Be All Human

Sometimes such passionate love doth in her rise,
     Down from her beaten path she softly slips,
And with her mantle veils the Sun’s bold eyes,
     Then in the gloaming finds her lover’s lips.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

Be verse with me,
be all human.

Be the voice that comes
to life
when sea kisses stone,
(and) thoughts of you sing to my skin
of your mouth on me.

Be my all,
when the moon swallows sunlight
and nature blooms her wildest.

Be verse with me,
be all human…

be mine (as I am yours).
.

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform
when the moon dances darkly in front of the sun,
poetry is… unavoidable
(also, I took some rather inspiring pictures *giggles*)

Without Blood in the Ink

“The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.” ~ T.S. Eliot

.
Stories are nothing
without blood inking
words into worlds,
without bone shaping
flesh into tale.

Where blood is taboo
and
wants of flesh filth,
Imagination seeks
seppuku.

Did you know?

Poems will die
without kisses (and screams)
birthing verses,
without heart & soul writing
as one quill.

Without blood in the ink,
stories are nothing.

.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Poets United.