Under a temperamental sky and all
Violet woke to a burning smell
her love had escaped and gone.
An out of control feeling was free,
she found today to be dangerous
hard to just breath in.
Violet knew,
she belonged to one,
she pulled her hair tightly in place,
here to face the devil alone
fight or flight she told herself,
as smoke were filling her lungs.
Violet did not know of need
still, he quieted her mood
by making her look at the moon.
Last night’s nighttime sky
was now set on fire,
by an unusual August storm
she spread her fingers.
Again, time and attention was calling.
She silently screamed for him,
by noon, she swore at the heat
cursing love from her veins.
She caught sight of the flames
her glance fell on their garden
the silhouette of smoke and shadow
covered her once pristine greenhouse
sure to be destroyed, betrayed.
She sunk to her knees, ashamed.
Gone are her hours in the lessons,
the dedication to Plato’s cave, erased.
In complete ruin, her punishment.
It’s hard to catch a breath
Violet smears the soot from eyes
she blinks and sighs for the last time
under this, crimson evening sky,
she’ll stay and fight
her horizon looms heavy on shoulders
an even angrier sun is about to rise.
The 24th hour with no sleep
in the orange glow and haze
Violet froze, for there he stood
trying to free the large animals
set free to escape
Violet quite literally
ran and leapt to his chest
knocking them to the ground,
and before he could say the words
she buried the deepest first kiss.
Violet’s Fire,
had taken everything away
there in the smoldering ash
she had made her promise
“yes, I am yours.”
Violet’s Fire
Violet dreams to be loved by this poet, a poet that sees her in a garden. Wether against the ocean’s surf or suffering under the noon-day sun, Violet loves. Obviously, there is this part of her that wants nothing more than to please.
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….but who has the power to bottle the wind, but God? †
I believe it’s just meant to be enjoyed like a sultry summer night in the Sonoran Desert….dancing around a fire, music in the air like smoky alms.
I do understand God created man to have an inate desire to conquer and own…..but those desert gypsy women follow the north wind’s call wherever she blows and guides……and there is no punishment there. Only love and freedom and acceptance and passion and mission, where they all intercollide like a symphony of poetic praise.
Why must Violet have to suffer in your chambers? She spends her life feeling the warmth of sunshine rays on her face, feeling grateful to be alive…..she wasn’t created to suffer. 💋 Those nails. 💅
……and we know submission isn’t in her vocabulary, he keeps mentioning it but she no habla español.😘
She said meet her by the ocean, she’ll’ll bring a kite.
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We keep her stubborn w a hint of submissive
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There’s my poet ! Love you
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The beauty rises from
among the flames
so like the phenomenal
Phoenix she arises
from the ashes to begin a new cycle of years,
an emblem of immortality,
of reborn idealism,
hope, lays with One
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She is not wrong there Sir
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Violet finds living in today’s world extremely difficult. People are much too sensitive
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She always come back to us i love that with all her imperfections she still returns
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That’s #10 for Violet. Let’s pray it holds this time.
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Violet she is back.. i have missed her!
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