Every moment
Breaks, shatters
Into an array
Of hopeful possibilities

Fire of winter’s
Sunset fades
To glittering stars
In a cloudless sky

Remnants of a discarded life

Lay scattered on the floor

Sky a constantly changing blue

All of this inevitable but until then

I want to dance at

Midnight underneath

A full gleaming white moon

Watch stars streak across

The wide expanse of cobalt sky.

I painted the whole canvas in vibrant yellow
Last night with the lights dimmed, the moon
Casting rays as strong as the sun's through my windows
Thick, happy yellow sunbursts of color while listening to
Tranquil Nora Jones and Enya tunes, adding mixes and splashes of
Related pigments
Umber and sienna providing depth.

Ripples move from the source
Gliding, growing larger
Swirl and swill becoming
Muddy rather than clear
Spring duels with winter
Capturing the day

Silver moon
Stretching across the sky
Casting shadows
Past the ancient cypress trees
Blowing in the night breeze
Monochromatic colors of blue,
Black, silver.

In the gazebo of my heart
Stars burn brightly, a wide, wild expanse
A meadow where exotic birds flutter
Glimpses of flowing colors, each a dynamic facet
Starry, sunny
Crisp, clear.

Jazz wafts lazily to the ceiling smoky and soulful
Friends and I at a modern day speakeasy on the outskirts of Atlanta
The crimson haze of Chianti flows freely through veins
Smooth, soft, sensuous, swaying
Transcending time and space
Only jazz and Chianti

Rose petals and thorns
Abundant nectar for all
Silky on my skin.

Color of red blooms
Pure white flecks of snow descend
Petals gently fall.

An open window
Cuddled in a warm blanket
Ice and snow thickens.

Swirl of emotions
Monet’s paintings inspire
Inhibitions fade.

I am not the type of girl
Whose favorite color is pink,
I love green.

I am not the type of girl
Who lives for tiny yappy dogs,
Give me a St. Bernard.

I am not the type of girl
Whose afraid to get my hands dirty,
Hand me some flowers, bulbs, and seeds.

I am not the type of girl
Who goes in for Juicy Coutre at Neimann Marcus,
Give me JC Penny and Macy’s any day.

I am not the type of girl
Who’s scared to smile at strangers,
I smile which could brighten someone’s day.

I am not the type of girl
That is an archetype,
I am more than one layer of my shadow
I don’t want to be a persona,
But an anima.

Across open fields
Gypsies dance and songs echo
Poppies grow freely.