Land of the Sorceress Queen by Hugh Dysart — Creative Talents Unleashed

In another time, another place, with another name, another face Golden skies, emerald streams, Land of the Sorceress Queen When musical magic fills the air, sleeping quills wake inspiration A raven’s feather, draws and traces, fallen angels with Tarot card faces Camel tracks to Constantinople, when time was told in sand Wisemen […]

via Land of the Sorceress Queen by Hugh Dysart — Creative Talents Unleashed

Fight or Flight by Brenda-Lee Ranta — Creative Talents Unleashed

when everything was broken felt like lesions on your skin inside you felt so empty the time had worn too thin you were lonelier beside him that if you’d been apart there was nothing left to say that would recreate the start and you knew that is was over when you lived it day […]

via Fight or Flight by Brenda-Lee Ranta — Creative Talents Unleashed

I often wonder, as an observation,
if there is not a flaw, or an innate itching
in the human psyche that prevents us
from moving forward. Is it malaise, boredom or complacency that causes the world to become ugly, when things are going well? Why do we undo ourselves, every time; almost as though it is a global decision to annahilate everything that is good about us, merely for the sake of change, while blaming the other guy? We are the other guy.

If there is one message I could leave for my own children and grandchildren, it would be to be truly grateful when life is going well and never grind their own wheels when that itching comes. At all costs, look for the love and be grateful. I pray their world never looks like this again.

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Laced

Filigree dreams
dance on the edge of
creationism – idealism
Weaving in and out
of cambray garments,
that love beads defined
It quietly lives as a seed
waiting to proliferate
from the Polaroid photos
in a cigar box of optimism
and new ideologies
that never quite saw
the light of a new day
each time the box
slammed shut in defeat

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Copyright: Brenda-Lee Ranta 2019

Triad

Triad Verses
of Dedications

(1)

No more, my wounds
fester nor blister
I shall not let my tongue
return to abscesses;
be drawn to the scabs
In your red velvet nights,
I close my eyes
I want only to know the
scent of your skin,
the rhythm of your breaths,
the heartbeats living
beneath your breastbone

(2)

Where I made my bed
I have laid my head
Your voice shook me
from vulnerability,
Feet touching feet,
images mirrored in eyes;
even in disillusionment
we are assuaged by a
return to tenderness,
in knowledge
that there be no solitude
in our choices
we, the shadows

(3)

Pasts and futures fused
in presence – present
Lines blurred, seeping
into each other heads
Ink dries on our communal
papers, this sky writing
on ceiling-less skies
that fold back the bed sheets
of yesterday’s love,
tomorrows yearning
forever sated
we, the shadows
of each other.

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PAGES

Pages

We vacillate between our
optimism and regrets
turning the pages again;
some are great losses
some are great victories
We mourned, we rejoiced,
we heard our souls;
shaking us into silence
In all things there was
purpose,
In all things there was
a divination
We may curse it
or embrace it,
vacillating between
optimism and regrets
We turn the page
knowing that it was
a year of lessons,
which is the blessing

c.w Brenda-Lee Ranta