Not The Rockefellers

Potatoes photo by Agustin Berrocal  this fire a cradle under a waning moon for rockets  pulled from the earth and kissed Midas gold by smitten Gods, peasants and spangled stars this fire ritual fuel for launching cowboy sunrise revolutions Rene ~ July 2013

bed headed dandelion sunshine freckles spill out from  hole-in-the-bucket  cereal bowl daydreams tripping on shoelaces  winding gloriously green eyed  and untied jungle vines tangled up and tugging fists full  of nobody's home  knock knock jokes giggled  to a  monkey playing matchbook  love songs on a tinker toy  piano close your eyes and sing along unbelievably  off key    into the stracciatella  cirrus sky let it go kick out all the tent pegs and let it flow  Rene ~ 2013

Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall  you are the morning sun on my neck and the moon over my shoulder am i the maddest hot magician of your rogue imagination you are my true astrological high and the puller of my tides i ride the waves of your affection balancing physics and nature you are an unfinished blood sonnet a night song a prophet of rhyme i run without stopping to breathe in catching you as you turn away you remind me with the truest eye such great love is not a given i stand tall in the force of your truth kiss your head and leave you to go Rene ~ March 10, 2013 For Magpie Tales , 100 Word Song and d'Verse Poets The 100 Word Song prompt is "Better Dig Two" by The Band Perry and is my d'Verse Poetics: InterActions song choice

Image: ( via Magpie Tales ) TheFoxandRaven     what i made of her: a pouty lipped wringing wet pre-coital national velvet era box top version of liz taylor i left behind in the attic with her narcoleptic libido and her a&p bags  full of half finished coming of age dime store beach trash she a dark secret, a red sash heart murmur, a wicked invention of an adolescent  ouija board imagination she now screams blue,  dripping wet and seething  down my dream halls how DARE I leave! how FUCKED UP to remember! pillow flipping off her midnight power surge i drown her out  in buckets of tidal sweat good lord, girlie go the hell to sleep go to hell to sleep Rene ~ 2013

the way you stir your coffee makes the blood rush from my head the come hither twirl of that fortunate spoon and I'm bringing breakfast to your bed red lipstick caffeine kisses your heart jumps, so quick the hit my kingdom resides on the rim of your world and I'm waiting captive to your sip Rene ~ February 10, 2013   For Magpie Tales Image by Joseph Lorusso

"November Lace" ~ Photo by Rene marble notebook in hand she slipped away  from the fray unnoticed up to her childhood room through the bedroom window and onto the rooftop poetic: " she sat  arms hugging knees surveying life, the leafless trees spindly branches claw the sky scratching for sun, to heaven they cry psalms of wisdom, strength and grace woven in November lace"   the air felt good against her flushed cheeks a beautiful sunset was now in progress she was thankful for this she was thankful for finding her peace she belonged right here, right now to this moment Excerpted from "November Lace" by Rene Rene ~ February 9, 2013 For d'Verse Poetics: The Anecdote

eclosion interrupted cautious chrysalis stalled immaculate tentative toes tickle the water for temperature silken stagnation swaddled east to west south from north no midnight love no velvet flight no sip of nectar frozen local overwinter migratory dreams pump their wings nightly a world an inch away too soon now too late much later Rene ~ January 13, 2013 Image via Magpie Tales

Image ( via Magpie Tales ) by Daniel Murtagh to watch her slip into the silken night  longing diaphanous to boldly witness such radiant vulnerability without a claim to keep her pressed under glass, instinctual yet hopelessly dangerous to know this brutal age  old ache is to have lived a life across the threshold Rene ~ 2013

Image: PublicDomain.com God, man It's been a long time since I've had someone whistle in my kitchen It's quite the delight Ahhh...you made coffee And you're making french toast! You are a saint You gotta fiddle with that knob on the left rear burner Like this It's a pain in the butt sometimes Personally, I think it just likes the extra attention Mmm...your ear smells like cinnamon not fair, man, that... not fair at all your ass looks better in my sweatpants than mine does I now have to kill myself After I eat a loaf of french toast, though You want some orange juice? freshly squeezed...somewhere Tell me, again Why is it we never were? Rene ~ January 5, 2013 For 100 Word Song The song prompt was Dan Fogleberg's Same Old Auld Lang Syne This is my spin on the classic