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Poetry – Peace, Love and Patchouli

We paint our stories
as images and words linger,
still frames on the edge of memory
decorating our soul with sweet beauty.
We find in foreign places
unexpected pleasures seen
of a day now given eternal life
beneath a noon day sun,
colored walls where strangers move
captured in their unknowing
and transfered,
lay waiting for the sands of time to wear away
the picture seen by few
yet remembered by one
on a wall reflected by the sea,
step by step we stopped to stare
at a serenity of a girl found there.

At a tiki bar/restaurant yesterday I walked down some steps near where the boats go to gas up and found some beautiful images painted on the concrete. This is one of them.

Source: Simple pieces

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Poetry – Skipping Manuals — Ricardo Sexton

A young lady found herself lost in the woods So beautiful, beautiful and naked by the creek There she sensed a hunter of coulds + woulds A young man who didn’t come for hide&seek. Wild beasts. No guess, just a yes Both nervous and after a distress Offering a dive to proffer a revive Coughing […]

via Skipping Manuals — Ricardo Sexton

POETRY, POETRY, POETRY — Ricardo Sexton

Poetry enthralled many to no wander A river at sea can no longer meander Feelings are cut by thoughts in action Shoot and Cascade. A surging passion Poetry has inspired to every outtake The reason for a sunrise is to awake To brighten and fill the soul with zest Indulgence to inscribe poems at best […]

via POETRY, POETRY, POETRY — Ricardo Sexton

 

 

 

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Poetry – Sleepless She — Ricardo Sexton

Come to see… ‘how things are today’ This dark sky used to be a sunny day The hand-lines go from north to south Waste that water to deny this drought Sleepless tonight, caught in headlights Diet the stress; while lost to the frights Can you see the tears? – Or the fears? Nothing is clear… […]

via SLEEPLESS SHE — Ricardo Sexton

 

 

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Frida Kahlo Writes a Personal Letter to Georgia O’Keeffe After O’Keeffe’s Nervous Breakdown (1933) – Colin Marshall

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Important twentieth-century painters, as every student of art history learns, didn’t tend to sail smoothly through existence. Those even a little interested in famed Mexican self-portraitist Frida Kahlo have heard much about the travails both romantic and physical she endured in her short life. But in this lesser-known instance, another artist suffered, and Kahlo offered the solace.Available to view from Yale’s Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, we have here a letter Kahlo sent to Georgia O’Keeffe, painter of blossoms and southwest American landscapes…….

Read more: http://www.openculture.com/2013/09/frida-kahlo-writes-a-personal-letter-to-georgia-okeeffe.html

 

 

 

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Poetry – Flightless Wings. — Ricardo Sexton

A told: A bird is coming down Where is it? the swan’s glisten “It’s everywhere, look around” Enough stares trying to listen If nobody hear it won’t matter It sings to me a twitting latter A bit more fetching to find life An armed city defiles exist rife The bird attempt to flee a war […]

via Flightless Wings. — Ricardo Sexton

 

 

Your kindly Donations would be so effective in order to fulfill our future research and endeavors – Thank you
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Poetry With Summer Purpled Awe – Robert Okaji

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No one wants to be forgotten
or remembered for the wrong reasons,
but how do we attain that sweet spot
between regrettable and a barred
door clanking shut? I was born in
Louisiana. What happened next
is that song living at the edge of
memory, just beyond grasp, its
lyrics gnarled and tangled in the
roots of an old cypress along a
muddy creek. Yeah, that one. I
won’t sing it in this lifetime.
That tune’s never coming back.

2

You stretch out your hands
and a reflection cuts you in half.

3

I should have grabbed you and the dog,
and headed to Texas. They’ve got hills
there that the tide won’t reach, and
trees that won’t die from salt
poisoning, whose branches
won’t be festooned with children’s
clothing and bits of people’s torn
lives, and the stench won’t linger
longer than regret and the effect
of poor choice and dumb luck.

4

There, then gone. I scream
until my voice rasps away
but you are still out there,
still floating, still afraid
and angry and beautiful, hair
forming a halo around your
face, no tears, no sound
but water lapping, and
the flies zeroing in.

5

Next time there will be no party.
I’ll wait alone to greet the rain.
The wind will scour me
as I embrace what comes.

Literature Of Love – A New Way My Delusions

Things hurt now, in a new way, the likes of which I’ve never experienced. I go out night-walking with headphones, careful to avoid the train tracks, and sometimes I try to decipher what this pain is. I want to understand it, and to be able to explain it. The closest I can come is that […]

via a new way — my delusions

8th blog promotion on “POETRY PASSION”

https://penandinksketches.wordpress.com HI FRIENDS! I’m Nitesh and I like to believe that creativity is in my blood. Sketches By Nitesh was my attempt at organizing the clutter of thoughts that always brew a storm in my mind. my blog is about pen and ink sketches, proses, poetry and life musings. Poetry holds a special place…

via 8th blog promotion on “POETRY PASSION”: “SKETCHES BY NITESH” FROM NITESH MISHRA — POETRY PASSION

If — Fighting for a Future

“If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being […]

via If — Fighting for a Future

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