PSYCHE

Psyche

 

Through cosmic windows

in the unbounded expanse

in which all matter exists

or does not exist

 

Psyche traces

the orbital paths

of lovers

 Two lost souls

on parallel planes

who may never unite

 

Mirrored images

not yet conceived

 

Psyche draws

them into dreams

depicting Love's

concentric spheres

Subliminal messages

not yet perceived

by their conscious minds

 

Until - one day -

when purely by chance

their eyes should meet

                                                                         © Rose

No One Hears

No one Hears

 

everyone listens

but nobody hears

a cheek glistens

with silent tears

shouting won't make

a blind man see

crying won't ease

the misery

colours are fading

turning to grey

shadows are braiding

the last light of day

a monochrome halo

hangs in the sky

the scornful echo

of a seagulls cry

night keeps its vigil

so paint your dreams ~

amongst clouds dismal

a miracle gleams ~

night brings its silence

that deadens and deafens

night brings its own sentence 

........nobody listens.......

ⒸRose

The Wind And The Sea

The Wind And The Sea

Stained with the wilful moods

of the tempestuous sky

the concupiscent sea sings

to the wanton wind

waves arched into undulating

curves

heaving, cresting, caressing

soliciting the wind

tempting him

with her allure

desiring his

stimulating touch

to kindle, to ignite, to inflame

her arousal

until in union

their lusty

motion, emotion, elation

rises and falls

surges and swirls in an

ardent dance

erupting 

onto the shore

spilling over

long dark tresses

of seaweed

shadows

that lie glistening

in the moonlight

upon the pale naked sand

ⓒRose  

Good Night Sadness

Good Night Sadness

 

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling

I know it's every line

I know how the shadows fall

and wait for them 

to hide the sadness 

written there

before I close my eyes

I slip into a dream

bleak and bare as the ceiling

Even the moon is bare

and cold as stone

 

A watchful tree stands

rigid, silent, accusing

 

A violin begins

to keen piteously

 

A butterfly -  merely

a fragile shadow of itself

flutters, trapped

in an erratic flight

 

A rose weeps

a putrid bouquet

There are no shadows

here

Here there is no

 escape

from the sadness

written on

the ceiling

©Rose

 

This piece was inspired by Paul Eluard

'Adieu tristesse/ bonjour tristesse/ Tu es inscrite dans les

lignes du plafond'

Theatre of the Absurd (Repost)

Theatre of the Absurd

The head/face in this image is a photograph of a reflection that appeared on the wall. Don't ask me to explain it - I can't - but there has to be a logical explanation for it I just haven't found it yet. Anyways, it freaked me out so I paired it up with an image of the moon ( it looks as though it belongs there).

just a face
in the crowd
of a meaningless
universe
midst arcane
echoes
of abstruse
dialogues
and tired
cliches
just an
incongruous
character
in the theatre
of the absurd

©Rose

CONSERVATION (Repost - Sad Elephant)

Sad Elephant

I love elephants and this one below just looked so miserable I felt so bad for him. The elephants in general seemed to be really moody and unhappy - I came away from them feeling really sad :(

While our lives leach
through the porous
warp and weft
of alien foundations
Our native memories
grow pale and then fade
behind our downcast eyes
And like a straw
in the wind
imprudence sweeps
conservation
into the cracks
of extinction
whilst civilisation
looks on
© Rose

Neon Sunsets (repost)

Neon Sunsets

between neon sunsets
and concrete dawns
in a city that never sleeps
we are robbed of our dreams

on a bed of lies
and broken promises
we drift apart
weaving dreams
of another time
but it's all a lie

we drift apart
conceiving dreams
as time ticks over

our emotions
cocooned
in hostile womb
waiting
to be expelled
like afterbirth
and
like frail moths
they too will be drawn

to the lights, the pulse
of the city that never sleeps
dying to live, living to die
between concrete dawns
and neon sunsets
© Rose

It's Complicated

It's complicated

how I hate the phrose

'it's complicated'

a tactic used deliberately

to conceal the truth

Nature is simple

it reflects only

itself

©Rose