echoes

A small tribute and welcome home, echoes (who gave me permission to post this)

you throw images at us, a deluge, over-whelming,
not understood, but felt, with a wrench to the gut,
a crack of the heart, the blinding of an eye
You cry

you hurl emotion onto paper, a flood, inundating,
not thought, but seized, with the clench of a fist,
a wail of the soul, the shattering of a dream
You scream

you vomit out words of beauty and drag us, reeling, in;
not contained, but spewed, with the call of an angel,
the fragility of flowers, the bitterness of bile,
You smile

the wind brings you the stench of death
You hold your breath
but the song of longing carries on

oh moptop you posted this!
tender moptop, I told you most certainly did not need my permission to do so, this is your beautiful creation, your words, images, work, painting, song and breath.
When you first sent it to me tears engulfed my eyes, I was so touched...here I was trying to tell you I felt so ugly from some of what I right, how I feared and hated this, or from the pain reflected in some of my poetry and here you go writing something so beautiful, yet reflecting everything we talked of.

you are so beautiful inside and out moptop and I am humbled, sincerely thanking you for doing this and I will never forget it.

May I print this off and have it in my mirror to see and read each time I look there so you touch me each time with a tenderest smile as you always do...?

softest hugs :rose:

haha, our discussion and this poem reminds me of a poem I wrote once...

two headed dragon

I struggle against all your bold
emanations of affections,
your easy acceptance of my nature
by displaying a wicked disposition
needing to dissuade you;
dripping fangs,
razor-chipped claws,
dry back scales.

You laugh
pointing out constellations
painting the Northern Lights
drinking in the milky way...
I, perplexed
yet more determined to persuade;
the sun with her perfumes,
intoxicating subtleties
is much more a lady than I.

I am a dragon drudged deep
from within the mystic ocean,
always churning, changing,
ever rampant,
stormy and destructive,
unreliable.

Lovers do not lie kissing
when I rise with the tides
dripping mollusks,
rotten reef...
nor whisper huskily once receeding
left hanging with drift
and sopping weed.

How repulsive must I portray to be?

I would rather you leave me now, than leave me later

Lord, lord, lord, you little thing. Of course you can print it out and put it on your mirror! it is yours, after all. And if it helps you remember your beautiful self, then I am pleased. Remember what I've told you, hmmm?