentous swelling
hovering inside each breath
tickling the insteps of secrets
stashed behind a cracked staircase
whisperings starched under steadfast lips
that smile to contain you, refrain you
from getting too close
from learning everything
there is to know about
   her love
Why is being vulnerable so exhilarating and frightening when we love?
Nov 2020 · 122
a two-minute look
South City Lady Nov 2020
Breathe. Accept.  You are not the wrinkles in bedsheets or faded stars you dipped dreams within. You are this face, long and crookedly smiling, accompanied by dark eyes with brows that feel the painful weight of time stitching together aches felt in others.  Your hair threads into strands braided with midnight and a heart  straying toward forgiveness.  Peer through the shadows, the unlined eyes, these pale lips.  There‚Äôs faith in those contours, desire behind your hips.
Never forget to see the beauty within yourself:)
Nov 2020 · 80
night crawler
South City Lady Nov 2020
words flutter as fireflies
flicking the glass
anxious, incessant,
nagging my sleep
berating decisions,
lamenting shortcomings,
tapping upon every insecurity
until they are spoken, liberated
from the heart's sarcophagus
I watch them fumbling through air
spiraling madly, luminescent
in their liberty, twirling
upon night's velvet cape
then dissipating into the ether
of forgotten memory
as thoughts expire
and settle into the fragrant satin
of freshly stained dreams
An ode to the  sleepless nights of this week, of this pandemic, and the ways we acknowledge and wrestle with our restlessness through poetry
Nov 2020 · 98
Election Day
South City Lady Nov 2020
you are cinnamon light
shimmering the burnt cheek
of apple crisp afternoons
penetrating your core, ravishing
in possibility, tranquility  
decide how you'll treat today
spend her preciously, selectively
honor your hands with activities
that replenish hungering thoughts
learn your value in words spoken
in your care for others, and mostly,
the expressions you say
to yourself that cultivate self-love
for you are divinely constructed
configured in silken care
and majestically your own
live this day as an elegantly arrayed
promise, gifted for you to unveil
exhale this new beginning
Here's to new beginnings for the self, for the American people. I pray this year brings great healing.
Oct 2020 · 513
new moon
South City Lady Oct 2020
your hissing  tongue
pierces once again
vile words, berating my worth
only I have learned (at last)
to disentangle my heart
from your snare's belittlement
staring into the unwholesome sky
with muted lips
awaiting tomorrow's painted beauty
I am saying goodbye to HP for a while. I will miss you all and your beautiful words, but need to protect myself from verbal cruelty at the hands of an unkind follower.
Sep 2020 · 512
ardent leaves
South City Lady Sep 2020
you speak of her as light
possessed with amber eyes
dispersing your heart's darkness
but can you also love her night
dwelling behind an artful smile
as the moon dips between clustering trees
casting black velvet shadows
a hush between lips, damp with waiting
can you hold her unsteadiness  
with faith-filled hands
patient and calm until her moonlight
shimmers upon your skin again
Sep 2020 · 369
Writing Club
South City Lady Sep 2020
we sat after class tracing scratches
through six months of static
stinging and hacking
from so much phlegm
trapped in our vocal chords

as I wrote
their bravery bled through
my dry silence,
an overpowering heat
strengthened my resolve
to speak through crippled lips
bloated from too many withheld words

I closed my eyes, felt their calm
soothing my hands
folding them into a fingered steeple
where now we bow our heads
retreating from today's tension
into the solitude of curved symbols
a hieroglyph for hearts

to recreate
          that which was once broken
to foster reconnection from distance
to peel back layers of feeling
and arrange our secrets
         as poetic scripture
My Friday writing club group met for the first time after school today. Although the students and I wore masks, we wrote together and rekindled our special connection. We all left feeling like we had experienced a therapy session. :))
Sep 2020 · 469
harvest moon
South City Lady Sep 2020
why are we
so crudely made
when placed along side
our conceptions of love

we fall miserably short
of caring, listening,
giving, receiving
yet in our dreams
there is no threshold      we must cross

the slip into love
is as effortless
as the moon's benediction
after an autumn night's
prolonged slumber
Sep 2020 · 906
love's inscription
South City Lady Sep 2020
hold my fingers in yours
    let's inscribe
                                 love letters
       within the cloud's  
               dimpling heaven
in golden filigree

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† and terra-cotta   b l u s h
Sep 2020 · 218
from the shoals
South City Lady Sep 2020
she, a placid sea of smiles,
a tincture to soothe his distress
with restorative moonstone eyes
the hue of a frosted moon
in milky highlights

yet tempests corrugate
her shimmering textures
liquid skin trembles
far beneath this sedate surface
a turbulent passion,
a movement of flowing tentacles,
multi-colored sea anemone
brush the sea floor
stirring pebbles in the undertow
as ossified diamonds

his lips tingle at the ripples
released from her long-awaited sigh
he feels each seismic vibration
like a tuning fork held close
to her heart's palpitations
translating their varied tempos

he steps from the shoals
toward her undertows
hand held out to brace
the unsteadiness, then words
break open in sea spray
she hesitates, lingers long,
soaking in his confession
pulling him from the shallows
towards the depths
of her harlequin heart
So, I wrote this after reading Glenn Currier's "Splendid Shallows."  It's a splendid poem and inspired me to write as the female persona. Thanks for the inspirational words.
Sep 2020 · 264
heart's destiny
South City Lady Sep 2020
Do you ever feel
that there is a greater story
living inside you than the one
you wake up to
each day,
one richer,
more prismatic,
where you can dress
in your bohemian voice,
open oak paneled doors
once denied you,
become all the radiant
seasons speckled
in russets
and autumn golds,
pale peonies,
and Titanium whites?  

Do you ever imagine
the mirror's reflection
as the real you
standing beyond your
mind's limitations?  
What would it take
to awaken
on the opposite
side of your thoughts,
to dream in excess
& possibility beyond
the confines of this
reality to a world
where you become
all that you can imagine?
Sep 2020 · 240
life is but a dream
South City Lady Sep 2020
Do you ever imagine
      you've lived this day
long ago

only under the beveled glass of a dream,
and now,

you're just going through

      the motions using muscle memory?
Are we carrying out the tissue of our dreams conjured up centuries before?
Sep 2020 · 139
South City Lady Sep 2020
I sit here feeling
the flesh of the world
heaving with the enormity
   of today's pain
tears are indescribable
watching eyes chiseled
from hardship, lips pressed
into sepulchers of unspoken words

I kneel before an altar
           resurrecting childhood faith
whispering again a scripture
to relinquish this surcingle
         clenching my chest
  we are more
                      than these dark hours
we will rise

         from the bleeding woods
and hurricanes threatening
       security and any semblance
of peace

we are more than these crises
                      and when the smog
        fades, the tempests   retreat

we will lift our hearts
   use our hands
                and rebuild

humanity again
I awoke today feeling the heaviness of our world, the fires out on the West coast, the hurricane making landfall near my home on the East coast, people shrouded in fear and uncertainty, jobs lost. The world is crying, it seems. This poem is my prayer to our world that we will find our way back from these wanderings, that even though we are lost, we will be found.‚̧ԳŹ
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