poems / Obbur7
A Desert dweller speaking with flowers, writing with Ravens.
Persephone
O Winter,
Dark womb so still, so full
A heavy reminder of mortal resonance with flower blooms.
All the worlds agendas sharing similar characteristics, in the cold songs of silence,
Whispers of what really matters.
O Spring,
You lurking beast, so immanent
A green reminder of cherished resonance
With golden sun.
All the sorrow of winter, and the joy of her return at once leaving, Persephone id follow you to Hell, for the dark dance, I’ll meet you in those green fields come spring.
Headless
What is driving, before the words got in the way?
Like a condemned man escaping prison,
The heads turmoil put to rest.
The crown falls from weary head,
Placed back on her verdant mound.
He speaks the trees, she sings the bees
She smiles flowers, he laughs rivers.
Her touch the warmest spring, his arms embrace, firmly hold, as tender branch.
We dance the wind, we kiss soil to root, blood to skin.
Stripped of all the chains, we run as the mother
Bodies in motion, full of love and devotion.
Apocalypse Morning
Apocalypse morning,
How beautiful burning in your eyes.
Each sunset, apocalyptic, ends the day.
Each sunrise, apocalyptic, ends the night.
To share these endings, these beginnings
Nothing more I would wish for.
Let the world end, let change wash over the earth as it always has, always will.
Each day, each night I will meet you anew.
Together we descend, we rise again
Apocalypse,
Two vultures in a tree share a kiss,
We carry on, we carrion.