The Peach–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

Last Week

I found your orchard
and walked upon green grasses
and leaves danced
the eyes of the child
and shy peaches
perched upon the limbs
and lilting rays
pushed slashing down
and momentary glimpses
her perfection—luminescent
quickly hidden
snatched away
the dancing of those leaves

I plucked the peach so carefully
and cupped her in my hands
–her firmness, yet fragility
echoed with the dance

I touched my lips to silken flesh
to taste what lay beneath
Her flesh,
gave way my tongue
her juices,
tang and sweet

My hunger grew
desires fulfilled—swaying with the dance,
The sky
it circled round about,
falling down upon the grass

My thoughts are whispering with those leaves
they dance to you and say—
I plucked this peach for you my love,
enjoy it whilst you may.

–by elisabeth connelley

 

And then…the Creator has other plans!–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

One drop of rains falls.
It can be ignored.
More gently patter down.
I look up (do you?).
A teasing pause.
One drop, two, a rush, a dance
The mind moves, the body follows.
A weaving dance, feeling joy, creating downpours of expression,
rising, twisting, and spinning
across a pattern of life
simple joy.
I smile, inside and out (do you?).
Come to ground.
Refreshed by self after converting gift of rain.
I sit, peacefully (do you?).
I watch the gift of ground.

–elisabeth connelley

Morning Trip (25)

“Vulnerability is built into our hearts, which can be sliced open at any moment by some sudden shift in the arrangements, some pain, some horror, some hurt. We know and instinctively fear this, so we protect our hearts by covering them against exposure. But this doesn’t work. Covering the heart binds and suffocates it until, like a wound that has been kept dressed for too long, the heart starts to fester and becomes fetid. Eventually, without air, the heart is all but killed off, and there’s no feeling, no experiencing at all.”
– Norman Fischer

And then…the Creator has other plans!

One drop of rains falls.
It can be ignored.
More gently patter down.
I look up (do you?).
A teasing pause.
One drop, two, a rush, a dance
The mind moves, the body follows.
A weaving dance, feeling joy, creating downpours of expression,
rising, twisting, and spinning
across a pattern of life
simple joy.
I smile, inside and out (do you?).
Come to ground.
Refreshed by self after converting gift of rain.
I sit, peacefully (do you?).
I watch the gift of ground.

–elisabeth connelley

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