P.S.
Love to hear from you.
Write me.
links
+/-
a print a day
acceso restrito
alonetone
anne: j'adore
astronomy picture of the day
audrey kawasaki found
beautiful and depraved
beautiful pictures
beautiful things
cultural creatives ?
daydream lily
dear ada
déModé
feanne: art, love, life & the senses
from betsy with love
girl meets nyc
laureola
le smoking
leelyth
loveology
mewl
my love for you is a stampede of horses
sex in art
space collective
tatielle
ted ideas worth spreading
the artist's way
Some girls like bad boys.
Dark pasts, dubious motives.
Devil-may-care.
I’m not one of those girls.
I have a thing for good boys.
Trusting, worshipping, devoting.
Kiss one, wake the wolf inside.
My wolf: the world will never know you.
Myself: the dame who tamed the beast.
Quatrain 7 by *Himmapaan on deviantART
Come fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentence fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly - and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.Quatrain VII of the Rubaiyat
The Woman, The Water, & The Stars
I drink starlight
And dance in moon river
My eyes deep as the dawn
My heart light as a feather
Water warms my limbs
Silvers my skin
Touches my lips
Kisses my hips
Wet fingertips
Trace stars in the night
Writing poetry
On the sky
I bloom in the shadows
And dance in the fire
I believe in the wind,
In the earth, in delight
I drink starlight
And dance in moon river
My hands bright as a song
My heart light as a feather
From Our Dreams Stood In Silence by Danny Sillada.
Listen to my poetry reading here. :)
A silk scarf around your wrists,
I pull and wrap and tie and twist.
A delicate shimmering of thin strands,
A tight knot to bind your hands.
A cat’s tongue against your neck,
Sleek, pink, velvet wet.
Hungry hands slide down your hips,
Hungry eyes and hungry lips.
Hot skin and soft bites:
Our beautiful, ravenous appetites.
Erotic poetry by
violetvoice.tumblr.com
January 6, 2010
In the spaces between the notes
you can hear the breath of her name
A song of mourning
A song of memory
A song of celebration
Fingers trail in arpeggios
up and down the keys
Playing in the spaces between the notes
with the breath of her name.I’ve always loved the art work of Stephanie Pui-Mun Law
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
♥
Sonnet Macabre
by Theodore Wratislaw
I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;
Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.
I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:
I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.
La Mélinite: Moulin-Rouge
Arthur Symons, 1895
Olivier Metra’s Waltz of Roses
Sheds in a rhythmic shower
The very petals of the flower;
And all is roses,
The rouge of petals in a shower.
Down the long hall the dance returning
Rounds the full circle, rounds
The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
The rose returning
Into the circle of its rounds.
Alone, apart, one dancer watches
Her mirrored, morbid grace;
Before the mirror, face to face,
Alone she watched
her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.
Before the mirror’s dance of shadows
She dances in a dream,
And she and they together seem
A dance of shadows,
Alike the shadows of a dream.
The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
Between the robes that turn;
In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
The lights are trembling:
The shadows and the dancers turn.
And, enigmatically smiling,
In the mysterious night,
She dances for her own delight,
A shadow smiling
Back to a shadow in the night.
