The Child and The Drum

From behind the curtain

her voice

holds tremolo and vibrato,

high and clear,

sweet and lilting,

with a hint of poignant sadness.

The drum pushes, pulses

her ululations from underneath,

building the bridge

that connects

the world to the origin

of its song,

evolved,

forgotten, debated,

documented, erased,

burned, rescued,

savaged and salvaged,

but ever

created.

The child and the drum.

Two become one,

and the heartbeat

keeps the time of memory,

even now.

A Burst of Blue

Behind my eyes,

a dream of blue waters,

blue souls,

blue bubbles,

blue hearts,

and blue love

 

Ethereal,

mysterious,

the essence of floating spirits

and the color of transcendent skies.

 

It holds a

midnight sorrow

and an afternoon romp

in its hands.

 

It belongs to all,

but is special to us.

 

Unleashed, it holds me

enthralled.

Kissed of the Sun

She,

kissed of the sun,

birthed of the earth’s red clay,

stands a goddess in the green lush alcove

of branches that arch to protect her.

A sorceress that magic

willingly surrenders

its secrets to,

she only has to turn to me

to enchant me

with silent spells

of regal beauty.

She binds my mortal

heart to hand,

and bids me

love to worship her.

Surrender is all the sweeter then,

and for a time, I too, am kissed of the sun,

yet banished at moonrise

to dream once more

that a goddess

once loved

me.

 

*art by Charlie Bowater on pinterest.com