MP’s featured poet for August is L. lora. In Lora’s poetry and her art you’ll find depth, insight, and beauty.
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As night’s moon shadows bend to wind whispers
recalling a time kissed by dreams
of dance and allure under willow’s boughs
to gossamer veils of silken delight
becoming bound by passion’s pyre
the tease of tingles by tongue’s flick at nape
illicit pleasure’s promises
Cloak us in the midnight hours while we twine
tasting, touching till morning mist
becomes our skin and we the vapors of dawn.
fermented dandelion breath
I taste your soul
minted touch ignites the spirit
robin’s song carries thoughts
Greco guitars warp time’s sound
with crystalline precision, snow blurs vision
grandfather’s hands unfold
pristine, white washing fields
lone gypsy flutters close to amber fusion
give me shelter in grey gardens
let me rest behind bracken’d stones
with watered eyes hidden in rain
grandmother’s prayer beads fall
like hail on tortured souls
was it Lilith or was it I
who walked in the illusion
recounting your words
choose your side quick
the devil’s pickin’ up candlesticks
brass holders clang empty
to the floor
The Shaman’s Vision
Did you hear
aaaaawhen He turned his hand to you
aaaaaas if potter’s clay:
aaaaadipping his finger in paint, cool to touch, word fit
aaaaaigniting the mind, itching to scratch out marks
aaaaaon paper with morning bird song
aaaaacaressing heart spirit’s night long darkness:
aaaaaaaaaaa serpent spoke,
aaaaaaaaaacaressing woman’s humanity
aaaaaHushed breath whispers,
aaaaapetals feathered edge perfection;
aaaaafrailty crumples spun webs,
aaaaalittered with sparkles and trinkets,
aaaaabrushed by traitorous lips.
aaaaaFluted notes paned to monoliths,
aaaaared gold, buff dusted with ancient footprints,
aaaaagreen vine cosseted
aaaaatumbling to forest’s tented rain mists.
aaaaaaaaaaa serpent wrought,
aaaaaaaaaaliquid notes dripping purity
aaaaaRamirez never ventured this far,
aaaaano black cloaks, no ashes to bring conquest.
aaaaaWho will bow, sweep with his song,
aaaaataste his colored visions?
aaaaaA heart sings through a flute:
aaaaaaaaaatouches the mists of clouds, inhales them
aaaaaaaaaawearing vapors as woodland nymphs
aaaaaaaaaaand meadow sprites ordain to dream.
aaaaaWhose spell is cast on moon’s shimmer under willow,
aaaaato danceaaaaa sky cladaaaaa mingling with blood fires,
aaaaaslipping out under the door like a smoldered murmur,
aaaaachance to slumber safe from serpent’s breath.