Sunday, March 25, 2012

Outside of the Lines - March 25, 2012

Image Discovered on

Outside of the Lines

Whispers from nowhere reach beneath light
cutting through the love
I feel for you,
playing inside of my thoughts.
I think of their sound,
how I feel them in the air I breathe
and when I sleep,
how they call from every mountaintop
I have ever sought.

I find I am defining their promises
every morning
in the hush of silence
and as I write I welcome them
into the rooms of me.
I lend them my fingertips
to search for the sunlight
of my feelings
until I hear the words
that rhyme
with we.

A reflection of the whispers can be tasted
when it drifts in
with the morning's expectations
as if it flew from a cage
of intimacy.
My air is filled with love
crying out to my heart
that this time it will not be broken
nor lie alone as I breathe.

Whispers from nowhere lead me into spaces
outside of the lines I write,
where I can feel
your embrace.
The strings of my heart
stand still to be strummed
into place
as the promise of your fingertips
searches for the sunlight
on my feelings' face.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Misconception Passes Forgotten - March 20, 2012

Misconception Passes Forgotten

Some days you hold a bed of roses as only a state of mind
Promises seem to be forgotten in drifting pieces
Wondering how absence thinks of ways to make fonder
A heart that watches time burning bridges  
With faith that never ceases

So often an eager crowd serves a master of lonely places
You can hear them whispering words of praise
They are swirling in a powerful roundabout of illusion
Spent in rooms where the only way out
Cannot be paraphrased

Some have chosen their scars as seed to plant in rows
Then wonder why their fields are full of pain
Aside from sorrow can you imagine what could dwell
As rows of beautiful flowers in the heart
Where love remains

We hear I am sorry in a moment that passes forgotten
On days when a bed of roses does not exist
Should we choose to serve a master of lonely places
Or plant seeds of forgiveness in our fields
From unclenched fists

© 2011 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Time Ached to Feel No More - March 15, 2012

Time Ached to Feel No More

They asked me to define how hours
could see lovers
calling out for water
when they turned life's wheel
of loveliness.
So, I drew an outline of burning fire
around the flower of miracles
growing in between a love
that knows no rest.

I showed them letters containing precious memories
as reminders of horizons
with rising answers
only considered by the sea.
Then, I became a still small voice
and one by one
showed them blank pages
now filled with moments
love had somehow
called out to be free.

Hours stirred two hearts
suspending them inside their own music
where they flew on wings of delight
in quiet ecstasy.
Until time ached to feel no more
and could only send in hours
to fill those blank pages
with the answers
to why lovers called out for water
to protect the love
that grows
between you and me.

Copyright ©2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Friday, March 9, 2012

A Heaven Born of Words - March 09, 2012

 Image Origin
A Heaven Born of Words

Winding roads envelop mornings
changing how I feel
as the sun rises
over half a million faces
all aglow.
The air bears the scent of flowers
like those I have seen
within blue flames of truth
on the horizon of nothing more
than how your presence
seeks my attention
like falling snow.

I feel my pulse expanding
and I grow weak
as my skin glows soft
like poems
that have kissed the roses
around my thorns,
and my soul keeps the best of you
in my hands.
My joy crashes
against sands pure as thoughts
of the wildest forest
embracing its own lands.

Your voice finds me
with an understanding
that springs into my mind
making the ground I walk on
become a heaven
born of words.
I smile secretly, as if I have begun
to read something
living inside a storm
rushing to be let in
and dancing on paper
to be heard.

Half a million faces
and all I see is yours,
telling me
I am the treasure you find
on those winding roads.
The air bears the scent of flowers
from fields
that continue to live
throughout the winter
warmed by blue flames of truth,
seeking my attention
like falling snow.

Copyright ©2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm