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Ivy Rose
http://ivyrose.purpledream.com |
Witch Of The Red Moon
02/23/04 |
In the deep, star-dotted sky,
the witch-woman of the red moon
lays down inside its crescent shape
and sways to the tune of her heart.
Her ink-black hair glistening
with its sprinkles of star-dust
as she paints the sultry night
with new constellations. Shapes
formed by the mist of her breath.
She wears the yellow of the stars
in the bodice of her blouse,
the red of her hot, blood is woven
into the fabric of her skirt.
Passions dripping down upon
young and old lovers who gaze up
at the crimson moonlight. Rivers
of love sweeping over their hearts,
glazing over their minds, tucking
their emotions into a savory bed.
And, the witch-woman smiles
at the spells that she casts
with the red-passions she creates
dripping down from the corners
of her seductive perch within
the crescent-shaped moon of red.
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Smile Of Whimsy And Guile
03/09/04 |
Your face has been a maze. Was there
a hidden devotion inside? A hidden sigh?
Were you smiling, back then? And, why?
Was the beauty of your day
found upon your singular face?
Was Leonardo charmed by your womanly ways?
Were you a captive to the dark side of him?
Was your smile just a secret
held in the heart of his whim?
Perhaps, your Mona Lisa grin
was nothing more than
the artist's portrait of himself.
Was that why you smiled within?
Could your face have been
the biographical face of his sin?
Your smile was somber and slight.
Was it of a hidden need?
A hidden tease? Or, a hidden deed?
Was it dangerous and scheming?
The mystery lies in the night
of Leonardo's own dark, dreaming.
Your face was this mysterious thing
to be handed down through the ages,
to dangle on the broken wing
of some gallery's whimsy and guile.
Where we could all be drowned in,
held captive by, that Mona Lisa smile.
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The Lost Lady
03/25/04
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Each night, she descended the staircase
floating from step to step,
groaning within the depths of her spirit.
How long had she been here?
How many eons had passed her by?
And, why had she stepped out
on that misty, midnight hour
to meet her handsome Knight?
She thought about that time so long ago
when the Dragon of the North
was lingering in the swirls
of the forest mist. He had just caught
a glimpse of her gleaming jewels...
diamonds of such purity glistening.
But she had been so consumed by her passions
that she hadn't been listening for dragon wings.
The fierce, dragon swooped down from the sky
grabbing her with his sharp claws.
And then, she had, drowsily, awakened
on the dusty, steps of this spiraling staircase.
She had been the Lady-In-Waiting
to her Queen, the most, fair Illyea
whom she served with great pride and great joy.
But, now, she flickered in and out
of the darkness. Floating above the stairs.
Crying out, "Illyea, Illyea, I must find you, my Lady."
The cold void blowing through her as she haunted
the dark hallways, night after night.
Searching, always searching for the Knight
she longed to hold, whose love ever eluded her.
And, for the Queen who did not exist
in this endless night of her new, Eternity.
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No Laughing Gas
04/09/04 |
I had a very bad, awful, toothache.
I wanted it out, now, for Heaven's sake.
I went to see my Dentist, Dr. Gigglemush.
With his finger to his lips, he said,"Shush!
This will hurt me much more than it will you;
because I have to do what dentists' do."
I shook my head, and I just laughed and laughed.
"Doctor, just let me be completely gassed."
"I think that would be quite nice; but I say, alas,
I'm on empty. I don't have any gas."
Now, this was the very most shocking news.
No gas, no giggles. I just had the blues.
He said, "Daisy dear, open your mouth wide.
I want to have a look at what's inside.
What is this? A tiny, dancing, brown bear
juggling a whole bushel bag of pears,
a Crocodile with a crookedy smile,
and little Jerry Moon inside with a file.
A knockedy-kneed runt of an old gnome
singing such silly words, 'Home, again, home.'
While little elves quite gamely dance
waving and waving their passports to France.
A gooey upside down pineapple cake
with no pineapples. What a rotten fake!
Here is a pirate picking out your plaque
to plaster it inside the mouth of Zack.
Whew!!! Whatever is that terrible smell?
By gosh, that fish has been dead for a spell."
Then it started, just a tiny jiggle.
Then it became a loud, louder giggle.
I felt a mighty tug; and then a "POP!"
I shouted, "No, no, please don't stop.
That bad tooth is out. Can't you pull anymore?
That gas you were out of would be such a bore.
This is far better. This is much more fun.
Please, do not tell me that we are all done."
Dr. Gigglemush just smiled, as he waved his bill.
"I hope you will include me in your will."
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Mirage
04/24/04 |
In the Sun of our daydreams,
our love is just a mirage.
It flutters in and out:
there but not there.
I look beyond the horizon
with eyes filled with the shimmer
of your face, your body.
You are beyond the veil
where love enthrones you
declares you to be. I reach
for you time and again;
but you are not real,
only an illusion
of what might have been.
Yet, in the Sun of our daydreams,
love has been evaporated;
condensed into the mystical.
I wait for your shadow
to be led into the light.
My horizon filled with the image
of your arms, your smile:
there but not there,
all of my dreams of two.
Your heartbeat pulsing
in and out of your bronzed chest,
a mirage of the unexpected.
Nothing is real until you and I
slip into the light of the Sun, sharing
in the rise and fall of Love's mirage.
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A Child's Prayer
04/24/04 |
Crazy Lily...they called her.
Pointing, laughing, jeering
"Crazy Lily, crazy old, Lily."
I could see what they saw.
A thin woman with pale skin,
puffy, bags under her eyes,
straggly, greasy hair.
Her clothes stained, unwashed,
miles too big. Nothing
about her made you want
to get to know her. I wondered
if anything was felt behind
those vacant eyes, if there was
any life in them at all.
Then, one day, I started
to pass her by when I noticed
something in her hands. I came
closer, and I saw that she was holding
a picture. It was of a little,
blond-haired boy with a bright,
angelic smile. Lily's eyes were filled
with tears. She whispered softly,
"I love you so much, Davie."
For the first time...I saw
the real Lily. The Lily that had
a family, the Lily who knew love,
once. And, I saw her beauty.
I drew close. Put my hand in hers
...and said,
"I'm sure he loves you, too."
She turned and smiled a radiant smile,
"Thank you for saying that to me."
She pressed something into my hand.
It was a child's book of prayers.
"You take this," she said, "Say
a prayer for my Davie. He's been praying
for me to come home, to be his Mommy, again."
We cried together and I left carrying
her sorrow in my heart, holding
a little boy's prayer book in my hands.
Lily never sat on that corner, again.
And, I've often wondered if she ever
found her way back home to Davie...
had become the answer to his prayers.
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Thought Waves
05/10/04
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My thoughts betray me
and are numerous
like grains of salt in an ocean
It must be humorous
to those denizens of the sea
to see my little thoughts go
swimming further into the murky depths,
washed onto the shore by powerful tides.
I cannot contain my thoughts
they are scattered amongst the seaweed,
hidden amongst the coral reefs of my doubts.
My thoughts breathe brine-laced hope
into mermaid dreams and porpoise love.
My thoughts have escaped the hooks and lines
of many skilled fishermen. They have given
color to an, otherwise, colorless sea.
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My Tea And Your Wine
05/26/04 |
At night, when time ripples
into pools of providence,
my heart pauses to reflect
on the tea leaves contained
in a small, white teabag.
Condensation beading-up on
the sides of the mug. I take a sip
of the hot liquid relishing the warm,
comfort as it slides down my throat.
I think of you sitting alone
at your kitchen table sipping
a glass of white wine. Your libido
resurrected at the unbidden thought
of my tender caress, my passionate kiss.
You are my favorite cup of tea,
your condensation beading-up around
my needy heart. I sip you slowly
as I would a Wild Horse Chardonnay
or a saucy red, Kendall Jackson Merlot.
Your warm love sending pulsing
waves of heat through my soul.
I relish each tempting moment,
each time the river of your love
washes over this trembling body.
And, I think of how fortunate
your wine glass is--to know the softness
of your lips upon its glassy rim,
to know the tender intensity
of your fingers upon its slender stem.
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The Passion Of I Am
06/10/04 |
I Am the taste of Passion
the flavor of Sacrifice,
the Creator of all things.
Taste of My Bread
experiment with the loaves
and the fishes:
see what miracles arise.
For I will leaven your heart
with the incoming
of My Spirit; prepare
a feast for Atonement,
a banquet for Salvation.
I will satisfy with manna
from Heaven above,
quench your thirst
with the Wine
of My Blood.
Receive what you need,
sustain your life:
become whole.
I Am Passion's fulfillment;
I Am the Christ of Old.
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Where Forever Is Bright
06/23/04 |
Everything seems to be gray,
hazy in the waning light
of a dwindling Summer sky.
The stars barely outlined
dangle precariously,
covered-over by a milky film.
I wonder where they all are?
My Nana, my Aunt Anita,
my mother's mother
who died of tuberculosis
when my mother was just seven.
Do they continue to shine? Brighter
and brighter...in that other place
where my eyes are covered over
by the opaque veil that separates
the dead from the realm of the living.
How dim the stars can seem at times;
yet, at dusk, they become visible
as the clouded-lens is torn away
and the stars have had layers of time
peeled away to reveal their iridescence.
These are the stars that glimmer and shine
with a growing intensity as the night skies
deepen and pool into expansive black sheets.
I understand then...where all those
who live beyond the veil are.
They are the stars who grow
so much brighter with each passing century
of the Eternal, and look down upon us
with a florescent glow. Just as
the first, full burst of stars
become visible on the last trace
of a Summer sky, in the evening
of the final setting of the Sun.
At Dawn, they slowly fade and become
part of the opaque light of day.
They are behind the veil, once again.
Still bright and ever gleaming,
even when I can no longer see
their familiar shapes and forms
nor the radiance that the stars keep
in the daylight of their bright, Forever.
I wrote this just before President Reagan passed away.
But, somehow, it seems fitting for this event and for
the many loved ones that are there waiting to greet us.
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