A photo of mine, 2019
In that chatroom, her nickname was Desert Rose.
A stone rose
As crust plasters
With bronze thoughts
burnt dead seas
And of thoughts
throughout the time
And of colours
in chalk frozen
A stone rose
A mIRC chatroom, 2005
Come with me to the other side
of my soul. There are died
dreams made by sand and dried
thoughts and hopes from white brides
Come with me: I’ll be guide
to my heart and I’ll tie
my bad wishes together to cry
where dark sins fade at light
Come to see how much wide
is our love that we ride.
Like the sea rises tide
I’m with you and so pride …
SL, Galadriel’s Mirror, MiddleEarth
January, 13th 2019
(Photo by Melania)
Silly words born while I was chatting with a friend about a landscape built by Terrygold.
Maybe not silly at all.
What’s a winter dream? It’s as a scream
made by shadows that cover as cream
my frost skin; shivers’ stream
runs like hopeless bad sin
What’s a winter dream? It’s a flash, gleam
that moves me to be silly and write reams
clinging to thoughts rerunning same scheme.
Winter dream is too much my own theme
SL, Casvian Caye, January, 12th 2019
Gustav Klimt, The tree of life; at the right end: The embrace (pic found here)
I cling on to your body this night
when I grasp your chest and you entirely
and I take you and you take me and
spasm of life runs across all my flesh
I am frequently far in my dreams
lost in evil screams scattered there
in a desert, my acts can’t be true
and they have so no substance, no beauty
I cling strongly to you and this night
becomes lighter and dissipates shadows
that freeze deeply heart and my mind.
You feel me and you see me and I’m back
November, 4th 2018
I took this photo on February, 9th 2018
Days already get shorter and evening
runs to win leading us towards nights
with their sad load of dark feelings and
filled with boredom and mood of gloom
A wren tries timidly to throw colours
using his minute song while clouds now
dripping inhibit impulses to
any full turgor of summer life
I dream of dead who are now so many,
I confuse them with the living ones.
After which I see you in twilight
and your tender light breath calms me again
October, 29th 2018
Photo by JB, 2014
In your lawn I lie down and I’m peaceful.
You catch me as I were simple life
without asking for anything, only
wearing your welcoming smile
There are silence and peace on your lap,
your skin is like a dress full of light:
only it’s a slight whisper of dream.
I’m calm seeking your glance to give me up
IRC Chat, 29.VII.2018
Photo by Terrygold
I’m lost in wonder: my friend Terry continues to improve her building and artistic abilities; her last work is this wonderful Rusted Farm so filled with strange and worrying insects, made with a full original style.
Here are my poor words for her work.
Rustinsects dusty and reddish of earth
burnt and dirty with iron’s dry blood,
nightmares monsters and maybe ourselves
walking slowly across far lost paths
Skinny spectres and tainted with dumb
sensitivity, corroded image
of us, the soft ones, with our feet
on the ground squeaky into blue hopes
SL, Casvian Caye, August 25th, 2018