Doors

There is nothing more exciting than walking through a door.
To the steps of the mundane or to the next adventure.
We always know where we are going 80% of the time.
The clinking of keys in our hands, locking our doors to keep our family, possessions and secrets safe.

What if the next time we go through a door
We abandon our clothing and run down the street.
To be touched by wind, sun or rain.
And to escape the voice of reason that binds us to our daily ghost.

The Hands of Dryad

The souls of Dryad sleep no more,
The hands of Dryad caress no more
Now that the Phoenix flies and the earth burns.

They are traveling far, weapons in hand.
Of those who destroyed the realms where the ancient owls once roamed.

Lady Mantles

Lady 1


Here she lies within the sea, filled with images of the sun and moon and the twinkling stars. Once she emerges from the sea she realizes there is much work to be done.
Magic is strongest when one is young.


Lady 2

Pondering while lying in the grass and climbing trees.
Here is the dept of expansion in the world of learning and dreaming.
What will I be when I grow up?
But for now, who wants to grow up?


Lady 3

She dances to a rhythmic drumming and the wind that whispers incantations in her ear.
The calling of autumn, the smell of bonfires and the skies painted with a somber glow.
Mystic forces have taken hold.


Lady 4

Captured..
The first frost of responsibility begins the subtle death of freedom.
But it always lingers in the forest, the ocean, the desert and the heart.

Lady 5

First love and heartbreak, Is love really sublime? To love and lost, to cry and rejoice.
She has no time for toads or malicious princes. Only noble hearts who love to laugh and ride pink elephants.

Lady 6

To give birth to a child, An idea of a distant dream? Pursuing the passion of one’s heart. No women’s spirit should be held to the typical role of society’s box.



Lady 7

As the skin ages so the soul flourishes.
Becoming the crone, mixing elixirs or baking cookies.
Is there any difference between the magic?

Pieced Together

I don’t own a sewing kit, no one has ever asked me to sew a button or hem a skirt.
I never mended the holes in my socks when I was older.
My grandmother taught me embroidery and the thick colors that hid each pattern,
It reminded me of her story telling, exuberant tales of religion and magic, her history that bleed a wild imagination into me.

Later in life, I took up quilting and knitting but soon lost interest of the quiet afternoons, the truth was I became bored. The patterns were set, but the colors didn’t weave stories or held the beauty of her face, there was nothing but silence except for the ticking clock and my breathing.

Blue Dragon

Today

Today is something that comes from nothing.
All is clear and the landscape twist and turns,
displaying the grace of an acrobrat.

It is the time when all is calm,
And the passing afternoon is made for lovers.

Agents of Despair

We are the agents of despair knocking on your door.
If you answer you will see a sickle and scythe,
We are not malicious nor will we come after your children,
We will leave that torture to society.

We are the agents of despair,
Knocking upon an old man's door.
Bound to a wheelchair and breathing device.
He is harmless and feeble but has lived a good life.
But ask him what he did with his fascist uniform from 1944.

We are the agents of despair opening the gates to swollen oceans
and burning skies.
People may fear us but we are just the beginning,
The real beasts have only begun to take shape and awaken.