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Author: Sasha | [ Next Thread |
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] Date Posted: 19:46:02 11/18/07 Sun  Here ya go, me lovelies... dive into this picture...and when you resurface... write write WRITE!!!!! *grins* any form, any length....just share your interpretation of the image above I can't wait to read you all... *kiwi hugs* Sash xx  [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
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Author: Jess [ Edit | View ] |
Date Posted: 22:00:48 11/19/07 Mon White roses always remind me of the Marys. I chose the Magdalene, and it came in a villanelle, with thanks to both Jimmy Hendrix and the gnostic Gospel of Mary Magdalene, who provided the refrains. Mary He who has ears to hear, let him hear: Devils, he took from me seven and left again five. (And the wind whispers “Mary”.) A devil in my ears, now deaf, now listening hard for a trace of his timbre. Hearing, I thrive. He who has ears to hear, let him hear: Devil in my eyes: A glimpse catches my guard and my breath, and my heart-it dives. (And the wind cries “Mary“.) Devil in my fingers: A shred of his robe, a shard of his skin, a brush, a pulse-I’m alive. He who has ears to hear, let him hear: Devil in my mind: my faith is marred and forgotten. No saving, no repentance, no shrive. (And the wind screams Mary.) Devil in my soul-an alabaster jar, unguent, nard. A brush of his foot with my hair, softly, my lips. My being restored, revived. He who has ears to hear, let him hear. And the wind, it cries "Mary". [ Post a Reply to This Message ] |
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Author: Jess [ Edit | View ] |
Date Posted: 23:08:32 11/19/07 Mon Well, let me amend that, Mary of Bethany was supposed to be the one afflicted with the devils, but at one point she, and the prostitute-penitent and the disciple were all bundled into the Magdalene. .... Me and the church fathers, free with the poetic license. ;*) It occurs to me that someone might be offended by my earthy treatment of a spiritual figure, but that isn't my intention. Ciao, Jess [ Post a Reply to This Message ] |
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Author: Mick [ Edit | View ] |
Date Posted: 18:21:32 11/24/07 Sat Drama She wraps herself in a tattered blanket of dying flowers, beneath an ominous sky - exposed to the torturous fires of another contrived foe. Forever fetal. Comical and pathetic. Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps I right. I suspect I’m both. [ Post a Reply to This Message ] |
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Author: Sasha [ Edit | View ] |
Date Posted: 00:28:17 12/05/07 Wed a cocoon, of sorts cold, their tendrils creep, and climb twisted in form, and swollen with self, the trinity of poisoned petals, my screaming death ecstasy has no home, in still bones, from a distance, my words fall, a barrier to his burning dysfunction they rage for their release, finally, I can bleed . [ Post a Reply to This Message ] |