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South City Lady Feb 2022
i pour a shot of amber song
it soaks through cubes
infusing my glass with
emotional pungency,
melodic lucidity
i saunter through lyrics
of nostalgic wonder
like purpled heather
amplified beneath
distilled sunset

words elongate
upon every sip
my heart parcels out
meaning through the final
round of your sylvan song
undulating sensations
flickering candlelight
how to capture your blood's
heat, ripened grape upon
lush lips, each slips me deeper
into intoxicating whispers
I grow drunk upon liquid feeling
languishing in shadows
of heaviness and divinity
I wish I could have written song lyrics like she could.
Mar 2021 · 405
Newnan Strong
South City Lady Mar 2021
This weekend, my city was hit by an EF-4 tornado.  I'll never forget the sirens at midnight or holding my kids' hands tightly in a small closet as the news warned to brace for impact in 3 minutes.  There was the unforgettable sound of hail and well over 170mph winds and then, the eerie calm that followed. But mostly, I'll never forget driving the roads before dawn to see enormous trees yanked from the ground by the roots, limbs snarled around power lines, and roof flashing and furniture littering the ground. The devastation took only 22 seconds, but its ferocity didn't shut down the resolve of our people.  I am reminded that hardship and tragedies teach us gratitude, inner strength, and generosity.  I am reminded that people are inherently compassionate and selfless as we help each other rebuild. ❤️
Love.
Mar 2021 · 453
to the poets . . .
South City Lady Mar 2021
write your soul's depths
belief in truth's concepts
for you elicit a precious voice
resonant to raw strength
instinctive courage
press forward through unclear days
in the gloom of unknowing
you reconcile love with hate
propagating belief beyond
sight or sound
where speech is sacred
as dying breath
make haste - your echoes
reside within blistering canyons
for others' hope to hear
Keep writing your truths
Feb 2021 · 315
the daily grind
South City Lady Feb 2021
"Get immersed in your writing process until the world is gone."         -Stephen King

Writing starts out as an unforgiving act with a rude listener whose back is perpetually turned.  You feel his disinterest as your unconfined mind spews ideas into warped silence, trying to capture airy words still wet with flighted feeling, to strip them down, distort them into a surreal collage of unrehearsed meaning.  

It's a crusade against the self, really, where you push reality beyond the scope of eyes or ears until only your heart is listening.  Then, and only then, do the words materialize in your head, rapidly filling the mind's empty stadium. You become the spectator, the speaker, and the space. Poetic lines are the paste as ideas collaborate; you learn to stand in the cyclone, feeling a poem's tremendous energy, permitting the words to dictate their own dignity.  

They rush faster and faster as you press their loops and curves to the parchment witnessing their enchantment, the dizzying display of language tumbling under and over and through until you are left exhilarated, breathless, and undefeated again . . .
    that is until tomorrow comes.
This piece describes my writing process.  what is yours?
South City Lady Feb 2021
I imagine . . .

a room draped
in muted lighting
the scene of a recent
gathering,      now departed,
nostalgia clings
to a hazy Chardonnay glass
stained by cinnamon-tinted
lips, one sip remains;
                              I indulge

across the room,
      conversation erupts
into liberated laughter,
echoing spirits    l o o s e n e d
in moonlit tongues
beneath a winding staircase;
my shadow caresses
the wooden banister,
              eaves
                     dropping  

by floor-length windows,
majestic fingers cloak
a bohemian blush
as ardent eyes lean in
without inhibition; my lips
burn from their amorous
        exchange

then haunting notes
drift upon midnight air,
the room blurs,
disintegrating into
shimmering confetti,
      spilling down
              back steps
that sting an untamed night
with distant memories,
bewitched in peonies,
fragranced by a piano's
final resonant
key
South City Lady Feb 2021
At some point we all confront
physical pain so profoundly intense
it feels we will be consumed by its overwhelming conflagration.
The deeper the burn, the steeper the journey,
the greater these life lessons become etched within the slick skin of our hearts.  

Our life's true purpose is stored
within those hours, weeks,
years of desperation, of sweat,
and introspection.  When we finally awaken
to witness our acts of courage along
with every dip of failure, we feel blessed
for having survived the ravages
of a tremendous storm that bent our faith
and altered the trajectory of our lives' paths.

We are not defined by the worst events
that have happened to us; still, the long alienating nights spent dissecting thoughts, confronting fears, acknowledging
our weaknesses can bring us into this moment
of extraordinary hope as we truly begin
to imagine our lives beyond
their conventional value; instead,
we value the years our lives extend to us.  

Experiencing pain, loss, and uncertainty
can liberate us to live a bigger lives
than we had ever originally planned,
to become all we were destined to be
from our inception.
On pondering physical pain, hurt, loss
Feb 2021 · 188
. . . dream of better days
South City Lady Feb 2021
Your life is ripe for love, and it shall come
to you so unexpectantly, kissing your
soft lips when you thought you'd never
taste the sensation of passion; love shall
find you and replenish your soul
of all you thought valueless. You are
deserving of late nights diminishing
into rapturous dawns and tomorrows
more sumptuous than todays.
You deserve, and love shall come.
Only dream and believe of better days,
my love.   ♥️
Feb 2021 · 197
nocturnal song
South City Lady Feb 2021
caught within the rain,
      i taste its gentle texture
as tears upon porcelain cheeks
such an intimate exchange
                    i can scarcely breathe
or audibly express
sensual aromas
through words' simplicity

I have spent a lifetime
in silences. [unspoken]
traumas committed
   against my tongue;
  for years,    
            I heaved snow against
my chest
       cultivated forbidden
territories so frightfully
                   polar, i can no longer . . .
handle their sharp-shapes
without the ecstasy
     of frostbite

through winter's moonlit veil,
i sense     your heat,
a telepathy of tenderness, hands coaxing
me from murky waters;
                                            come for me
            your prodigal soul-  
reborn
    rekindle these heated
passions,
          unclasp my mind,
unfasten the sash
restraining these chapped lips,
          thaw each
finger within
your eyes'   firelight,

let me feast
upon your mellow night,
clothed in laughter,
        wounds exposed
as damp rose petals,
            pull me toward
your heart's
shelter, so this loneliness
    may find
                      (at long last)
a nested branch of rest
within the wingspan
  of your nocturnal song
A love story, a fantasy piece collected from the cold embers of poetic silence when the muse is mute, and all I long for is her conversation through my pen once again.
Feb 2021 · 365
bliss
South City Lady Feb 2021
— "That great abyss that exists between loving and imagining that one loves."   -@Esu Emmanuel


the most hopeful wish we store
in satin-boxed hearts
is the unquenchable bliss
that longing will flourish
into staying, that cravings
will reach beyond passion's
momentary caress nestling
into late latte mornings
where his hand fills the contour
of your safekeeping
& sincerity collects upon
tongues soaking skin
in the stillness
of velveteen rain

Happy Valentine's Day 💕
Feb 2021 · 677
feed the fire
South City Lady Feb 2021
pain is temporary
still I crave its fuel
feeding hunger, burning
through darkness,
wafer moon teases
naked trees
blanching sleek limbs
running away
from desperate crowds
that sting my senses,
from curses singeing
midnight nerves,
I am
a warrior
in No Man's Land
Feb 2021 · 167
curing process
South City Lady Feb 2021
those hollow mornings hewed
in darkness, thick
with silence and self-doubt
daily vigils dedicated toward
an unknown uncurling from inside
each desperate season,
a panorama of your heart's tears
releasing past mistakes,
protecting, reinforcing,
curing your soul to receive
an untold beauty,
the resplendent glaze
emblazoned from within
we are in a constant state of becoming and such a glorious process it is when we stand apart and witness its evolution, its unpredictable beauty which was intended all along.
Feb 2021 · 240
south city blues
South City Lady Feb 2021
listening to the riff
within winter's rain
straining overture
for evening's pain
scuttling rhythms
strummed into melody
feeding feelings
to pleading words
recorded, undistorted
with smoke-stained hands

glass tube glides
against weary strings
exhuming faint-hued memories,
bled from moon drenched rivers
molasses eyes trapped
in cobalt melancholy
    play this heartache,
         (it won't take long)
     take this heartbreak,
         (it won't stay strong)
  till rolling thunder
            floods song with sleep
I was watching a documentary with three legendary electric guitar players.  When they played slide guitar, the blues welled up inside my Memphis heart. 💙
Feb 2021 · 652
grotto
South City Lady Feb 2021
perhaps we are really
only jagged landscapes
mired in pain
disclosing our truths
inside the caverns
of written words
Feb 2021 · 239
truce
South City Lady Feb 2021
today, amidst sharp winds,
compelling backward steps,
            press forward,   silently
for gossip cannot induce
loose words without
breath's harvest
& anger will not quake without
a mind's ill design    
therefore let air disperse,
mingled in the fragrant
stillness of unbridled peace
I am traveling like a nomad to 4 different classes teaching face to face and remote students. Apparently the heat is not working in my usual classroom. Instead of venting, I wrote this poem. I'm lucky to work with amazing, talented students and to do a job I love.
Feb 2021 · 232
insomnia
South City Lady Feb 2021
connoisseur of late night whimsy
tree limbs draped from murky sky
serenade sleepless windowpanes
in hollowed whips of wind
he peels back time's blistered face,
darts in between shadowed hours
with ghoulish eyes that blink
and retreat from shore
drifting phantasm,
fishing vessel plundering
a restless mind
those 4am wanderings
Jan 2021 · 216
conspiracy
South City Lady Jan 2021
what liberties you take
to cleanse your guilt
at the cost of my tranquility
I am but Caesar's cloak
run through, blood soaked
blade secured at your hip
I am now a ghost
of the lips that once spoke
your name whose flesh
can feel your steel
but once
Jan 2021 · 298
cracked portrait
South City Lady Jan 2021
do we wear our sins' composite
within the creases of a smile
distresses revealed
in ****** unrest, subtle ticks
affixed within our
crooked reassurance

is our vacant stare an invitation
leading the curious down
cellar stairs where
vagrants of the mind wander
in hesitations and anxieties
and circumlocutions that
seldom speak our truest intention

does even a nod confess
daily compliance
a face composed
to satisfy the world's approval
while punctuated tears
we shed in silence,
exclamations
of sincere expressions
turn a blind eye
This poem was inspired by the final line of BLT's "Toxic Fruit":  The toll for misdeeds
and wrongdoings
are the lines
that mark your face.
Jan 2021 · 372
I m A g I n E
South City Lady Jan 2021
your words pervade
aromatically over
my defensive shell,
  gradually releasing,
relinquishing each imprint
of resistance
         as I unclench,
embracing you
in hopeful sips,
thirsting
  for nourishment
         your morning rain
splashes upon fluted lips,
my tulip soul soaking in
translucent song

your fingers splayed
    through silks,
unadorned by fear
ornamented by
                 your grace
sunlight burns through
my facade where residue
of past anguish once held sway

    fingers lift my chin,
gingerly, to your face,
while you listen
  pressing your heart within
my gypsum, solidifying
these pliable impressions,
confessions shared openly
restoring faith toward trust
"I Can Only Imagine"
Jan 2021 · 382
send poetry, love
South City Lady Jan 2021
chiding words
seize my heart
your blade forged deep
within my breast
tainted by wrath
my droplets stain pathways
toward turbulent seas
let the crimson
run
set my voice
free
reunite beauty
from pain's mystique
drain memories
steeped in mistrust
I will not entice anger
disenchant this hope
alienate my spirit
send this poetry,
sweetest love
Poetry possesses the power to puncture hate and bleed love
Jan 2021 · 149
dancing to Santana
South City Lady Jan 2021
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 🌙
Jan 2021 · 159
watercolor
South City Lady Jan 2021
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
Jan 2021 · 207
lucid dreaming
South City Lady Jan 2021
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 2021 · 120
storming the Capitol
South City Lady Jan 2021
my thoughts
   are    h e m o r r h a g i n g
so much         slippery

                       feeling
               betrays my silence- steeped in murky isolation,

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

before
      an altar              

      recollecting      
                                      ­­   reconciling
  beliefs
        that might coagulate
and
         so preserve [stained faith]

I whisper  a solitary

         word    
                 BELIEVE
    
    feeling its enchanted ripples

sifting between stiffened fingers

      holy water to disillusioned lips

speak for me
        these splintered lines
align
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 2021 · 300
return to class
South City Lady Jan 2021
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
again
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 2021 · 303
woodwind
South City Lady Jan 2021
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 · 149
Pentimento
South City Lady Dec 2020
older beginnings,
newer endings
airbrushing
our former selves
reconfigured shadows
painted in our likeness,
perverse substitutes
for who we once were
inside

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
behind
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 · 148
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 · 89
Reiki
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 · 161
dawn
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 · 75
iTouch
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 · 207
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 · 164
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 · 55
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 · 281
Ascension
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 · 85
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 · 91
halcyon
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 · 64
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
wake,
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
stroking
each line, sustained
feelings laid bare
as newborn skin
beneath winter's sky
Dec 2020 · 50
life's footpath
South City Lady Dec 2020
“We 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.”                        
                            ­                                                            -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 · 45
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 · 84
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 · 64
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.      
          
           Ecstasy.              

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 · 80
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. ♥️
Dec 2020 · 48
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 · 60
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 ❤️
Nov 2020 · 53
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. 💕

Happy Thanksgiving!!! 🦃
Although today is Thanksgiving in the states, this blessing is for the world that we might find healing and hope.
Nov 2020 · 39
aperitif
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 · 158
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 · 88
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 · 59
Cathedral
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 · 68
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. 💙
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