The Remains of Them

by megdekorne

image

still

she turns to see him

in her room

asleep upon white ginger sweet

now as then it is too much

this fire God burns Nostalgia Street .

image

does he see her

only then

before the sunlight changed her skin

her bashful feet adorned complete

with veins of musks bewilderment

upon the ghostly night off-beat .

image

still

the forever in his mind returns

to her of him , to him of her

too much , too much remembered love excrete

nowhere to go , there is too much love

there is too much world round her hands petite .

image

does he see her

only then

before her hair wove tangles grey

of careless curl laid indiscreet

across her tired outstretched arm

where blue and sand still long to meet .

image

still

the larvae swarm beneath

the bleeding bottom of her lungs

she’s terrified the booming beat

will choke and lift her from the ground

to hide the sea in vaporous heat .

image

still

still I talk to you

even though you’re far from me

screaming nights harsh retreat

you on Orcas , the island of whales

me beneath  volcanos loud deceit .

note : photos from personal album of my previous journey

52 thoughts on “The Remains of Them”

    • You are so soulful Julie and your presence here and your understanding brings both joy and comfort to this life of so often feeling ” weird ” …love from my heart back in Michigan , megxxx

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  12. I really liked this your poetry and photos are wonderful. I have the impression, I may be wrong (I’m not native English-speaking) that poetry has some nostalgic elements and sense of loss. Am I right? It touches me a lot. And it’s written by you so sweetly. Congratulations for the post Meg. Bst.

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  14. This rings with the deceit of distance, that haunting sensation of revisiting what has been, though it is no longer. Beautiful as always, Meg. I loved the photos that carry the soft golden light of dawn or dusk, and the bleaching of the driftwood– the wood that is gone but has never left, that has faded completely but is still so close…

    Peace
    Michael

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    • Dear Michael …I so much appreciate your thoughts always expressed with such poetic expression …” the bleaching of the driftwood” that has faded but is still so close …. You , Michael of unfathonable soul .
      with gratefulness and always love , megxxx

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  18. Tender is the memory…the distant longing of remembered times. Oh, Mag…your words created a space within me that went back in time…not with sadness…but with happiness for all that has been. Your photos are stunning…and your energy always inspires me!! ♡♡♡

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