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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.
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.
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
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
South City Lady Aug 2020
you, my lotus flower
mired in depths of darkness
drowning from heavy silt
and silence
reawakening at dawn
a pearlescent flower
divinely shaped
ever constant

cultivating hope
in your petals' curves
with bowed head leaning
toward light's promise
filling my heart
with resurrections
from yesterday's blight
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
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’s faith in those contours, desire behind your hips.
Never forget to see the beauty within yourself:)
South City Lady Jul 2020
She drapes her beauty
over a gossamer sleeve

breathes music box melody

through the spindles of dreams

elopes with the stars

and whispers
lavish possibilities

through a cauldron of clouds

she, the whimsy,
midnight Blues fantasy

seeped in gin
drizzled over
my sins

she is madness
and meaning

commingled in
I was inspired by John Destalo's style in "Scavenger" and Patty and Gideon's homage to the Blues and the beautifully soft phrase "cauldron of clouds" in Shamamama's "Sleepless."  The phrase bewitched me.
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 💕
South City Lady Aug 2020
These words starve
beneath my tongue
held captive under cracked lips
bleeding incessant vowels
I swallow their trembling cries
clenching the folded petals
of love's velvet season until each
descends in elegant teardrops
silence upon damp pavement
leaving a crimson trail
of regrets my narrowed lens
dimmed, streaked
of all love's shine
fingers pricked
by countless thorns
heart blighted
in night's curse
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.
South City Lady Aug 2020
I've spent the morning soaking my heart
in your words,
feeling each tenderness,
devouring nostalgic verse,
lingering in the fields before sunset's lips
grow silent

How your thoughts intermingle
with my own, slipped like satin
over my head to dress the hips of day
Such quietude to linger in these rooms
with faces I've yet to see, whose
minds are ever present

This meditative state, laced in whispers
enchanting the morning
      thank you for sharing
your vulnerabilities and concerns,
for taking time out
to feel and hope amidst
the scars of unprecedented days

Thank you for reminding me,
we must keep pressing forward
towards the dawn
I have spent the last hour catching up on HP poets' works from the week. Teaching high school online is robbing me of much needed creative time. How I miss writing poetry, how I've loved reading yours today. Thank you!❤️
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
South City Lady Sep 2020
A student stayed online today
  to ask an earnest question:

               "Will this pandemic have a lasting
                 impact upon society, or will it, too,
                 be forgotten like the Spanish Flu?"

I hadn't thought of a reply just then;
instead, I stared through the screen
and spoke from my heart.

"I think everyone in school right now
will be fundamentally shaped
by this magnanimous event;
in prior generations, it was world wars
and Vietnam, for me it was 9/11,
but this year's tragedy will become
a fixture in your collective memory."

"My hope is that your generation
will rekindle society's compassion
and generosity,
that you will grow
from these months
of social isolation
to listen more closely,
engage in meaningful conversations
honor older generations,
your schools,
and the value
of a hard day's work."

                            "You mean to be a more kind,      
                             respectful, and responsible  
                             generation," he said smiling.

"Yes, and to show those
older and younger
what it means to be enriched
by hardship,
wise through self reflection,
humbled by uncertainties
and unknowns."
This week we read Poe's story "The Masque of the Red Death" and articles about the Black Plague and Spanish Flu to understand the role of pandemics in history and literature. I would count today as one of the most eye opening and important class discussions I have had since I first started teaching over 20 years ago.
South City Lady Sep 2020
dawn aches behind my eyelids
such a yearning for sleep
unsettled thoughts
wrinkle the mind  
I can not smooth their
inconsistencies or
carelessly tuck them back
within steadfast dreams

they creak down hallways
a long shadow billowing
in moonlight, hair tossed
as waves crashing, releasing
suspending  - I crave

the certainty of silence
this unrest disrupts
the manicured space
where I have painted

but I find, if you count
you can forget sorrow
misplace concerns
gather flesh
to warm
brittle roots
             5,    4,
secrets drift behind
an arched wing

                             3,    2
lightning retreats softly
into dim    heartbeats
caramelizing time
as amber light
fades to  
Those night games we play to harness sleep
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,
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.
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.
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 🌙
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
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.
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.❤️
South City Lady Aug 2020
if I could trim lines
texture words
savor each syllable
all the passion that erupts
from my ******* would subside
waves would cease their capsizing
sunsets wouldn't hurt my eyes
with their unmistakable beauty

if I could taste the ink-bed
beforehand would sensations
arouse this page instead of my hips
and mind with midnight lips that kiss
each pondering in unbearable sighs
I want to expel this tempest
in gaslit pages
that burn and burn and  
BURN inside

til your hands clutch
these feelings
enmeshed in ecstasy
the splendorous ache of
wanting craving
love's euphoric madness
so much
that only words
cup your face
graze your lips
spoon your soul
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.   ♥️
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.
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.
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
South City Lady Aug 2020
Sitting in the faculty lot
thinking how I'm as nervous
as my students
for our first day of class
going virtual, live every day
with all the lack of control
and all that could go wrong
(and it will)

I sit here
staring out
into the darkness
an impending storm threatens
as thunder urges me to drive
and fat rain splatters my windshield

but then, I begin to smile
because another storm will hit
and tomorrow will be fraught
with incredible mistakes
all except for one

THEY WILL be back in my classes  
and, oh, how I've missed them
like a mother
of too many children

I can't wait to hear their laughter
to form connections with each class

I can't wait for school to begin again
Here's to a new year
one that will forever change
the lives of teachers everywhere
and so, we push forward
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
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.
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.
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
South City Lady Feb 2021
perhaps we are really
only jagged landscapes
mired in pain
disclosing our truths
inside the caverns
of written words
South City Lady Jul 2020
Do poets adopt the art of words
naturally, or is it an act
of desperation, speaking
from subterranean spaces
to exhume our suppressed voices,
to find a silent corridor
where our defiance finds sound?

And if we speak, do others listen,
or is it merely an act of resistance,
this conversation within ourselves?
We awaken as others sleep
stacking words, restoring trust
in the unoccupied zones of us.

By dawn, we smile behind
a scaffold of eyes and nodding hands,
comply with the day's demands
anticipating nightfall

when, once again,

we release them-
the destitute, the vagrants
of our exiled selves,
who take refuge in tent cities
built of verse to weather, together,
the long cold nights ahead.
Note:  My use of the word gypsy is in no way meant to slander a brave people whom I admire.  I was using the word to mean nomadic, which I feel poets are when we write.
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.
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
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?
South City Lady Aug 2020
Your heart knows the trail
that wanders along my lips
how you journey through
my ruggedness reclaiming
every outpost
as lovable, every seaside
as traversable

you navigate these complexities
weaving them between the fabric
of your hands,
your nomadic soul,
the great explorer to my new lands

you claim these soft sands
bathe from my waters
sleep beneath the flesh
of my stars
South City Lady Aug 2020
I'd share with you
how much our
early morning
walks have become
sacred coffee meditations

a chance for you
to confide in me
your dreams
pose bizarre scenarios
tell me about kids who
are YouTube famous
& vow you'll
make "mom a millionaire
one day"

I smile
absorbing obscure
WWII trivia
listening to
your laugh's positivity
wanting to just
hold you close
       catching my breath

we silence
our footsteps
  staring up at the mystic sky

        an ivory moon
                    tarnished yellow
by the yawn of day

& I want to keep this moment
open, blooming inside my chest

feeling your steps racing
beyond my own, knowing this

wedding cake memory
is but a taste I can only savor

you, the moon, the talk of
future days, such riches
blessing my heart

only quiet tears express
this love

of a mother
  to her teenage son
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,
  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"
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
South City Lady Sep 2020
tomorrow threads a new day
desks pulled out into the hallway
masks adorned in silence
speaking with sincerity to students  
I might never meet face to face
yet their hearts pour out
in my dreams, making me long to hear
their endless conversations
for once a teacher
I  cannot sway my heart
from caring, and so I don the mask
and when they come to class next week
the focus becomes their learning
less upon a nightly fear for my health
for giving is our greatest gift
may self concerns be eclipsed
by love for the gift of teaching
this is my greatest wish
I start teaching hybrid classes next week.  This is a scary time for teachers whose immune systems are compromised like mine.  But the alternative of not teaching and giving carries far too great a fate.  Let us live passionately and falter by our own admission.
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
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"
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?
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.
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.
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. ♥️
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
South City Lady Aug 2020
I've known the fitful hunger
of phantasms flitting across
the moon's golden highlights
contorting thoughts into
misbegotten dreams where
I am a lone traveler again

footfall laboring under loneliness
searching for an antidote
to cure my desperate tongue's speech
alluring tendrils twist round and round
this violet heart, seducing me
with melancholy for your tender love

bathe this muted flame in your oil
tease its heat along your fingertips
let me claim your eyes for my sight
exchange your lips for mine
that I might never lose your taste
in my breath or envision a world
where you do not linger as incense
upon morning's heavy mist
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