Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
I am colouring you purplefor the sacredness of your beingfor the majesty of your soul I am colouring you purplefor the joy that you spreadfor the laughter we share I am colouring you purplefor purple best expressesthe depth of my love. (For my granddaughters. Art my own.Colouring you Purple previously appearedon onewomansquest. com)
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Dock sittingpast midnightparental dronehumming in distance Two silhouetteshaloed in moonlightI lean in, heart poundingyour lips brush my forehead Nothing more…Nevermind! I blurtscrambling to leave rejection a soul tattoo (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.Image my own. Care to join me and write about your first kiss?Drop me a link so I don’t miss it.)
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Righteousnessspeaks not ofDivine intent Indigenous sufferungodly loss fromChristian hands A Muslim communitymourns the brutalityof sanctimonious wrath Hate is the inventionof mortal minds – Divine love is a riverthat flows for all. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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Abandoned, this heart –old walls scarred but solid Lest you look upon me with pity,remember – roses grow here planted at the peak of love’s holdvibrant despite the ensuing thorns. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.Image my own.)
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Burn the love letterswatch as each quaint lie curlssham interrupted –betrayal’s intricacyscatters amongst the embers. (Image my own)
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Petals:I’ve counted thempressed thempreserved them Dropsof sentimentprescientpretenders Trivialpursuits of passiongaming for lovechildish ploys Petalsfickle as the seasonselusive as joytoo soon expended. (For Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: petals. Image my own.)
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Rings me every timehe’s in town – Tumbleweed, I call him –a man I love to hate He tints my normalcywith neon rushes, flames of screaming lust – I’m better of without himwish he’d lose my number…well…maybe after next time. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own. Piece is purely fiction, I promise)
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Beneath the willowa young woman dreamsHarlequin romancein hand – portrait ofstormy-eyed perfection Innocence luxuriatesin spicy dreams, awaitslove’s sweeping encounter –hormones not yet bearingthe bruises of disappointment. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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“I’d like to get you know more,”he said, pulling up a chairmet with stunned silence “Truly,” he prodded, “I feelas if we’ve drifted apart,and I’ve ignored us.” I might have said “No kidding”but hope swelled with his wordsand I blurted: “Ask away.” So he listened,as he had that first nightwhen tipsy and enamoured We’d stumbled […]
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I was the sunyou the moontill she cameand somehowyou believedin the syzygyof three – Were we sheepthe earth womanand I, acceptingshoddy alibishearts eclipsedminds sealed bylunacy of desire? (Image my own)
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