Climbing Mountains to Catch the Moon - Dec. 26, 2012

 

C.C. Charron 

 Climbing Mountains to Catch the Moon

Some try to convince themselves,
this is the rarest of sensations
as they walk along the edges of a place
where their name is whispered by a spring
that flows to love all. 
Still, we wonder
if it takes a truly perfect heart
beating softly
inside of a self-built cocoon
to be inspired,
hear the call. 

Does nightfall build the pressure felt
of those who fall
until they lower their expectations
find they are climbing mountains
hoping to catch
the silvery moon?
Is it not obvious that these hearts
will travel fearlessly
always bowing their heads
and closing their eyes,
in hope true love
will blossom soon.

I wonder if they have folded their hearts'
around an ache
no one is able to see.
Or if this is only the beginning
of recognizing myself
in their mirror. 
This rare sensation I feel
walking along the same edge
is merely erasing each step
fearlessly taken.
The silvery moon
has not....
grown any nearer.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Two-Same View, Same Beat-One - December 22, 2012

Adam Martinakis

Two-Same View, Same Beat-One

The fire of love clings to hidden winds

and flourishes as it turns

without thought

to envelop the music

of your imagination.

It then peeks at the silence

created by its own tug of war

whispering..........

come one, come all,

feel this sensation.

The fire of love removes all distance,
chants your name
until our bodies  blur space and time
and you and I find
we are viewing the world
through the same pair of eyes.
Between our hearts
we both know
desire feeds the flame,
listen to them beat,
the rhythm.........
is now
the same.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Numbed by "I Don't Care" - Dec. 13, 2012

Obrazek

Numbed by "I Don't Care"

My senses wonder how to find peace
among company not familiar
with the lightest touch.
Even though I have written down
everything of which I dream.
My words are not heralded
by the new age the same
because a pebble
means more to them
than a beautiful sunset's beams.

The youngest
seem to rise inside the walls
with no names,
disguised as sparkling diamonds
known as hope.
I must beware of their winds
as they can overwhelm
the very air I cradle and for which I fight.
Or, I may find my Heaven
has become absent
and that I have given up everything
I know to be right.

I could look straight through the glass
and hear the strangest voices ever
from my reality.
And, I would want to know
what lies at the bottom,
posing as flowers for my hair.
Still, I find there are wrinkles in my climate
painted on the panes of life,
numbed by “I don't care”.

If I tried to escape or perhaps fight
for what I believe,
would I be considered shallow?
Could I still feel   the appeal of peace
or would I want to cover my heart in sleep?
So, I watch the schemes
of those not familiar with the lightest touch
then watch them drink the wine
of what they reap.

Copyright @2012 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

The Sun Can Hear Thunder - Nov. 25, 2012

Image Link

 The Sun Can Hear Thunder

I have known that the sun can hear thunder
and how its brightness
can be unfathomable,
like my dreams.
Since the beginning of my pulse
I have been honored
with good days
that left me grateful
inside of the sweetness
never stifling.........
within all it means.

When midnight kisses the glass
that morning has already
tasted......
Like a thirsty spider
crying out........
for the rain.
All of my senses are
swept through
knowing, my words don't fall
on deaf ears......
or stand there,
all wasted.

No, you cannot know how I'm feeling
but that doesn't mean
our world's stopped spinning.
The sun.......
can still hear thunder
in all the ways you love me.
You lift me up
in the midst of a storm.
All my senses are swept through
my words stand in stillness
a storm's ending......
is love's beginning.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

You Never Knew Me - October 27, 2012

Niko Guido -- Photographer

You Never Knew Me

I truly thought
I had found myself
in a wondrous place
where you could truly see me,
and that all my words
were forever immortalized.
Held close.......
inside of your everything,
soft......as a breeze.

I laughed as you stared
into my eyes, asking my name.
With my heart in your hands
and the moonlight
at your beck and call.
Then......watching you walk away,
I smiled.......
even though I realized
you never knew me
at all.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

When Time Hands Me Leave to Love You -- October 18, 2012

 Marta Dahlig

When Time Hands Me Leave to Love You

Unfilled dreams visit me
and I pretend
thundering pain does not touch my soul
when I can't hear you say,
“I love you”
before I lay me down to sleep.
Still, I wonder
if I called out on the coldest night
would I hear nothing
but silence
inside the dreams
I keep.

In the morning hours
I write your name
in the air
with a hand of power,
creating an image
of  love's fire
that can never be lost
in thought.
A delightful understanding
becomes a sensation of living
with the eyes of my heart
wrapped around the words
I have sought.

My mind sings our story
even when I am alone.
It shouts
from an ocean
of heaven
with a tune swinging
to the countless beat
of our future need.
It paints our past
with long strokes of feeling
outside of  all the years
that were hidden
by a shadow's greed.

Here I stand as I am
with an invitation
circling my heart
creating a place
for you to be
when time hands me leave
to love you
with every breath
I breathe.
Although, I may not hear the words
from your lips
the eyes of my heart
hear you speak
with ears........
that see.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

When She Writes About the Rain - Oct. 01, 2012

Angels by Anna Zero1

When She Writes About the Rain

There is a massive distance
between her smile and tears
when she writes about the rain.
Because her faded dreams
put her mind at ease
behind the places
where she stands
in pain.

Sitting in the garden
where one finds love
in those eyes
that speak of alone.
She writes lines
which intrigue mysteriously.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
when dawn breaks
across the trees.

The inner deepness of her words
hold on to each cloud,
crying out to the depths
of our bones.
They tell us our worst hours
contain the time outside
of her faded dreams
and that they too.....
will soon be gone.

When she writes about the rain
we smile
behind the places
where we stood in pain.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
knowing......
they never speak
in vain.

© 2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm