Tag Archives: nature

Whispers and Murmurs

At the first of morning, before work begins,

me and Emily Jane walk in the dim, damp mist.

The second growth forest, the call of singing birds,

the dark, dark ink of the cross on her pale wrist.

We say nothing, their is only the cool and quiet.

A little creek runs beneath us, reminds me of childhood.

A still, quiet voices whispers in the air, and I can almost

feel close to The Spirit in her, that I’ve scarcely ever understood.

She turns to me, takes me hands into her own, and bows her head

and in murmurs and whispers she prays over us, this new day.

I bow my head, and feel at peace, before the war begins again,

I wish I was always with her in these moments, that innocence could stay.

Slash of the Moon

Daisie sat on the edge of the river, cold beer in her hand,

just brought up from the cold water where it was sat to cool.

Her friend was asleep in the tent, but she was wakeful, restless,

and sat in the darkness beneath starlight and slash of moonlight.

She felt almost weightless, as if she was straining to break free

from the earth, from gravity and the world, back up to those stars,

from which she’d been seeded, either by supernovas or malevolent beings,

to nothingness of light, the dream that was without wakefulness.

Out in the water, she heard splashing and an animal cry, hissing, angry.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dim luminescence from the stars above,

and in the white shadows, she saw a mermaid, with black, black hair

and glints on aquamarine skin, and eyes that shined, fish in it’s mouth.

The mermaid, bared it’s teeth around it’s  kill, angry at being seen.

Daisie’s breath caught, cold fists clutching her lungs, her heart racing.

Eye shine in the bone pale moonlight, they gazed one at the other.

Then the mermaid, with a flick of her tail and a big splash, went under.

Daisie sat there in the starlight, the cold and gripping fists slowly letting go,

and looked out dumbly were the wild and hungry eyes of the mermaid had

gazed out upon her, one of the last wild things, and comforting in it’s harshness.

Even here, only an hour away from Gatlinburg, untamed beasts still lived.

Daisie sipped from her beer, and thought of her friend, sleeping, without a care.

The alcohol, and the cold, the weightless untethering, the flicker of the mad world,

all unmoored her from her flesh, her spirit walking in the stars, on the true moon,

that was Artemis’s skull after the waking of her last daughter’s eyes, so long ago.

A Sigh Of Shrouds

Cara and I were camping in the forest;

by a clear and roaring stream we set up camp.

The dark night and cold, grey morning misty,

the leaves and grass, the air, our faces, damp.

She bathed naked in the stream, the sun away,

hiding it’s face, like God would, behind grey clouds.

The waters were cold, but they carried away her sins,

and she was naked in spirit, clean, not a sigh of shrouds.

At night, through the mesh of the uncovered tent roof,

she lay her head on my shoulder, and we watches stars crawl

across the night sky, clear and whole, with the cities far away.

Even in the sky, angels hide their breaths behind an illuminated shawl.

But after she is asleep, curled into a ball, muttering as she dreams,

filled with wonders I’d not yet found or accepted in grace,

I sat by the campfire. Like Mercury, only my face has light and warmth.

This strange season a whisper, heard only in such a quiet, lonely place.

Absolutely Weightless

I go to the cemetery after school,

stay until the sun falls, the stars come out,

And all is quiet, even as the city rolls on.

Dead people won’t hurt you,

they won’t give you any shit,

that don’t ignore the calls for help,

or slap down your troubles.

And the grass still is soft and green,

and the trees still grow tall and haughty,

and the sky still shows you the world above,

and you can still lay down, dream of something better.

All these names, one beloved, once above.

Some have flowers and treasures left.

Some haven’t seen a visitor in years.

I sit quietly, listen for them, know I too will be gone.

Dead people won’t hurt you,

they won’t give you any shit,

they don’t ignore the calls for help,

or slap down your troubles.

And the grass still is soft and green,

and the trees still grow tall and haughty,

and the sky still shows you the world above,

and you can still lay down, dream of something better.

Lambs don’t gambol here, but angels watch over you.

Stone wings can pierce the sky, so the night can slip in.

The stars I watch, and imagine, other worlds around them.

Laying in the cool grass, I imagine I am a ghost, absolutely weightless.

Dead people won’t hurt you,

they won’t give you any shit,

that don’t ignore the calls for help,

or slap down your troubles.

And the grass still is soft and green,

and the trees still grow tall and haughty,

and the sky still shows you the world above,

and you can still lay down, dream of something better.

All To Loss

I see her, out in the water, the distant face
and long black hair of the mermaid.

She watches me, wary and curious,
not sure, and not coming closer.

Our eyes lock, and I smile for her,
but hers in return is ghostly.

Then she flips her tail, swims away,
back into the depths that are no shelter.

Our world makes it all go dark, all to loss,
and nothing will remain from our greed.

Her eyes, ice white and sharp, stay in my
mind, as the day begins, humanity marching on.

Breath and Blood

The old and ruined church in the woods,

open to the sun and the stars, and overgrown

and verdant with ivy, kudzu and flowers.

A place of worship forgotten, used by people

long gone, it is taken by nature, and nature is God,

and God is awesome and always wiping us away.

Solitude, the cool, moist and misty morning,

the babble of the little clear brook, and silence,

allowing a small, still voice to speak.

In the wind, I feel something, in this left behind

and more righteous cathedral, that is more than

breath and blood.

A moment, and then the world comes in, and

breath and blood is all I am, simply human,

still longing to touch something behind the air.

And I think of a long past lover, and a November

evening, in youth and freedom and a gaudy city,

and if in those soft kisses, did our souls really touch?

Summer Light and All Things Possible

A young woman surfs across the water, a child of the sun.
The crystal clear wave curling around her, the sky eternal.
Summer light and all things possible, all things so beautiful.
Young and free and without a care in this momentary paradise.
 I dream of such perfection, empty but for the breath of life, of light.
Washed clean in pure waters and mind quiet and soul radiating.
I watch from shore, from a screen, dream of the return to Eden,
to the place where there are no thoughts but only light of the sun.

Just Bird Songs Calling

A bathing woman, all alone, cool and deep waters.
The sky above is a sliver through the tall trees,
and she watches the clouds drift past as she floats.
 The day is quiet, just bird songs and the wind calling.
She is weightless in the water, free to dream and love,
dream of the shining one she always adored from afar.
 The water is cool, and the day is warm, growing dark.
She is free here, without there eyes, or their voices.
The sky and her are one, but she must fall back to earth.

Where No Eyes See

Down the little trace of a trail,
away from the road and the picinic ground,
away from all the people and their noise
and crudness, she waits.
 Trees and weeds thick and green.
Only the quiet of the wind
and the clear water babbling.
Even my thoughts go quiet.
Even my heart grows still.
 Hidden in a clutch of trees,
a patch of grey pebbles and sand.
Deep waters still and dark.
I see her dark hair and glistening face.
I see her huntress smile.
 I strip naked and go to her.
The water is cold and sweet.
She runs her fingers through my hair.
Wraps her tail around me, brings me close.
She kisses me, claiming me.
 Where no eyes see, we are together.
A place left for her, as the wildness
and darkness of the world is flattened
and made into an amusement park,
a shopping boutique.
 She holds me close, her skin warm
despite the coldness of the water,
the depths of the darkness in our hearts.
We go down in the depths, beneath a flickering sun,
breathing the light of passion.
 We swim, above and below the water,
wicked as children, as free and strange as innocence,
as lost as lovers who cling to each other.
The sun fades away, our time passes away.
Sweet times are never long enough.

As the stars start to come from bloody sunset,
I put my clothes back on, and head back
to the world of fast food, gossip, and churches.
Leave her behind, to go to her den and her kind.
I blow her a kiss. She smiles before diving away.

 I walk back, heading buzzing with her devotion,
and my own heart swells with the feelings I
have for her and our little feral grotto,
our place in a better sun, a better dream,
as I hear the roar of traffic, people laughing.

Sky and Sea

I wake as first light comes over the sea.
The blue waves black in red light.
The black being chased to blue.
Soon, the blue sky, the blue sea,
will be one, indistinguishable.
 She wakes, and sits next to me.
Peace in sleeping under the sky
and by the sea, the crashing waves
that soothe, remind that there is
more than humans.
 A war rages, the world is burning,
even  as we find the peace of an
ancient, more wild goddess,
here under the sky, by the sea,
crashing waves.
 We hold hands, and when light comes
we will hit the tall glass waves,
ride them to paradise and to shore,
to that place where we are no longer
ourselves, but one with sky and sea.
 And the world is burning, the blue
of sky and sea being turned black,
like the hearts of humans, the minds
of the pious. We are burning home.
We are burning ourselves.
 A moment, one with sky and sea,
as the water takes us back to birth
our us and of all life on the verdant land.
One with sky and sea, me and her, becoming
one by fading into a goddesses heart.
 And the world is burning.