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Sky EyesDesert hands tell tales
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they

(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).

But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;

and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
ground underfoot—

for there is still sun in your sky eyes.
ApsaraFind me sunken into the
lotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,
waist-deep and pink

in sunset, and we will cry:
for three-faced elephants,
for rain,

for the dancers threading grace
between their fingertips—
until I dress in the heaviness,

a sarong of heat.
LointainListen carefully, for I am plucking spider-web harp strings in the light of your glistening, rain-sodden breath. There is such beauty in this city, and in symphony, you see—so keep rhythm with these skeleton trees dancing on street sides, winter branches quivering. Can you hear the beat of your heart? Its cadence is being matched by that of the shadows, ephemeral figures waltzing hand-in-hand across cobblestones and twirling at the very cusp of the lamp posts' soft glow...

          Sway now, my dearest, to the allure of this chorus in the night; to the echoing sound of this moonlit sona
FableMoon cloaks
fallen from
shoulders,

(and you are)

left clad in only
the softest of
shadows.
GhostsNight time musings;
hollow-eyed and shallow-breathed,
filling the spaces between clouds.

Quivering shadow skin…

And there are voices in the dark,
lost sighs and weight upon whisper;
but, we are all whispers here.
SimbelmyneThere is silence here, upon
stale skull tombs—
these everminds are stilling...

(And yet their tragedies
shall endure in the pallor of the
flowers in your hands.)
O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;

pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers

to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
SehnsuchtOctober again;
and the curtains billow
with broken glass echoes and
Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times

(ein
zwei
drei)

She becomes the rain,
and breaks her own heart as
the sound
drips
right through us.
Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
gossamer wings;

faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
slips away.
Lion HeartIt is building up deep within her fragile body like a heaving monsoon forming over the dry, cracked, heavy heat of an African savannah; an unforgiving and all-consuming storm desperately willing to drown out its less than fleeting welcome. Flickering with ceaseless coils of skin-searing energy like a grey-faced fugitive's adrenaline stricken heartbeat, it is not a bringer of life, but a threat to it—and even the most reckless are hardwired to take flight in the face of such a colossal and uncompromising foe.

          Beyond these white-washed walls, the world would have her believe that she is brave, a lioness, an exception confronted
HazeCatching sunlight;
golden silhouettes
dripping

with the
taste of summer
lingering,

heavy upon lips.
SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.
PeonyAlone, but for
the red boots marching
through my

cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the

lost. Ghost-
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama

in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
WinterbleederCurled around alpine legs and caught
within hollows and inclines of pale skin,
she carries her endless winter always.

It settles upon frosted shoulders and
caps heavy-lidded eyes, clinging close to
the darkness of each snow-flecked breath;
lingering above cracked lips and the
remnants of a long forgotten warmth.

But darling, don't we deserve each other?

(She'd been Spring's child before Winter's whispers.)
OdiumBlack and blue,

skin and sky—
water down the drain,
I say

as the red line of dawn
breaks over skeleton trees and

the
windowpanes
shake with

you.
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More from *Concora

SehnsuchtOctober again;
and the curtains billow
with broken glass echoes and
Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times

(ein
zwei
drei)

She becomes the rain,
and breaks her own heart as
the sound
drips
right through us.
SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.
OdiumBlack and blue,

skin and sky—
water down the drain,
I say

as the red line of dawn
breaks over skeleton trees and

the
windowpanes
shake with

you.
Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
gossamer wings;

faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
slips away.
Sky EyesDesert hands tell tales
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they

(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).

But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;

and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
ground underfoot—

for there is still sun in your sky eyes.

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September 14, 2012
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A

:iconconcora:

There is birdsong and
sun-drenched long limbs,
sprawled across India green;

wet hair haloes and
a restless route scrawled
up arms and over hands.

There are blueberry smiles,
feet upon dashboards,
and city-light fireflies...

(And,
then there is you.
Always, always you.)
:iconconcora:
Summer. :)

-

Featured:
Here by ~imaginative-lioness

Thank you!
:heart:
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:iconanotherpassenger:
~AnotherPassenger Oct 11, 2012  Student General Artist
I love how simply gorgeous this is. Wonderful :heart:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Oct 11, 2012   Writer
Ah, thank you so much! :heart:
Reply
:iconpen-and-mouse:
~Pen-and-mouse Sep 27, 2012
Oh my goodness... I find something quite special in this poem! :heart: The birdsong.. you've read the poem of mine... and India.. I fell in love with this country, even though I've never been there. Lastly, the "blueberry smiles" verse kind of reminds me of my friend's ~Mercury-the-Queen poetry... and she's my favourite poet.
Aside from this, this is such a gorgeous piece! :rose: Wonderful work.:clap:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Sep 28, 2012   Writer
Aah, thank you so much for reading this, and for the wonderful compliments! :heart: I'm so glad you enjoyed this. I love India, also - I've never been there either, but one of my best friends spend four months volunteering in the country, and her photos and stories from her time there make me quite jealous. :) Thank you once again. :huggle:
Reply
:iconpen-and-mouse:
~Pen-and-mouse Oct 5, 2012
You're most welcome, when I have some free time finally I'll need to check out more of your works! :) It's a pleasure.:rose:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Oct 7, 2012   Writer
:huggle:
Reply
:iconqueenofquills:
Mood: Love ~QueenOfQuills Sep 24, 2012  Student Writer
Beautiful imagery, there's something really quirky about it at the same time!
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Sep 27, 2012   Writer
Thank you! I'm glad you think so. :aww:
Reply
:iconwise-lies:
~Wise-lies Sep 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
i can't tell you how much i love this. i especially love, "wet hair haloes and a restless route scrawled up arms and over hands," your words are amazing, i can really feel them. :heart:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Sep 18, 2012   Writer
Aaah, thank you. :heart:
Reply
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