322

[image from google dot com]

STILETTO CORRIDORS
I
Cave dwelling
Around the fire the family eats
There's meat on the spit
Woman she, serves her brood
The men have put away theirs spears
Till the next hunt

II
Drawn to the light
At the tunnel's end
He wears the suit
The jacket and the pants
She has laundered them
With acceptance for such is love
She is, the good wife

III
Stiletto corridors
She tick tocks to
A new time clock
She wears the tight, tight skirts
She wears the pants too
Brings home the bacon
And she fries it
STILETTO CORRIDORS © gillena cox 2016


Written for Prompt Nights
When diving into the possibilities of Role Reversal – [36]


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[video choice today]

321

Unicorn and Phoenix by Carol Law Conklin Batik Artist used with special permission courtesy The imaginary Garden]


With her tiny pointing finger, she wonders at the moon, a child of my heart so small so cute, there is magic all around, for the moon is big and round, and grandma sings, a sweet smelling song. Plumerias white in the night, centers of yellow, like moon or like sun. Not every song, is lullaby in the night.
light of the moon -
heartbeats write the love songs
for a grandchild
© gillena cox 2016

Blog hopping today at
Artistic Interpretations with Margaret - Carol Law Conklin Batik Artist

Margaret's prompt

Monday WRites 84

[Jesse tree image from google dot com]

Inside the void of waiting, a crystal shines brighter than any dazzle could dare, Its name is stellar, its colour is clear, its passion is potent as source, as life blood. Yet its size is miniscule, like the tiniest seed or grain. For all that it needs to nuture being, is its reality.
season of Advent -
again faces are turned to
journey and a star
© gillena cox 2016



You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #84, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Linked to

Carpe Diem Special
Japanese Poetry In The Lowlands #4 Mariëtte Schrijver


Will link also to

The Tuesday Platform

319

BEHIND THE MASK
A smile to mask the pain of betrayal
When all else fails that smile supports
The shaky foundation of swirling waters
Eddying far beyond the heel of shore

When all else fails that smile supports
The rib cage that trust warrants depart
All that's holding soul to shell to soul
Is that determined refusal of drowning

The shaky foundation of swirling waters
With jaws agape enough to rips to shreds
Hope of belonging in faith of journeying
Hidden in the hurt that smothers living

Eddying far beyond the heel of shore
Horizons dim in misty rainbows sunken
Losing hues in watery spasms cajoling
A smile to mask the pain of betrayal
BEHIND THE MASK © gillena cox 2016


Blog hopping today at

Prompt Nights
On Popular Demand – Life is a masquerade. You never know who might be hiding behind a mask or facade – [10]

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[video choice today]

Monday WRites 83

[image from google dot com]
BRIGHT MOON
Moon bright, surfing waves in stellar night, have you care for human plight? Moon bright. Were the cares of man so slight, were the length of days so smooth, in your shaping, bright moon, would you save a dime to sigh, breathe a breath of birthing life, shine beneath a heaven far. Moon close in the far side of night, shadows dare rescind thy smile, for wherein is thy solid task of wanting to whisper to humanity's foibles, wise words for all can fathom. in deepest heart re-vowed. Stay your course to stars that may then, under umbrella of heaven's dome, wish to grant the dreamer's yearning, for days buttered better, to break fast, in supple morsels, faith thy seed in ample actions. Decide chance to wayfarers roof, to lunacy dearth of expressive sight, and pleasure, in the highest height, to appeasement of souls, diaphanous webs, skillfully threaded, days and yore, diamonds and garlands. Be thee bounty, near side of easy waning. Gather in thy shifting temperament, weights to anchor sea beds jeweled, worth the measure of human goodness, fashioned from a god unyielding, only wanting the gain of reclaiming, a pasture perfect as before.
hence super moon shines -
tree silhouettes reduce the depth
of ominous oath
BRIGHT MOON © gillena cox 2016

Revisit
Supermoon



You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #83, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Will link also to

The Tuesday Platform

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[video choice today]

317

Its way past dawn, my feathered friends pay a visit to my thorny bougainvillea, they twitter out such a raucous spell of happiness.
The bougainvillea bracts are a hot bright pink. In mid mornings sun, that must be quite exciting for singing birds. But what do they know of economics, of politics, of poverty, of religion, of hate or indifference. Then again, maybe they know it all, They have the wisdom of providence, and the duty to proclamation. So they twitter and they sing. And i, i listen from my quiet space, for this raucous passing is to me a needle to contemplation.
shaping futures -
maybe bright colours of flowers
sweeten bird songs
© gillena cox 2016

Blog hopping today at

Sunday Mini-Challenge: Still Points

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[my video choice today ]

316

MAKING MYTHS [2] TREMOR
Gaia sings her lullaby, for every crevasse, in every star. There's a lull, by which her progeny earth, will rest, will dream, will seep into the tunnel of darkness, emerging out, at the the sparked end, having traversed through the caves and caverns beneath, like a veiled bride, unknowing, until, the sunlight, kisses her cheek; one, then the other, and blushing, with passion awakened, the warmth of sun, like a splendid God, challenges her being to, the sensation of rhythm, so she sways and swoons, swaggers, and moves her hips to a new found prize called the dance. First her hips, then her feet, jewelled and coloured. Slowly, her pets tom-toms, too, are awaken, in a perilous spate of surprise to the view of their mistress's concert entranced, sounding a pace to her hips, those hips, mesmerizing, the bridegroom, Sun. Their passion rising, her feet, moves faster, shifting layers, shifting levels, till all that's left are the shambles, the sirens, the sobs. Muffled sounds; for now Mayhem and Despair too, are awakening. Chaos yawns. it's still to early.
dead men's bones -
the rattling of windows
in earth tremors
MAKING MYTHS [2] TREMOR © gillena cox 2016

Revisit
Making Myths[1]

Blog hopping today at

Fireblossom Friday: I Feel The Earth Move

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[my video choice today]