A taste of some summer

Stretched high
that unspeckled summer sky
in periwinkle blue, not new this
sea turtles neck nudges out in
summer sweater suits for bathing
out of doors,
forever and a day
to summers naked sway.

Coastline coconut and stewing seaweed;
this nereocystis inundates and permeates
in the roast of the midday sun and sea
crabs sidle along the tropic of Cancer.

In peach fuzz glee, the caterpillars
leglessly free and by happily hatched
plans, musts still wet
behind their neon wings.

Exuding beads of crystal saline
skin that shines, bronze and blonde
lemonade hair behind slathered screens
glistening with gold plates.

Every body mingles in the lazy
couldn't care air that is now
carrying charcoal, a rite sign of
summery incense and cannibal ecstasy.
Lust served raw and seasoned,
to whet craving appetites
savory a la summer mode.

Aflame we sear 

in ember days

while Venus blinks
the blues away.




Painting By Niels Frederik Schiøttz-Jensen,  (1855–1941) [Public domain], c. 1913via Wikimedia Commons.

Extremes

The sun peaks over
still with heavy lids.
On the other side,
the moon is full
of light-ness;
all the while,
Venus winks
at her valiant exposure
in longing along the same
celestial sphere,
wanting the words
to sync in solstice.



Photo credit: me (taken 6/20/16)

What goes up?

In response: it is unpredictable
Whose to say-
They know-
As though tempted to laugh aloud
in the face of morose climes, and
inhale all, indiscriminately.
Felt a scream well up,
savored its aftertaste like a wave
wash over.
Neutralized and
thought long about taking a trip
anywhere away without aim
now
the timing is never right.

What's wrong?
They say that's not like you-
And it is positively not attractive-
you couldn't agree more.
As a tiny and compliant
particle of the whole
that changes matters,
reactively
by the slightest exposure
to radiant negative energy
and bursts into nothing again.
You'll see,
it always works out in the end.







Image credit via Wikipedia, postcard series, The Dream of Flight.

Morning brew

The curtains tickle cool and
I get the impression crisply,
while I can, spots all separate,
the symphony tunes each section,
from deep purple set on dusty rose
to ashen greys settled on lazy lilac
unfolding the old periwinkle sheet
low-lit and pink pill speckled
as though white was never needed
in dawn's steeping sky
tweaking the tune of day
in the background.




Painting By Unknown artist – Artist [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Representation

Only artists know
the sky is never painted
wrong, everything goes.





Painting Sky StudyBy Unknown artist – Artist [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

All (of us) men

All men equally;
She is just a he
that is many more than one.







Painting by By Gretchen Woodman Rogers, 1915 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Damsel in distress

When the guards eventually abandoned their posts
this is when, creeping out of overflow,
the words gush forth in a rip current-
coalescing in magnetic links-
weaving white sheets with
brown knots, by her dirty hands;
the escape plan finally hatches
and she knew she would now
let it all out.
Deliberated and free
to mouth the lyrics
all wrong.
She sings them
hums them along
in sweet harmony with self,
knowing all the words
had been mis-taken.






Image of painting by Evelyn De Morgan, Hope in a Prison of Despair (1887) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.