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themindssky.wordpress.com

________The mind's sky________ Der Himmel des Geistes | Wandering in writing’s woods and wading through words, wit and whimsy. Weathering the winds, wars and wounds; wearied, wrinkled and wondering why's wiser. © Quirina Roode-Gutzmer 2009-2012 |

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The mind's sky Der Himmel des Geistes. Newer posts →. June 19, 2012. Photo credit: Stock photo from http:/ www.123rf.com. 8220;The snow blower” is a short story that I wrote and submitted to the Ploughshares Emerging Writer’s Contest 2012. If you are not a member of Fictionaut, please be so kind as to leave your comment here (below this blog post). I would appreciate any feedback from the bottom of my heart. June 9, 2012. Photo: With kind permission from Rod Baxter 2010. COLOURBLINDKID on Flickr. Von Joh...

dianaswords.blogspot.com

Diana's Words: Ma Bell

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/01/ma-bell.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. Her refusal to speak. But when she sings,. Oh, when she sings. I reach for her. 01 February, 2013. What a seductively beautiful female prompt and follow on piece. 01 February, 2013. Thank you nene :-). 02 February, 2013. Attractive portrait, from a mans point of view, but the poem is stunning, Diana! It brings out another interpretation of the picture, beautifully. I can hear that beautiful voice now. singing like a siren. 02 February, 2013. 02 February, 2013.

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Diana's Words: Interim

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/07/interim.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. To my own devices,. And i found myself. To the hard insistence. Of cool rough planes. To grasp every surface inch. Of raw hibernal pleasure. You've been storing up. Until i wanted you. In my fevered dreams. 08 July, 2013. Maam, there is plenty to love in this poem, but let your lines run on sometimes. There is nothing modern about short lines and sometimes the heart wants to follow the words further, so let the lines breathe with the rhythm of breath. Pastiche ...

dianaswords.blogspot.com

Diana's Words: Palm on Palm

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/07/palm-on-palm.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. We walked up that hill. Before morning devoured the brume. The remains of the night wetting your lips. Curling the ends of each strand of my hair. In air pink with the shy light of dawn just peeking. Peeking over the thicket. As our clothes fell to the ground with the weight. Of oak-stained rain dwindling to delicate teardrops. Shed in the dark sweet hours. When we walked up that hill. 09 December, 2013. I would cut a line or two, Maam, but this is a delight x.

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Diana's Words: Sampling a Surrender

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/06/sampling-surrender.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. Photograph / Diana Matisz. As an ivory blade. I ran my tongue. Along my lower lip. In strands of pearl. I ran my tongue. Along my lower lip. 05 June, 2013. I now want to go back to bed and restart the day. Such lovely images your words paint : ). 05 June, 2013. Thank you Starshine. I couldnt sleep and so began playing with this photograph, which then birthed the words. 10 June, 2013. Spectacular photo and the verse is sublime, Diana! 10 June, 2013. 01 July, 2013.

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Diana's Words: Birthing

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/02/birthing.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. I stand on the precipice. Of this dark wing dream. Fingers clenching tidal mud. To stuff in a mouth, agape. Of untapped love, seeping. Vaporizing into air gravid. With fat sodden tears. Of a dying winter. And as i lay panting,. Drifts, ghostly,. Up, up through. Of trees in labor. Beneath blue heron wings. This sacrifice, disappearing. In the whispering static. Of wings and watershed moments. 06 March, 2013. 06 March, 2013. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

dianaswords.blogspot.com

Diana's Words: Fools in the Rain

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/07/fools-in-rain.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. Fools in the Rain. We stood in the rain laughing like fools. My hands grasped the rough wet edge of your collar. Smelling of warm cotton and summer. Your hands pressed against the small of my back. Finding the shallow your lips had unearthed that morning. There was no light to discover us, no dark. To lure us down the rabbit hole, there was only. Two fools in the rain daring the world to see us. Hoping it wouldn't glance our way. To nothing and everything.

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Diana's Words: Cry Baby

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/02/cry-baby.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. 02 February, 2013. I understood the last stanza - I guess I have a lot to learn, Im trying, but the question is do I want to - its to hard to figure out. 02 February, 2013. I see crying as a cathartic release, no matter the reason. Nothing too complicated. thanks for visiting :). 02 February, 2013. There is much to cry for in this world. Many things have a good start only to end in sorrow. Nice, Diana. 03 February, 2013. Diana, please, dont cry! 30 April, 2013.

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Diana's Words: I Wonder

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/02/i-wonder.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. I thought about her today. Where she'd gone,. Of an ancestral spring. On a two-tree hill. I remembered that day. And the ease with which. Once they could cajole. Her into actually looking. Clasping her own hands. As proof of her comfort. In her exotic singularity. I recall she was a dreamer. Lost in worlds of knights. She hadn't a care. In the world that day. There wasn't much of a past. To remember and the lumbering. Weight of her future had yet. And hide away,.

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Diana's Words: The Music of a Captive Heart

http://dianaswords.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-music-of-captive-heart.html

Come and find me where the wild roses grow. The Music of a Captive Heart. Can you hear it? How can you possibly. Can't shut it out. Nor turn it off. Over rivers of tears. Be still, listen. The soft staccato drum. Of a woman's footsteps. In circles, searching. Stop talking, listen. To the a cappella rustle. Of owls in pines. Of tidal estuaries,. Hold your breath, listen. To broken chord murmurs. Of a beloved voice. Reaching for the highest. If all else fails. Stay there, listen. Can you hear it. Simple te...