tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84746739509230271702024-03-13T12:55:59.920-07:00IS THIS THE RIGHT PATH?Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-34814711168222674882016-10-20T10:23:00.000-07:002016-10-20T10:23:46.812-07:00While you fly.When I returned I found your jumper<br />
thrown, carefree, on the floor<br />
in abandonment, I concurred.<br />
Charcoal grey in stitches, slightly pulled<br />
from that catch last night,<br />
a nail on the chair.<br />
I wove it back through<br />
now quietly hidden<br />
in reverse.<br />
later, freshly bathed<br />
I pulled it on<br />
hot skin now warmed again by your scent<br />
your aftershave, your sweat<br />
memories of home,<br />
morrocan lamb,<br />
bacon for breakfast and candles,<br />
now only puddles of wax on the dresser.<br />
we are together<br />
droplets in the air<br />
but you are absent<br />
flying high<br />
I curl into our unmade bed<br />
breathing you in.Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-85606797314595626432016-04-24T14:07:00.002-07:002016-04-24T14:07:55.480-07:00Disappointment in The Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgwGsnL9kmSVUwbz2JCsrx36ryyEx-vBFx_Ar5IEjs-jWUxKu3j4f9Cq1URgJDBczNvmmnPWi4x_hdZd3W9B3Ey0jHOqnGDxKNj5bzMmmRo9gpVE-wOrVi0YkkTGKw7yiBVmSLJmPLEXs/s400/deer+tom+chambers.png" width="400" /></div>
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photo credit . Tom Chambers</div>
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I tried not to look </div>
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my view</div>
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singularly..evaded the obvious</div>
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the tiles </div>
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cold.</div>
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My toenails</div>
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scarlet</div>
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but you never noticed.</div>
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My chest rose in a sigh</div>
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I wanted you to place your hand close</div>
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but </div>
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you didn't.</div>
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24/4/16</div>
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<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">for the other poets work go here.</a></div>
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-27211530626771619462016-03-27T13:48:00.001-07:002016-04-07T05:21:37.751-07:00breaking bread<img height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicHjP6N1pcocdYC7W8BLdpcXZ9QwtiJp3FwENsDkE3Rhd0QEFhqKvsxyQ6hrFaJhI-9SqCHt6ilZYafzgv2v2dEKdD18k7-75VvKcZCpAjyznArJ7MSPa6q5cPtHc2qeZpnVLshNnVXh6f/s320/David+Ligare+still-life-with-grape-juice-and-sandwiches-xenia-1994.jpg" width="320" /><br />
Image by David Ligare<br />
<br />
Breaking bread.<br />
<br />
i will break the bread with you<br />
wrinkled hands hold passion<br />
although that's nor evident to many<br />
cast it onto the waters<br />
feed the unseen<br />
classless....hapless...clueless<br />
my lips are stained with burgundy<br />
drops stain my dress<br />
from my mouth or yours?<br />
i sign the cross deep on your chest<br />
you beg me to follow<br />
i scratch an epitaph on oak floorboards<br />
sweeping away the lies as i go<br />
a humming bird hovers for nectar<br />
she is willing but ultimately despondent<br />
the bees are fallen<br />
lily pollen coated fingers<br />
are not enough to sustain<br />
the light is fading..an hour lost<br />
hidden at the base of a japanned trunk<br />
holding crushed peony petals and star anise<br />
it may be found come October<br />
but there is no certainty<br />
by then we may be reclaimed<br />
or found in other places<br />
waiting for a key<br />
or a song<br />
or a scent on the breeze.<br />
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<br />
KD 27/3/16<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">For the other poets work go here!!</a>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-22308267632069096362016-03-22T13:23:00.002-07:002016-08-03T11:02:06.483-07:00Mr....i shall pick myself up<br />
i thought<br />
stupid as i am<br />
that i meant<br />
maybe just a little<br />
that over the months<br />
no over many months<br />
i had made you smile, laugh, cry...<br />
with something other than hurt<br />
with something like longing<br />
like hope<br />
like a hidden little secret<br />
pushed far into your pocket<br />
that<br />
in quiet moments<br />
of longing and lust<br />
would be unwrapped<br />
held up to the light<br />
for closer inspection<br />
the memories of touch<br />
and sweat and breathlessness<br />
would carry me in your heart<br />
in moments of imagination<br />
your muse<br />
showing you<br />
dreams and fantasies<br />
you admired that<br />
but<br />
but<br />
but<br />
then you where gone<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
I always knew your secret.<br />
I always knew your lies.<br />
I accepted them.<br />
But still it was never enough....was it?<br />
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-78058032453895662232016-02-22T11:14:00.005-08:002016-02-22T11:14:55.233-08:00Saving souls<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEighfv_LBWoJIbBpFn50l88Jk1xVo-nvCvDL3I5hbeApnj8YO5b6rbnHknNOTSaR0tkiA0J87keLhopUTcMPSoWdDBo279q6iTEee367kQ3C4ApSenMLtJAGDDRivt-CcRaZdOpptSKfPOn/s400/christ-in-the-wilderness+stanley+spencer.jpg" width="390" /><br />
Christ in the wilderness by Stanley Spencer<br />
<br />
Somewhere a curlew cried<br />
gorse scented blooms filled the air<br />
yellow with pollen.<br />
On the path below walked a man,<br />
I watched as he weaved an uneven path<br />
stones scattered underfoot<br />
as clouds scurried in a unimpressive sky,<br />
in the distance the sheep dotted hills<br />
sighed in contemplation.<br />
My dark mood unfolded to the stranger<br />
his unwelcome intrusion a nasty gash on my day<br />
I set my stance proud as he approached,<br />
when drawing level i asked his business?<br />
His returning smile unnerved me,<br />
he offered up a handful of daisies,<br />
in his second hand lay a chick<br />
feathers ruffled in meditative thought.<br />
'I'm saving souls' he replied<br />
while walking on.<br />
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KD 22/2/16<br />
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This story eludes to a tale told to me years ago when i lived miles from anywhere in the Scottish borders, a visitor told that he had met God while walking the track to our house..i always hoped i'd meet him too, if I did he remained incognito.<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">For the other poets work go here. </a><br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-63974805795960682532016-02-10T13:35:00.000-08:002016-02-10T23:38:24.017-08:00Seven Needles<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yVqx6acohylf9xyg6ytTc94zzSL7fw5GtIMDoFZhXEiNH3RAKz9-JcMtnmYOQg9kljRlj6o69LolgvhEEj9zPKt3fdnXqyAWS3WL1GEd617HXv24vxTfXaZncrQnFub7X3e529eUKT0n/s400/caroline+knopf+crop.jpg" width="400" /><br />
photo credit Caroline Knopf<br />
<br />
<br />
daily i toiled<br />
seven needles threaded ready<br />
gold silken twine wound<br />
around blistered fingers<br />
a line worn through the nail<br />
sucking the blood dry<br />
I weaved a tale<br />
onto blue serge<br />
it told of faraway lands<br />
sea monsters and mermaids<br />
flying fish dancing to the stars<br />
of Neptune surrounded by pink shimmering shells<br />
as octopi curl, in awe at his feet...<br />
Your coat is ready, resplendent,<br />
pressed with the hot iron<br />
straight from the coals,<br />
in a secret place<br />
my name in curlicue<br />
black on blue<br />
a signature,<br />
the embroiderers work complete. <br />
<br />
KD 10/2/16<br />
For the others work go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here</a>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-26701886248595558832016-02-01T10:42:00.002-08:002016-02-01T10:42:41.594-08:00Bridge<img height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBa4TZe0T15hLD07or7Cg8iPUWnMhi5O7_fczsI3eEaP0U93x_KlpNoAB5hBK9uPmnZcwoo2dSExcEIMAwn_WOgDpv1ZdalExl2vYdalZE5RiX4rJSkZ78MyCxECTSzXrbXEFGIczj_em/s400/valette%252C+adolphe.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<br />
between the towers<br />
there is a bridge<br />
unseen by the masses<br />
gossamer thin and fragile<br />
it leads to you<br />
I falter at the first step<br />
I need your hand<br />
will you give it?<br />
<br />
KD 1/2/16<br />
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the other writers work is <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">here </a><br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-38743802942328697822016-01-24T09:13:00.001-08:002016-10-20T10:24:27.894-07:00Secret vortex<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEireZj3L1x34eCHWV-UGg6hipshJyHiYWaf6d8Nj8sxatSpAU_oVXvg3RCd4o1bNoN44NI2mNdW_bHTu22lgW9TZXqKJ57B5EecsZFMonm3_Ue4scS2MHvEdcsgMamNHuQOY9W9az8QE_g5/s400/woodman+francesca.jpg" width="400" /><br />
photo Francesca Woodman<br />
<br />
at speed the air hissed<br />
forcing my eyes back<br />
a zombie girl<br />
white eyed and fluttering lashes<br />
a monster<br />
wrapped in a false costume<br />
of purity<br />
and lace<br />
will you catch my arm?<br />
bring me to a stop?<br />
chasing the vortex has changed me<br />
your fingertips lay violet bruises<br />
and my knees<br />
roughly scrapped <br />
tell our secret story.<br />
<br />
KD 24/1/16<br />
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Our writers work for Magpie tales <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">number 303 is here</a><br />
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-51993401408469340182016-01-17T11:07:00.000-08:002016-01-17T11:34:51.778-08:00Magpie Tales...No.302<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLptg6Coh6ZvmSRrRardgDwO6QYyf-P6qHndIxzs-xKg7fkzLqaPtbJza0X05TMFnh6sf8-sS6nBoRQha4PFt_PbdqT4UFJqFoZ2LIZRJ7JjzuaFl9GNj-qlDzvc2LucmQ9ye_1ssTGRB/s400/mirror+3.jpg" width="266" /><br />
<br />
look down<br />
between her being and her soul.<br />
fathom depths<br />
deep<br />
and reflective.<br />
her heart has been<br />
outgrown, split. splintered.<br />
trace the hollow of a thought,<br />
faded stripes<br />
ripple the air<br />
time cracks. dried. shadowed.<br />
Lime plaster, a pale chalk pink<br />
dusts her feet. Still.<br />
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KD 17/1/16<br />
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I wrote this poem in a homage to the way Bowie wrote at times...I cut it up and rearranged the lines ( he sometimes wrote his lyrics like this)...don't ask me what it means usually I have no clue!<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">The others are here.</a><br />
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-76774386454084123972016-01-12T12:12:00.001-08:002016-01-12T12:21:26.141-08:00Bury Me in Petals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">a dozen pink</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">faded blooms</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">sensually unfurled</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">frame my passion</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">sherbet scented perfume</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">hovers overground</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">where i lay</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">my lips part to its touch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">tendrils of vine and sweet pea</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">curl erratically to the sun</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as i sink lower</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">collapsing briars hold with thorns</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">your shadow </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">blinds my eyes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">adorn me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">place petals around still feet</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">wed me with a bindweed flower</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">pearl white </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">caught with dew</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> a powder blue of larkspur</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and scattered lavender</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">surround my limbs</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">now slack with want</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">wait awhile</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as stray ants find me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">tickling skin before you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">set my breath to shiver</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">plait my hair </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">with a candy twist of dicentra</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">little beating hearts twitch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as a passing butterfly catches a memory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">kd 12/1/16</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> see the other poets magpie tales go here</a></span></div>
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Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-75628276005778775662015-12-20T13:40:00.000-08:002015-12-20T13:40:48.184-08:00Meeting<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindanIbg4w615miE954mniOvNcwz_QoARm7V9YEOxXuTu2F6WSuFKsVyZnljV8kQYzS4ySqJFijDMMUZ2dcdxyObDWbiVYzEJbsK2kkbvhwuGRyR1IZcI3sGrn7BiXj18Tkkg6d5p-ytvj/s320/airport.jpg" width="320" /><br />
<br />
You smelt of cheap red wine<br />
as my tongue flicked over your lips.<br />
Gauloises tainted your finger tips<br />
as you tipped my chin.<br />
Shadows of past lovers disappeared,<br />
scuttling through crevasses<br />
into an iron grey nothingness.<br />
<br />
I tiptoe in silver shoes,<br />
a trail of wanton organza sweeps behind me<br />
wayward and sultry in conflict.<br />
Lashes close on emerald eyes<br />
against strangers with wrong impressions.<br />
The dilated iris are only for you.<br />
I flash you a look and you agree in principle. <br />
<br />
KD 20/12/15<br />
<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">For the other poets work go here!! </a>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-66480213202532017082015-11-29T07:07:00.001-08:002015-11-29T07:07:51.254-08:00Autumn VeneerStone stands firm<br />
impervious,<br />
the steam rising<br />
from cauldrons of bubbling fat<br />
of pig and duck<br />
lays thin veneers<br />
on marbled rooms.<br />
Autumn cabbage invades nostrils<br />
then quietly drips from architrave and pilaster,<br />
While clove and juniper berries escape their pounding<br />
by the pestle,<br />
scattering from the clumsy cook<br />
onto floors,<br />
ground into crevices by leather soles<br />
later deposited in Turkish silk.<br />
A stray hair and drip of sweat<br />
add impudence to the dish.<br />
<br />
29/11/15<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_-SRCWL9BMCzax_CHE-nKAI2rzODId6Pjg27O1VetZBc25i1Z4PnzQjxCGdeZk3dIZb0ndSq0_aAhI0oI2GL37bWz69DrFfKnTgGhIkNM7nm_XE_JhWcq1TNG_Ws3SnhrGxZZxiTPEnE/s400/1+Joachim+Bueckelaer+1560.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; font-size: 11.2px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15.68px; text-align: center;">Joachim Buecklaer, 1560</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; font-size: 11.2px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15.68px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, FreeMono, monospace; font-size: 11.2px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 15.68px; text-align: center;">The other poets work is<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here</a></span>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-78849619226334152042015-11-16T12:55:00.001-08:002015-11-16T12:55:26.250-08:00Game<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKHZd84RYN2dxAkfLWWXpAuym-cXAWMbXZBGzIoA5O8VVLVZiNks5GwHEdDX_8g0hFa9gZcFmHuRbUUodcIY84YEN4GZdLkvqmelE8EUdlg2QUsz9KzJINuKxKByOAaTk1yrDYHfWp5LR/s320/cat+kitchen.jpg" width="265" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I watch her shuffle</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
from inspiration to boredom</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
flour dusts the floor</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
slippered footprints map the triangle</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
fridge to sink to hob</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the flickering neon</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
lights up my appetite</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the kitchen takes on artistry</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a dutch masterpiece brought to life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
feathered game flops among onions</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
herbs, bright green, a plenty</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and maybe</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a speckled egg</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
rests on a delft blue dish</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I lick my lips</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
awaiting partridge heart and lights.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
KD</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
16/11/15</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
for the other poets work go to <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">Magpie Tales here!</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-33652317361478043532015-11-01T07:46:00.000-08:002015-11-01T10:08:25.309-08:00Soft Luck<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjKJf9hFOZFeMS3ZJstf9FhPCoQTCCIsciCJHBSp6MdnFqMgnlbGlJAhPII6jsDUQymjFe1NYaT_aQFm2X8WGqFsByzGSGKwSYxG9w_ckK_J0g8o7dSmRXDUG9UNRVzNyXIXaTjm9C6mV/s400/rabbit+elaine+usdin.jpg" width="266" /><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> photo credit Elaine Usdin</span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><u><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Soft Luck</span> </u><br />
<u><br /></u>
<u><br /></u>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I see you in my dreams</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">disappearing around corners</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">or pressed disdainfully</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">under fallen leaves</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">that hump and fall to your silhouette</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">darkness smells of mushrooms and scurrying mice </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the heavy sky the blackest blue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">like day old bruises</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and silent </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">deep </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">water</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my toes curl into dirt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">scarlet nails grim at the edges</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">i shift fore and back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a dance of indecision</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a rabbit foot necklace between my breasts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">grey and soft with luck.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">To see the other poets work on this picture prompt go to Magpie Tales here.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-34910981555457556482015-10-21T19:46:00.000-07:002015-10-21T19:57:25.868-07:00autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGQ4tvQ1ZdXNUyxgEUUeMp7TLWN9qerDFXazKFgLZXjI8OLGef1Og4cxS1FMy6cL7ZthNWk8CK58J4sVk2zv7li3h_8z-deiACzDVQhwn6OeRADvqjj7mu6SFsQcf09JOXsMI_H-J0_Y/s1600/august315+158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGQ4tvQ1ZdXNUyxgEUUeMp7TLWN9qerDFXazKFgLZXjI8OLGef1Og4cxS1FMy6cL7ZthNWk8CK58J4sVk2zv7li3h_8z-deiACzDVQhwn6OeRADvqjj7mu6SFsQcf09JOXsMI_H-J0_Y/s320/august315+158.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
she crept up slowly</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
lost swallows the harbinger</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
of days closing rank</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
auburn seeps through green</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
falling</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
as clothes discarded</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
with quiet abandon.</div>
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-21376069722752204482015-09-01T13:35:00.002-07:002015-09-01T13:35:48.103-07:00Lay me down.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51GTc_GqCZwDgiaHyWEEAAHl4TpaMVCHxxH2VLyD1E3d5CHnH3vmeDaNWpn6n1pU_e7xa5zniMERKgBgZob2UMM8sN5Xqq8Q4imqk-_ekR6iM3AtlblNsw38hKJDToQsBI3mQV4VWqThT/s200/peonies-1897+william+merritt+chase.jpg" width="177" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
as the summer evening draws in</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
memories filter through the fading light</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of my days in the beds of peonies</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
gathered petals strewn on the ground</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i lay in a magenta grace</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
listening to swifts chattering their gossip</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and the cry of the red kite</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
soaring the heavens</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
perfumed air a constant</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(now a candle burns of peach and tamarind)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as the sun is a fickle partner.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFgKsjWEWioqU189eblYdGxbcPzQost2WK64KdTs5d5d5NAKG36SSKstwfGbr7bYMxuU8NEyHOaNWIO9OH2MOOKl0GXUJI7H1vMyVF6hFppVFwG8bv2lwm_rwAm11_NDcIwcG1eWPiaI/s1600/june15+246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFgKsjWEWioqU189eblYdGxbcPzQost2WK64KdTs5d5d5NAKG36SSKstwfGbr7bYMxuU8NEyHOaNWIO9OH2MOOKl0GXUJI7H1vMyVF6hFppVFwG8bv2lwm_rwAm11_NDcIwcG1eWPiaI/s320/june15+246.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">To see the other poets work go here!</a></div>
Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-58017678075404120682015-08-09T13:38:00.000-07:002016-01-17T11:10:11.183-08:00obsession<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrhlVpRhb8bwVrpzgs1MM9ahCXXysnZTTO8iBwho3_W5AKh3lbp43O_RXLatiBDQ6d-8JYAkPv8p6-A126J2npaUCgyOTZnbLnYJ5q6Ifn5f4-v0GSevIxCcM3QMk8FwSmFpsFAsNiiSA/s400/image100.jpg" width="335" /><br />
<br />
one day<br />
i<br />
will be able<br />
to forget<br />
that you fill<br />
my mind<br />
with inappropriate thoughts<br />
your words hold me hostage,<br />
an obsession,<br />
twisting around me<br />
as smoke, an image in<br />
faded silver mirrors<br />
flit a second out of sight,<br />
perfumes catch momentarily<br />
just out of range<br />
a memory hiding somewhere<br />
my grasp gone<br />
frustrating<br />
that place you touched now numb<br />
the lace etched on my skin<br />
white, delicate for you<br />
has been made a tattoo<br />
i wear it like a talisman for your return<br />
i cannot let you go.<br />
<br />
kd 9/8/15<br />
<br />
for the other poets work f No. 282 <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">go here</a>.Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-46842548024297571992015-08-06T12:36:00.002-07:002015-08-06T12:37:02.469-07:00new dawn<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9SxBb0IGg5nAiIUK8a236dsd0cGYb1njZD3BhTBegtvHs3iqliJctKs3rvCCisiMc-Nvl50DbS-i4e-2gMFD0_DLDA5ik_Jrogquycb0GzbAHIVZDO2iwVOBQ8w7ByT25w-eXAW8wl0d/s400/image50.jpg" width="266" /><br />
<br />
i am the wild thing that sleeps deep within you<br />
curled dormant for the moment<br />
thread blooms of rose madder through my hair<br />
weave oat grass wreaths to set at my feet<br />
breath the earth<br />
deep and pungent<br />
worm casts dried and scattered to the winds<br />
<br />
scar your knees<br />
as you pray to the earth<br />
rise bloodied<br />
emboldened<br />
stretch free<br />
unchained<br />
for a new dawn.<br />
<br />
for more go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here</a>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-56931633333446561622015-07-21T11:29:00.001-07:002015-07-22T12:26:21.333-07:00settle<img height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1fyqKz6Y-lI8a_DtXady-9NZQ80uw8KAqf9AkylJnKrdV4ayyxVVpoE958xkV9HntkOyRvs-15vlGOLAGGSl7yXwgiOYW_fzQ7cho65p_m6Hp3G8iO0B0U-CW_pZtj6ouq73TrPbCS-t/s400/staircase.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<br />
i saw the scars on your hands<br />
relics of past disasters<br />
a map of an untold tale<br />
and<br />
secrets hidden behind blue<br />
veined<br />
lids<br />
open<br />
revealing<br />
the skylight of your misdemeanors<br />
leave me<br />
bewildered<br />
your beauty<br />
absolved<br />
I look to the heights<br />
the dust of pine<br />
and scented cedar<br />
filter down<br />
settling on my shoulders.<br />
<br />
KD 21/7/15<br />
<br />
For the other poets work go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-71262922260633448822015-07-12T12:25:00.000-07:002015-07-12T12:26:39.223-07:00P.E.R.<img height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5U69QXlmDrErHJD0pmysZzXkHiL3uogHPZ9Tm2YbQ1CaZOVGDM6tjfbzCqOsLTMTb3D0DK4pvTfKBSpB5-bz2j6Jm4gl4RtGgNFgVIcNY7Tg0dcRftYPI7jzq4XHU1q0yPW30nDRSd4n/s400/image+101.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<br />
i didn't see you go<br />
the chest settling rattle<br />
now silent<br />
vanished into the bed sheets<br />
white and starched and straight<br />
<br />
one day i may regret that<br />
<br />
i visited Kahil Gibran<br />
and found solace<br />
within his words<br />
striding across the skies in a jet stream of beauty<br />
<br />
in my mind now<br />
you are astride a Norton<br />
riding into the sun<br />
free and vibrant<br />
<br />
while we stay lost.....restrained and slow<br />
awaiting our release.<br />
<br />
KD 12/7/15<br />
<br />
<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">More here</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-72372699913228846972015-05-25T09:41:00.000-07:002017-04-22T13:10:05.312-07:00memory<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlUsy4Eukg39lhwogp4BZifMqS3XX6GgMPLPAquG7ECQmLlfjPIH43utG6xQpIzfNjQsFQUKFp1n3jLZskose-0rLAru9bQDPZpuq0_n3E_tWkkbOUeKEJxpT5yZ2eS5gaB4_GMJVPMLP/s1600/Still+Life+with+a+Hat%252C+an+Umbrella%252C+and+a+Bag.+John+Frederick+Peto.jpg" /><br />
Still life 1907 by John Frederick Peto<br />
<br />
<br />
Lazily left where she hung them<br />
for this moment home to spiders,<br />
tattered silk is food for worms,<br />
shredding skin in dust piles<br />
below.<br />
The itch of her carpet bag<br />
grazing my memory<br />
sadly mournful,<br />
inside the detritus of a last shopping trip<br />
a broken earring and copper change<br />
imprint fingertips now lost.<br />
I pull on her hat sharply<br />
straw nibbles my ears<br />
pass your scent to me<br />
so I can remember your soft wrinkled hands<br />
holding mine<br />
and a dry lip on my cheek.<br />
<br />
KD 25/5/15<br />
<br />
For the other poets work go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here!</a>Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-18190095214964862812015-05-17T11:56:00.002-07:002015-05-17T11:56:29.646-07:00Filigree<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRzL6V3UTO9L6H8CUqu80sbVEcFzkq9zrER99V9l8dxpZcCCmeCDr6U4D7L9jzq7FuM5RUoAx-mUfZuCdW8YV6jPjCWEGNva375FAvI3hW8DeK8UnaitzZPafqljFq7fThutgbDO70k05/s400/ulrike+bolenz.jpg" width="332" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">image ulrika bolenz</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Filigree wings<br />
silken,<br />
charmed,<br />
ethereally beat.<br />
<br />
I walk beside<br />
attar of rose geraniums<br />
catching still air<br />
touch my fingers,<br />
please,<br />
erase the pain.<br />
<br />
Will your eyes<br />
illuminate my path?<br />
Stretching replete<br />
regardless of my sins<br />
I walk free<br />
smiling inside closely.<br />
<br />
Sable lashes brush,<br />
high cheeks blush<br />
you cover me<br />
eat my spent breath<br />
willingly, again<br />
and again.<br />
<br />
The swifts heartbeats<br />
caught at the window.<br />
I bow low<br />
and release her,<br />
frightened feathers<br />
leave oil shadow imprints<br />
on the glass.<br />
<br />
KD 17/5/15<br />
<br />
For the other poets and writers work go <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/">here!!</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-46857230266603225212015-05-03T12:04:00.002-07:002015-05-03T12:04:51.141-07:00I pour over the details.<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEqdvIVbqBoU1StBA_lAnIqhH2zCV4HbKkc3RJ6bt4YMz4VTfUlhqFsVgaNHeACm8Z7qOHNJpXoAciDxQ1EpYBPxYVqsAwqegYJsxdnFFciNWXQzB_9mM2aHDcgJpJGZjI3f7s26I3vys/s320/selfie.jpg" width="272" /><br />
<br />
What if I take moments in time<br />
capture it in the lens?<br />
I can look back<br />
feelings lain bare.<br />
<br />
White skin, stretched taut<br />
over white sheets<br />
once starched but now crumpled<br />
with effortless desire.<br />
Hedonistic tendencies fly into dull corners<br />
fading sunlight reducing their ardor.<br />
<br />
I wanted to bring you flowers<br />
bright dying things for the table<br />
it felt somehow wrong,<br />
in the circumstances.<br />
<br />
Later over smoked salmon bagels<br />
I picked at the bones of us<br />
the sadness of a singular entity<br />
assuaged by a finger touch of hope<br />
of a repeated performance.<br />
<br />
3/5/15<br />
<br />
For the other poets work for Magpie Tales NO.268 go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here.</a><br />
<br />
<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-71456930189030995932015-04-27T15:18:00.002-07:002015-04-27T15:30:42.232-07:00Glenfinnan.<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNRMzBx1267OgLfIryZwLjYz6PEE4lpNLrjZrxgEf1clG7rCnhmxoBNR8fVJlwTWJakUlevDFwI0MfkestMtzZiv81RsFov6-Utf2_NXoeac_t00RGlEXnEI8tQspN8UA1hcQ1Xy50m3u/s400/train+2.jpg" height="400" width="303" /><br />
<br />
I stood by the waters edge<br />
pine loaded islands<br />
bowed<br />
low into the mist.<br />
<br />
Climbing high up the tower<br />
it seems my head swirls<br />
visions<br />
in a vapour cloud.<br />
<br />
Rain drops cling<br />
on whispy hair,<br />
red,<br />
wayward in the breeze.<br />
<br />
Startling, a distant whistle<br />
as Lords of the Isles<br />
thunders past<br />
westwards to the Kyle.<br />
<br />
Here I feel the ages<br />
surrounding like a rough cloak,<br />
reeking of old peat smoke<br />
and fallen dreams.<br />
<br />
The past presses down,<br />
heavy as the hills,<br />
purple,<br />
a bruise on my heart.<br />
<br />
KD 27/4/15<br />
<br />
Magpie tale 267<br />
<br />
One of the most emotionally,electrically, charged, historically,magnificent places I've ever been to, Like the ghosts of the clans are all around you. I cried.<br />
<br />
For the others work go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here.</a><br />
<br />
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474673950923027170.post-70924858085425227642015-04-19T13:38:00.001-07:002015-04-19T13:38:32.927-07:00Angle<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYYsgxGLcbSOOpRPlN_suig7V3MjFe_i9oHfr-3YKBsaB6Gp9SqCwQ9OVyQroCS0a0PjxvtA3vHEsmCK0Kns0ZfxakF_4ud5pdPnwCVKOKMaYTxgbAWajmQ4Kj1HBUPewe3JlGkjJbPrS/s400/mirror.jpg" width="398" /><br />
<br />
I watch you<br />
as your brow furrows,<br />
try to maintain your balance<br />
while leaning port-side,<br />
set the glass with ice,<br />
a slice of lime<br />
to bury your teeth in.<br />
Angle yourself to see under<br />
my skin<br />
exposed, white on white.<br />
Wait awhile<br />
then come into focus.<br />
<br />
19/4/15<br />
No. 266 magpie Tales. For the other writers go<a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/"> here.</a><br />
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<br />Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16584116146098939783noreply@blogger.com7