Inspired by the grace and beauty of the flamingo, my life reflected by my love of reading, writing and creating. Tuesday, January 29, 2013. The secret is in the line. Rapid voices speak to me. Not taking the time to introduce who they are. May it be my poetic voice. Or alone from conversation overheard. Spilt out and reaching my language. Wishing to record them all.

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Dear readers of this blog,. thank you to all the ones who spread the beautiful light of poetry. and thanks to the ones who read my scribbles. Warmest wishes of love, health, inspiration and well-being to everyone.

Sunday, 8 January 2017. Indisposed in her sketchbook, tracing the tentacled yew tree. 8220;What of the Undermoon? .

And so still I wait. Waiting for you to notice. In my heart for you.

Is raining in my mind. Drops of sharpened alphabets fall. Clouds of black, blank promises fly. But before the emotional monsoon starts. To bloom inside my heart. I take 3 deep blows of breath. In the middle of the gallery. The floor, a purple mosaic. Instrumental Metallica in the air. With the scent of Love. I slowly lift my head.

That flower of dusk,. That fruit of dawn,. Wrapping his star to bone. Unwrapping her bones as stars.

Of a soft, fragrant. Mdash; Leave a comment. And moments of passion,. Space as I read an. Of a linear, temporal path. To ash, each word burns.

I can hear a familiar tongue. In words escaping your mind. A distant memory of child dreams. Left forgotten in sand castles. I was then foolish and young. Always looking for the extremes. The castles I wish I could find. When my life became a hassle. And I live now day by day. I will return to that place. In ashes within her hand. And with the water embrace. My castles left on the sand. Of who I was, a clone.