Pressured

by ltestonJune 25, 2017July 9, 2017

Not just frayed but edges pressed

pulled away with time

in pieces laid open.

Broken bloodlines crushed

still reaching for daylight

heart in hand

in love-seasoned life.

Photography courtesy of Guldman “TheGolden Hour” wordpress.com

Strandings…

by ltestonApril 26, 2017April 26, 2017

There is no imagination even

to find the journey

with lovers, dance and sacrament.

Evening shadows of vessels block the shore, the portals.

No tides, no swell. No circles of sun and moon.

Just flatland -well calculated, illustrated, dramatized and over spoken.

The daily grind , the inland

of forgotten life and being.

Image with gratitude via “Capturing The Imagination” WordPress.com

Prayer

by ltestonMarch 12, 2017

startled wakened in a scream

threatened breath

strangled dream

yet i lay me down again

a soul to keep

from terror ends

finding morning’s choir of love

hymns of peace

with eyes of God.

photography alexander yakovlev

Catching Light

by ltestonMarch 5, 2017

She knew beauty from inside out

flaming life with gentle sparks

When death like cancer found her heart

beauty breathless cried for help.

She died too early for spring’s warmth

beneath the surface broken, hurt

with hopeful lilies by her side

and dreams of color catching light.

-For Janice.

Nothing really.

by ltestonFebruary 4, 2017February 5, 2017

Empty places are not alone.

They are not so quiet either-

taunting and haunting thoughts

in exploding fragments full of grace

reforming time,

taking nothing really into the soul

and finding there a divine space.

Resist

by ltestonJanuary 28, 2017January 28, 2017

Bone chilled cold

feeling the force of the day mid winter

I apologize to those tall and green

standing alone with promises of spring

I don’t know their grain within

holding promises that warm

resisting the frozen cover of ice and snow.

Let’s Dance

by ltestonJanuary 21, 2017

Not just frayed but edges pressed

pulled away with time

in pieces laid open.

Broken bloodlines crushed

still reaching for daylight

heart in hand

in love-seasoned life.

Photography courtesy of Guldman “TheGolden Hour” wordpress.com

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There is no imagination even

to find the journey

with lovers, dance and sacrament.

Evening shadows of vessels block the shore, the portals.

No tides, no swell. No circles of sun and moon.

Just flatland -well calculated, illustrated, dramatized and over spoken.

The daily grind , the inland

of forgotten life and being.

Image with gratitude via “Capturing The Imagination” WordPress.com

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photography alexander yakovlev

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Empty places are not alone.

They are not so quiet either-

taunting and haunting thoughts

in exploding fragments full of grace

reforming time,

taking nothing really into the soul

and finding there a divine space.

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Like this:

Share this:

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They call it a march for a reason. A military maneuver really.

I am not inclined to walk in such a way.

But I would like to stand gracefully aware in defiance of a body politic.

In truth, I prefer to dance.

Moving in rhythm with cycles, life cycles–Unashamed and unharmed.

I prefer to dance.

Leaping with full turns, legs stronger than his arms.

I prefer to dance.

Stepping high above the platforms built by sad battles.

I prefer to dance and be captured in full swing by the pulse of divine love.

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