dance me out/dance me in

Painting: The Wedding Dance in the Open Air Artist: Pieter Brueghel the Elder Source:;

File Source: The

free verse from subconscious to fingers

free fall for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Music Friday Prompt #7 “Lateralus

no conscious thought, no editing, no sense?

spin me outwards


arms outstretched


dancing a spiral

hair swinging

feet stomping

half-ways dizzy

spin me inward






spin me outward

kaleidoscope dancing

prisms in rain drops

sun on my face


spin me inwards





spin me outward

spin me inward

spiral me up

spiral me down



dance to the kaleidoscope

dance to the dream

dance away slowly

perpetual motion



always the dance

© phylor September 4, 2015

born on the vernal equinox

She was born a tranquil. Maid of moss and mist. Born on vernal equinox. Under a star-pricked sky.

First fingers on dawn scratching away the cold light stars. Waken from a cocoon of sleep. Bathe in forever flowing spring. Braid wet hair with dried lavender.

Choose gown and cloak to match season. White wool woven with specks of black and grey. Airy diaphanous layers of greens, blues, and violets. Mottled surplice of iris and daffodil. Hot orange and harsh red short toga. Bodice and kirtle thick soft cotton flowing in golds and russets. Cloak woven with golden threads.

Spend days in shaded, secluded vales. Season shape shifted to season. Nature proving all she needs.

Foraging. Ritual of thankfulness. Shepherding her verdant world.

Fiddleheads and goose-tongue greens. Whortle berries stain fingers purple. Catching apples and pulling wild carrots. Winterberries red against snow.

Free of human companionship. Air full of bird song octaves. Soft nuzzle of fawns. Antics of squirrels. Puffed out cheeks of chipmunks. Wolf protector.

Delight. Discovery. Wandering. Spinning in sun-dashed glade. Creating.

Crown of flowers. Sluicing warm misty rain.

Braids of grasses. Tassels of seeds.

Smell of earth. Of heat.

Wreath of pine. Taste of snowflakes on tongue.

Horizon glows with sundown rays. Sky blue-black. Starscapes.

Green corn moon. Harvest moon. Blue moon.

She stretches arms. Legs. Curls up beneath weeping willow. Safe. Hidden. Blanket of pixie dust.

Dreams of dancing. Visions of brightness. Glimpses of fresh tomorrows.

I am vigilant. Keep the secret. Quiet the whispers. Still the tremors.

She must not know. Parallel universes. Timeless portals. Shapeless spaces. Bubble of dream. Bittersweet.

For if she did, a tsunami of salt-water (tears) would wash away moss and violets. Flames (anger) would blast forest black and barren. Poison (envy) dries up forever spring. Hail (self-hatred) batter the bramble bushes. Fog (depression) settles over the devastation.

She must always be born a tranquil. On the vernal equinox. Under a star-pricked sky.

Tale spun for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver 29: Tranquility

© phylor 2015


Collage 5

She liked to sit in the garden of hearts. Talk politics with ravens. Wear sepia.

Collect old bottles. Short, tall, short, tall, tall. Patterns within patterns.

She liked to float above forest of dreams. Thermals. Sepia sky.

She’s crazy but she’s magic. She’s magic but she’s crazy.

Sailing off in sepia sea. Sailing off in sepia sky.

I see her every third Thursday. I am crazy and she is magic.

Centrifugally spun for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Collage 5.

my two knees

A Youth on His Knees in Front of a Lady - Konstantin Somov

Artist: Konstantin Somov 

Image: A youth on his knees in front of a lady


my two knees

squared off

bones protrude


skin thin raw

mottled bruises

dried out scabs

my two knees

I fall on them

walk on them

grovel on them

beg on them

pray on them

take your hand

to pull me up

off them

cleanse the blood

bandage the wounds

my two knees

no longer

wobble, tear, creak

so strange that

we are four knees

fall together

on softer ground

my two knees

Written for: Music Friday # 6: stand up (Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie)