Oh little pup my sweet little pup how is it that you're so old yet I am so young. It seems like yesterday that you were just a pup so full of vigor that I found it hard to keep up. But now you're old and slow but don't you fret for I still love you so.
Water speaks If you stop and listen If you stop and wonder If you stop and stare Water speaks In the deep green valleys In the roaring fjords Over mountains bare Rivers murmur And the lakes sing soft And the mountain ponds Hum like broken glass And every ocean Has its special rhythm Has its harmonies Played in scales and salt The land-bound sea Sounds like twinkling bells It's a rainbow music It's a gemstone song Out in the Atlantic Every rock and cliff-face Every toothsome beach Sound a mournful gong And in the Pacific Sea of peace and plenty Waters teal, cyan With that salt-kick spice The glaciers clamor In a cleaving frenzy Humpbacks chatter And the seals bark bright Every ocean Has its sound and silence Has its colors loud Its orchestral depths I've seen every ocean Wild in all their glory And when I end Grant me a sea-borne death.
I run. I was born in the dawn, Pale child of the sun, Like my father before me Holding ash in my lungs, Like my mother, my sister, And their pyroclast veins, Until I tasted the ocean And the salt sang my name. So I ran. I ran to the north, To the emerald fields, To the bogs and the heather Of a land wounded deep, Where the streams are elegies, Where the mountains lament Their sons and their daughters Lives heedlessly spent. I heard songs on the marshes, So sweet that I drowned Under rains that fell endless And soaked through the ground. But the words were not mine, And I could not speak Their odes to the heartless Their requiem of peat. So I ran. To the north, to the north, To the cold, to the dark, Where longitude ends, Where maps have no mark. A roar in the oceans, A whisper in the woods. There is something here Just barely understood. In the clawing peaks, Across ravenous ice, In the furious rivers, In the cinderglow night, There is something waiting At the edges of sight And
We stand around the fire by Drakard-14, literature
Literature
We stand around the fire
Night has fallen black as ink as we stand around the fire. Stars have frozen shadows slink unheeded through the mire. Woodsmoke, embers, sulphur, ash, they seep through every fibre. I'll keep my clothes pristine, unwashed, to feel the wild for longer. Of you, of them, my foes, my friends, I can see no faces. Eyes glinting coals, skin hot, breath cold, snow trapped in all our creases. Your hand open reaching out, and I reach out to find you. But when we touch I feel the winter, ancient ice inside you. Far from home and far from love we stand around the fire. Cold earth below, black sky above our endless, silent pyre.
Snow Globe Falling (after Saeed Jones) by SaffronSunrise, literature
Literature
Snow Globe Falling (after Saeed Jones)
I've covered my bare feet with powdered snow, let white flakes litter my hair without melting into watery residue. I've sprinkled my heavy eyelids with tinsel garland. I see golden specks snaking through plasticized conifer trees. I see silvery tin foil shards clinging onto empty window panes. I am everything that truly grieves in this paltry gleaming wonderland. Stare at the pile of glitter that once fluttered around me; I'll guide you to make it prance among the glycerin skyline. Enlace your weary fingers upon my globular sky dome, and I’ll beckon its hanging air bubbles to waltz towards you. Show me the permanent beauty of your porcelain tile floors, how their bright flowers feel sorry for my wintery milieu, how their dark vines lie languidly beneath my fallen orb. Miniature lamp posts slide down your unfurled hands— like cracked glass gently landing onto hand-painted leaves, like trapped water slowly sinking under newly glazed blooms.
A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines (after Lansing) by SaffronSunrise, literature
Literature
A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines (after Lansing)
Lover of glimmering sunlight and blazing heat, your eyes of ephemerally gilted afternoons target, trickle, lacquer my chilly nights with fallen gold so I drizzle your lingering warmth upon my lonely moon. Emblazon me here: floating way over these flimsy tinsel stars, feebly clinging onto buttercream wallpaper. Their soft lights flicker daintily through dangling paper unicorns, keep dimming in awe at our aureate reunion: a glimmering backdrop for awakening songbirds, starkly silhouetted by my pasty moonglow. Inky wings flutter towards your nascent daybreak, molten wispy feathers beneath my pallid orb. Birdsongs shriek eagerly as I melt into you—above tacky starlight gleaming in latched-up window panes.
Field Guide (after Tony Hoagland) by SaffronSunrise, literature
Literature
Field Guide (after Tony Hoagland)
Sometimes I hear the skyline cling onto verdant foliage, its raindrops gingerly pelting the leafy cuticles, once shiny with peace: without glistening orbs stilling— then slipping down stainlessly—along serrated green edges, shivering beneath the sky's crestfallen residue. I only wish for these paltry teardrops—now trickling down my cheekbones and blotting out my words— to fall smearlessly upon this page and be easily heard, like water globules landing on waxy-sheened leafage.
Night Questions (after Sumita Chakraborty) by SaffronSunrise, literature
Literature
Night Questions (after Sumita Chakraborty)
When does nightfall collect your tears? When starlight scatters across well-worn skies. When does morning hold on to the fleeting night? When bright stars melt under heavy moonlight, forming softly twinkling dew. Who does the moon turn to when she yearns to cry? The ocean — who catches fallen starlight from the moon’s glistening hide. How will you remember these crestfallen nights?
color of cold night: starlings hanging on empty backdrops wither over time, ticking away inky lullabies into daybreak's soft cries -- trills of sunlight melting cool ebony plumage, dripping beneath weary bluebell skies gently blown away by heavy winds -- hardening wintry black wings, fluttering on empty backdrops in tender reprise
sunsets sticky on dark green foliage by SaffronSunrise, literature
Literature
sunsets sticky on dark green foliage
golden moonlight dripping into nightfall like melted honey, bring me the residue of sunsets sticky on dark green foliage after indigo - seeping through soft peachy skies - dries cloyingly sweet on verdant backdrops, its tangerine streaks trickling into blackberry hues - spilling onto once-gilded leaves, treacly with dreams of soft warmth thickening through this fickle nightscape.