Just M...

My words...

Please no group tags*

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

I am the whisper
of the wind
time without end
hands that reach
to comfort & caress
I am the voice
who stills the ache
I am the passion released

soft warming
the love that you seek

hold to your dreams
look to the stars
find me
I am the whisper
~of the wind...

#poem

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

Where there is meaning
Where there is pulse
A #primitive force of nature
Carved from flesh & blood

In the makeup of all
The bone & the marrow
Etched out in centuries
The future is ours

Part soul part machine
A welding together
Time has ordained
Let none be afraid

#vss365

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

@LoveHealthEd 🙏❤️

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

The sunflowers speak a language of their own, heads raised high reaching for the heavens

What peace within this place
of oneness, yet never alone
To feel the warmth of kindred souls

How #wondrous to behold
For each & everyone of us
Tranquility a shelter from the cold

#vss365

[Jacob @MystiqueStrokes]

From the dappled holds
of a petal-peach sky

veiled in wet velvet light,
like tambourine trills,

hymns of spring rain
as it thrums soft.

'Neath its dulcet paeans
puddles ripple,

like blooms of emerald
in spectral blush

holding fragments of sky
and the ache of broken rainbows.

[Jacob @MystiqueStrokes]

Beneath sky’s lilac field
of paling gold,

distant wingbeats,

fleeting streaks
of silk and umber—

wild geese homeward
across heavens
toward their wetland roosts—

coral strains,
a slow cello of twilight
unravel.

As they vanish,
dusk turns empty—

lingering trails of carnelian.

[Jacob @MystiqueStrokes]

Sunrise kindles skyline,
the horizon ambered
in oriflamme.

Forlorn,
stands a desolate abbey—

a requiem,
its lone echoes lingering.

O’er its cold cobbles,

dawning spring
unravels in spectral charm—

the abbey stirs to
silver morning chimes.

And the ruins—
afire in carnelian.

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

@jenn_shallx Thank you Jenny xx

[Just M... @Mjustthat]

Hold my heart & i shall hold yours
Let us fly on the crest of the wind
For love is all

Dance with me until day is dust
Until time forgets our worth
The sky the sun, the moon the dark

Until the ocean sings our final song
Breath of my breath
I am yours you are mine

#ourpoetryX

[Jenny Sutton @jenn_shallx]

Shift of speech begins the fray,
coldness pushing warmth away,
rejection grows,
frustration flows, complacency sets, setting regrets, compassion strays, shadows enfold over empty days, tethers fray,
resentment unfolds as the silences stretch,
bitterness weary hearts fetch,
love erodes from sight, swallowed by the encroaching night,
once anchored now unmoored to drift,
a final shift to permanent rift.
JennS©️
#vss365
#rift

[Neil G - Poet @Banquozghost]

Beyond the rift of time and death,
still the ancient voices speak
in velvet dark, in moonlight breath.
O listen as the raven sings
of forest deep and mountain peak,
the songs of old still rise aloft
on raven wings.

#vss365 #rift

art: Raven’s Embrace - Wallpaper

[Neil G - Poet @Banquozghost]

Twist and claw of limb

Dragons skewed among the stones

Ancient ones still live

#haiku

Photo:
The Wakehurst Yews by Beth Moon

[Neil G - Poet @Banquozghost]

Immersion in the corridors of sleep,
I travelled far beyond my castle keep
To a place where war, so long forgot,
Those who dwelt there knew it not.
Here I am, this very day.
Here I shall forever stay.

#vss365 #immerse

art: Xanadu
by Alexander Lawrence

[Neil G - Poet @Banquozghost]

No signal to send me forth
the chuff and shunt of me
faded into nothing
but tangled weed and branch

What use the power and steel
once fit for purpose

Endless days
I wait only
upon the stations of the Sun

No work for this iron horse
my days are done

#vss365 #signal

[🎼 𝕸𝕬𝕽𝕂 🎼 @2112Westy]

Long ago, Crow was famous for his sagacity. He sat on old branches pondering serious things such as moonlight, destiny, and whether worms had ambitions.

Animals travelled for miles to hear him speak.

“Crow,” said Badger one day, “what is the meaning of life?”
Crow closed his eyes.
“Hmm,” he said gravely. “Life is a river flowing through ~”

But before he could finish, a squirrel ran past wearing a tiny waistcoat made of moss.
Crow stopped.
“...where did he get that?”
The waistcoat fascinated him.

Soon he noticed other things: foxes had glossy tails, swans had elegant necks, hedgehogs had surprisingly committed little faces.

He began asking important questions.
“Does this feather arrangement make me look windswept?”
“Are my claws too severe?”
“Be honest, Am I being mysterious, or just tired?”

Exasperated, Badger left.

Crow bought puddles to use as mirrors. He spent entire afternoons turning his head side to side and saying, “Interesting.”

Eventually Badger returned.
“Crow,” he said, “WHAT is the meaning of life?”
Crow stared into a puddle.
Without looking up he said, “Depth is important, obviously... but have you seen my profile from this angle?”

And from that day onward, Crow became a collector of shiny things, because once you've started admiring surfaces, it's very difficult to stop.

[🎼 𝕸𝕬𝕽𝕂 🎼 @2112Westy]

#folkloresunday
The Holbeach Gamesters is a grim 17th century Lincolnshire legend which tells of three drunken men who, after boasting about a recently buried companion, dug up his body and carried it to the church for one last game of cards. Propping the corpse up beside them, they dealt a hand at midnight ~ but before the game ended, something changed. Some tales say the dead man stirred and revealed a monstrous face. Others say Satan himself arrived. Before dawn, dark figures rose from beneath the church floor and dragged the gamblers away forever.

[🎼 𝕸𝕬𝕽𝕂 🎼 @2112Westy]

#mythologymonday
It was recorded in Aztec myth that Huitzilopochtli, god of the sun and war, did not rise peacefully into the heavens ~
Born fully armed, he emerged in battle carrying Xiuhcoatl, the Fire Serpent, driving back the forces gathered against him ~
for the journey of the sun was not seen as gentle or certain ~
but as a struggle fought anew with every dawn.

[🎼 𝕸𝕬𝕽𝕂 🎼 @2112Westy]

It’s 3 a.m.
and my mind has become
an unpaid shift worker ~

flicking endlessly
through a thousand channels
of absolute rubbish.

It’s too hot to sleep.
The thunder wakes me.
So does a dog barking
roughly eight miles away.

Meanwhile,
my brain has decided
this is the perfect time ~

to host a full retrospective
of every humiliating thing
I’ve done since 1982 ~
with full director’s commentary.

At some point,
without anyone consulting me,
I appear to have become
entirely nocturnal ~

wide awake

fully philosophical by 3 a.m.,

and somehow treating
The sound of birds at dawn ~
As a personal insult.

[Daniel Cummings @DanielC55186873]

he finds himself
in her mind
but she is gone

her shadows mock him
and he realizes
that she was the silence
that he craved

and faded paintings of her
reach out to him
but he is unable to bridge
that #crevasse

the spinning dancer
takes her cue
and leaves a rose

#vss365 #rerun

[B. @Words_by_B]

I woke before
the daisies opened
a peely-wally sun hung
just above the flower bed

a greenfinch trilled
in the magnolia tree
& the waking breeze exhaled

rhododendron petals fell
& then
the rain came down
a godsend

#gravity pulling each droplet
to parched earth

#vss365

[B. @Words_by_B]

Bee in blossom. 🐝🌸

[What About U ? @petershoneye]

#vss365 #Wondrous
🦋 Quiet Wondrous ©️

He writes…

perhaps the most
wondrous things

are not untouched—

but the hearts

that broke
and still remembered
how to open

the hands

that trembled
and still reached

the souls

that carried winter
without forgetting
the language
of spring

because sometimes

the miracle is not
that we survived—

but that tenderness
survived with us. 🖋️

—©️🖋️ AshThorne, The Black Poet™ / Peter Shoneye

#QuietSeries
where the quiet still blooms

[What About U ? @petershoneye]

🦋 Quiet Yet Still 🎼