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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Promises
As night’s moon shadows bend to wind whispers
recalling a time kissed by dreams
of dance and allure under willow’s boughs
A
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
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Cloak us in the midnight hours while we twine
tasting, touching till morning mist
becomes our skin and we the vapors of dawn.
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Within by L. lora
Within
fermented dandelion breath
I taste your soul
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minted touch ignites the spirit
robin’s song carries thoughts
into nether-ness
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Greco guitars warp time’s sound
with crystalline precision, snow blurs vision
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grandfather’s hands unfold
pristine, white washing fields
lone gypsy flutters close to amber fusion
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give me shelter in grey gardens
let me rest behind bracken’d stones
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with watered eyes hidden in rain
grandmother’s prayer beads fall
like hail on tortured souls
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was it Lilith or was it I
who walked in the illusion
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recounting your words
choose your side quick
the devil’s pickin’ up candlesticks
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brass holders clang empty
to the floor
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The Shaman’s Vision
Did you hear
aaaaawhen He turned his hand to you
aaaaaas if potter’s clay:
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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:
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aaaaaaaaaaa serpent spoke,
aaaaaaaaaacaressing woman’s humanity
aaaaaaaaaawith deception.
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aaaaaHushed breath whispers,
aaaaapetals feathered edge perfection;
aaaaafrailty crumples spun webs,
aaaaalittered with sparkles and trinkets,
aaaaanot kissed,
aaaaabrushed by traitorous lips.
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aaaaaFluted notes paned to monoliths,
aaaaared gold, buff dusted with ancient footprints,
aaaaagreen vine cosseted
aaaaatumbling to forest’s tented rain mists.
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aaaaaaaaaaa serpent wrought,
aaaaaaaaaaliquid notes dripping purity
aaaaaaaaaawith bedlam.
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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:
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aaaaaaaaaatouches the mists of clouds, inhales them
aaaaaaaaaawearing vapors as woodland nymphs
aaaaaaaaaaand meadow sprites ordain to dream.
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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.
