Kitsune

Feral beauty, bound;

Source: http://www.coyotes.org/kitsune/myths_japanese.html

the poor man prostrates himself,
incorruptible.


************

 Here's a little haiku I wrote after being inspired by a Japanese myth called "The Fox in the Brothel".  I definitely encourage everyone to read it, it is a lovely story. :)

-Louise

Missing

Have you seen this dream?

It was very brief
   and boisterous
   and bright

a single red balloon
I sent to the stars last night.

Concentrate On Quiet

A sweet smile
for her laugh, too loud.

I pursed my lips
and hushed her,
the way I would an infant:
tenderly and without disdain.

She blushed and apologized
and looked to the front
where the professor

danced back and forth
before each of us
ignorant pupils.

Come What May

The clutter I've accumulated:
thousands of books, stacked
into neat piles that reach the ceiling -
I crave the knowledge folded delicately
between each page.

But what use is knowledge
when I have no strength to act upon it?

Come what may,
I must rouse myself.

Come what may,
I must revive my slow-beating heart
which even now
wears the mask of untimely sleep.

Sahasrara

Eternal.
I have surpassed myself
and rest easy, filled up
with stardust and fertile soil.
I am the nesting ground
for the raven and the dove,

I am the throne of the greatest power
and the greatest humility.

Come watch the blooming lotus,
tranquil and unmoving
on the mirrored sky.

Come join yourself with me
and let your roots carry deep
within my womb,
that you may see the World and

remain untouched by death.

Source: www.redbubble.com/people/goldenisis

Ajna

Deep in that feral place
where from river-washed stones
spring wild green toads
and fallen logs hide lazy crocodiles
that sleep by the water's edge,
we might find ourselves
illuminated by the sunbeams
that tumble through the shady treetops
and brighten the ground beneath us;
a golden daydream.

Follow me there, a brilliant star
that reveals the hidden way.
Eyes open and filled up with the world's color;
I will be your sight
that welcomes truth and illusion alike.

Source: www.viyett.com.au/yoga-articles.html

Vishuddha

Before the light of day appears
to cast away night's shadow,
clear voices of songbirds come
filled with hope and filled with sorrow

but fearful? not these courageous tones
which ring with all their might, of
the truth that lay in the rising sun,
the joy which gives them flight

and remember now, that I am here:
the howling wind
the quiet tumble of water over rock
the crackle of your flame,

the irrepressible voice
which causes mountains to crumble
and the immovable heart
to shake.

Source: www.trulyorganicfoods.com/blog/tag/healing-with-energy

Anahata

Breathe in deeply as my
howling gales surround you,
the chorus which remembers
every slight, every triumph.

Now,

Listen to the cacophony in your breast.
I am there, the joyous uproar
which has captured you,
a throne upon which
your soul rests eternal.

I am the citadel of your freedom
and the bearer of your guilt, the weight
in your chest.

Source: zeitgeistmusings.wordpress.com/

Manipura

Don't test me.

I've got a fire inside me,
one that even your icy demeanor
cannot extinguish.

It is true what you've heard,
I am a bright flash of light
and an insatiable spring of life.
Give me your hunger,
Give me your desires,

and I will be your strength.

Source: mindnutquest.wordpress.com/2012/07/05/jung-on-kundalini-manipura-anahata

Swadhisthana

The endless toil,
the ebb and flow
that erodes away obstruction;
I am that patient bitterness,
the trickling stream which carves canyons.

Hold me in your tender warmth,
and be gentle with my heart
for I am the ever-changing tide,
your muse, your solitude.

Source: www.yogaturk.com/yoga/chakralar

Muladhara

 I see only me.
The wind that sings
so sweetly between each blade
of grass;
the melody does not touch me.

I am the raw diamond,
your hunger,
the dark soil beneath your feet.

source: www.yogawithtanja.com/first-chakra-muladhara

Chocolate Veil

Source: http://www.flickr.com/people/caryndrexl/

The wishes I sent to the reddened moon,
sealed in parchment and wax,
were filled with sighs and longing -
I hope you'll see them soon.

Recorded in the darkest ink -
the raven's wing it rivals -
a simple, desperate request;
written here, as follows:

let this chocolate veil
which I wear without cessation,
that once before was my distress
now be my liberation.

Moon Picnic

The Madonna and Child

Mother woke me late one night
and told me to step outside.
Above my head, a silver crescent
casting off thick streams of moonlight.

She pulled from behind the house,
a small boat and a little oar;
inside was tucked a woven basket
filled with food she'd prepared before.

I climbed inside the wooden boat
as she pointed us toward the sky,
and we set sail for the twinkling stars
on a river of glowing light.

Mother grabbed the little oar,
splashed it in the glowing stream,
and toward the sharp-edged moon we flew,
to Her meteor-speckled shore -
and we stepped down on the moon,
with basket and blanket in hand,
and laid us down a little feast
upon the silver sand.

Mother made hot cocoa
and cookies and tea cakes,
topped with the heart-shaped designs
and red candies that she often makes.
She pointed out to me,
our home far down below
and told me her well kept secret,
of the magic, hidden window.
As I munched upon the sweets
and sipped my chocolate drink,
Mother turned to me, catching starlight
in her eyes, and whispered:

"When you are feeling down, my dear,
when the world seems dim and grey,
go through that crystal window
and you'll return to this holy place.
Then look above the cloudy skies
which below seem so forlorn,
and see the Earth's true beauty,
the paradise where you were born."

A Necessary Evil

In the quiet of an overcast afternoon,
when we are together and watching
the sky pass through us,
thrums a kind of roar from above

that casts itself upon my skin
and awakens something in you.

In your eyes, there, in your eyes,
where your lips are upon my throat
and we are tumbling together, blindly,
down this grassy hill,
I am tossed aside by my own inhibitions

and left vulnerable and awake
in your tired arms.

The thunder above us
that threatens the rhythm of our hearts
and calls us to wrap around eachother
and make an altar of my womb

is a necessary evil, that
even in its threat of annihilation,
pushes us ever closer to
re-creation.

"The Stars In Her Hair"

This is my first painting in quite a while, but I'm very happy with it.  Let me know what you think!

The Stars In Her Hair

Also, just as a side note, I'm sorry for the quality of the picture.  I don't know where my main camera is so I had to settle for less.  I'll post a better quality photo when my camera reappears!  Enjoy!

:3

Fantasie

I stood, uncomfortable.
I waited for his response.
I bit my lip, and watched him take in the silence
that followed the last note.

I closed my eyes
     and imagined myself away.
I opened my eyes
     and still he had said nothing.

Was it something about the way my hands
drifted up above the keys, as though to catch
the last ringing tones hanging above our heads?

Or was it the anger that filled each forte,
the tugging emptiness in each rest,
the bittersweet lullaby
that wrapped itself around us, and
bade us dream of our mortality?

Perhaps it was the way I sought the answer in his eyes.
I should have been less forward.
I should have diverted my gaze from him,
allowed him to tuck himself away
and become impenetrable.

In any case, I didn't know.
He kissed me, but he wouldn't tell.

Metamorphosis

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees into the sky away from itself,
I am falling away into something new

that calls me down into the depths of -
I, drag myself underneath the palpitating heart
and watch the clustered cells pulse violently
I, hide myself between the follicles of twisted hair
and watch the skin cells slough off

and become the wind and the snow atop mountain peaks.

I am made to watch those pieces which -
hitherto unconscious of their magnificence -
breathe new life into the wearied mind,
and show me that light I sought,
which Prometheus threw down to the curious Eve,

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees from the sodden ground it once called Paradise.

To He Who Holds My Heart

The feel of your arms
around my waist,
your lips, tender and wanting --

I lifted my face to yours
and fed your hunger.

Who I Am

Who am I?

I am not the wind or the sunlight,
though I have stood within them
and felt their kisses and caresses on my skin.

I am not the ocean or the rain
though both have caught me unaware
as I walked to school as a child,
or along the yellow shore, ignorant of the coming tide.

I am not the eggplants and zucchini
growing in my garden, though
they have sustained me
and made me smile with pride.

I am not my family, though
goodness knows how I have tried,
to please and become them,
they, the only ones closest to me, I know.

I am myself.

But I have not yet discovered who that is.

Cursed Dream

Sorry for the late post. Enjoy!
***************

I couldn't imagine I'd be here.
Burying her.

But the man was coming.
This was her only protection;
Their only protection.

In this forbidden land
Where seeds planted refuse to grow
Where time has stopped and sifted underneath
Thousands of years of sand,

I am burying her, breath and tired eyes,
In the hope that the man will pass by,
And the youthful condemned

Will be spared.