Bantering with Octagons

[sigh]

emergence is
a crawling forth
sliding out to daylight
to blink
and wonder
and worry about
all that brightness

i stand naked in the sun
with arms raised high
feet set apart
and a song in my soul


yet there are tears on my cheeks
and a sob in my heart

torn
always torn

 

[GreenEyedGirl]

Standing naked before the mirror, I see flaws disguised as beauty. I see aged covered with youth, and innocence lost. The mirror displays all for my critical eyes to see, if I choose to see. Curves revered by some, reviled by others cover my hips, thighs, chest. Dimples from smiling so much, crinkled where few will smile back. Texture completes this work in progress.
Standing naked in the mirror is a beautiful thing.

 

[tortoise]

Do you ever get the urge to roll naked in a mixture of honey, cayenne pepper, sparkling apple cider, tickertape, chestnuts, and Absolut vodka?

Or is it just me?

 

[Dillinger]

Beautiful honey mirrors
Dimpled sun circles
Sizzling orange souls
Fantasies of Virgin Fjords

 

[tortoise]

simply sinful nipples
dimpled by nimble nibbles
little by little
they shimmer with spittle
glistening, glowing, and new

 

[freescorfr]

Let drop and falling slack,
white snake square-pied black
throw aside this glistening stone,
Once deaf, now silent grown.

Egg-shaped, marble smooth.
Newer every day.

 

[sigh]

egg-shaped, marble smooth
breasts upon display

a young woman's beauty
a young man's lust
healing for the weary
affirmation for the just


eating dirt to stay alive
sun is hot and near
where's my water?
where's the shade?
shudder yourself with fear

then walk out with head raised
to face everything
and move on

 

[cymbidia]

Moving on, whirling, twirling, little drops of brilliant sunlight scatter across the surface of the creamy smoothness of Magnolia grandiflora petals as the flower opens, spreading itself widely, eager to capture all of the sun, all of the rain. Just like me. Winter is over. Summer has come. Hallelujah!

 

[Black_Bird]

Drops of sunlight in the dew filled night sky,
Held above with silver yarn and firefly mist.
Blazing moon sending out its cool breezy stare,
and over sixteen towers, nine angels dance.

Blue is the blood that flows through her veins,
Violet is her eyes enraged.
Where does she go when men walk melting?
Please wake me up among the watchtowers.

 

[sigh]

knock at the door and there's a witness there
two usually, with the watchtower in hand
dylan's version was better though
and hendricks turned it to pure fire

i witness birth
and name it a miracle
i witness death
and name it the same
what spark is it that defines the line between the two?

it's the spark that matters
the spark that tingles along our spines
the spark that make a baby cry
and her grandmom smile
the spark of life
turns stone
to breath

 

[Jimi]

Standing like statues, the pair at the doorway turn into pillars of salt. In the garden, blessed by the laughter of children, the marble goddess awakes, shakes off the dew and joins in the innocent chase and chatter.

 

[sigh]

emerge from warmth and dryness to
walk into the cool crisp morn
to stride through grasses
wet with morning dew

shake off the dew if you dare

but beware
dew is the magic of a water sprite's wings
shake her off at risk
of becoming her eternal love

 

[GreenEyedGirl]

Shaking off the dew, I sang into the wind and rain as if god were beside me, egging me on. Proving her non-existance in one whispered encouragement of wrong doing.
god is not Alanis Morrisette, nor is he George Burns.
She is not he is not she is not.
But I could be wrong. It's happened before.

 

[sigh]

a whisper made me do it
said the child to her priest at mass
so i took that rock and threw it
through a window with a crash
and that's when momma caught me
and thrashed me on the ass

so i don't listen no more to whispers
be they right or be they wrong
i've taken instead to following
the messages in beatle's songs

everywhere there's little piggies...

 

[cymbidia]

Will you still need me, the Beatles sang,
Will you still feed me,
When i'm sixty-four? and i gotta say, 64 is a lot closer today then when i first sang along with the John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Course that's how times flies, right? Faster than a speeding bullet there at the end, they say. Ah! But how sweet that fast time, how populated by memories of ghost laughter and picnics crumbling into the corners of long-ago afternoons it is. Is it really better to burn out than to fade away though, as another sage of those times would have it?

 

[freescorfr]

Lucy on her thighs with tied bonds
Braking free like a child from his push chair,
Wincing, terrible, frantic
Heaped tempest flaying
Unlashing.

Comic tumble in the dewy grass.
Wet clothes cling cold.

 

[cymbidia]

Wet clothes cling cold while laughing children splash each other joyously and the adults look on with smiles of tolerant intolerance. Childhood is so fleeting. I'm having a do-over, i think.

 

[Svedish_Chef]

Childish freedom, a way to arise. The time of your life, with all truth and no lies, Glorious pleasure, the land of the free, nothing like children, for you.

And me.

 

[freescorfr]

Free. Out of slavery.
Full bellies and blank countenances,
Protean imbalances,
Empty bellies and sharp wits.

Diet matters: better a diet of Worms
than a kilo of chocolate.

The child was named, "Michael".

 

[GreenEyedGirl]

From empty bellies, razor sharp wits slash and feint in an effort to belie their weakness.
There is so much to see through, so much to know, so much to lose control over.
A child could do it.

 

[cymbidia]

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose Janis sang, and the remnants of that sentiment echo into the word control. A bad word. A word of force. A word of power imbalances.




Wait.




I like power imbalances, at least in sexual matters, so bring it on baby, let the control rule the energy flow, let the heat sizzle, let the flogger fall, let the moans and screams and panting arousal peak. Let it loose, baby, while the fiddles play and the boat sinks.

Bring it on.

 

[freescorfr]

The grasping ocean, deep throat devours
the sinking boat.
Motionless, extinguished minds lie huddled
in the restful hull.
Peace waves in seaweed curls
Anemones dance a dirge
Lampeys sing a banshee wail.

Spermatozoa jump the firing gun
The race once started always swims its course.

 

[Jimi]

Full fathom five? Not even close... the grey paint is turned brown, the sea-life regenerates daily - long finished with their meagre offering of flesh. Three generations remember their sacrifice, and they smile in comfort far below the Denmark Strait, still, but living through those thousands of mobile human descendants whom they sired.

 

[Dillinger]

Greyface organizations
Painted red with Erisian intent
Swimming through words of...

Chocolate worms.

YUMMY!

 

[freescorfr]

Discord, the palefaced ranger,
riding solo. Tonto
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam
In tent, teepee and wigwam
Buring the totem pole
Because it's cold this June.