Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!
Blog Tools
Edit your Blog
Build a Blog
View Profile
« July 2013 »
S M T W T F S
1 2 3 4 5 6
7 8 9 10 11 12 13
14 15 16 17 18 19 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31
Entries by Topic
All topics  «
You are not logged in. Log in
Musings
Wednesday, 12/19/2007
Untold
Mood:  blue

Hell opens

for the tainted to pass

I sink against the black

against the starkness.

 

Amongst the flowers

light penetrates

No worse than you, I am on earth.

 

There is no arrogance to speak of

your glance tells me all.

 

Hell opens

for the tainted to pass

one soul to another

they share their fragrance

not the dank nor the murky

but golden saffron

bursting crocuses

right beneath our grasp.

 

We have become lost

against the backdrops

of what should be

black on black

hyacinths in our veins like lightening rods

it was your fire that ignited all this.

Eyes lowered

I listen, your glance..It is in your voice.

 

I am who I am

as you command when I walk

amongst the dead cut through the earth

like ancient mud

Jealous of you

shaken and swept....

 

Our hearts are on loan.

 

D. Claudia Ash

Winter 07


Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 5:57 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Summer Soliliquy
Mood:  lyrical

 

The night curves like a snake

breathing, then something forgives all the pain.

The purple hour before nightfall

two hearts

two beats

Midnight, moonless summer nights

clouds swollen like cottonwood.

I feel civilized today

morning coffee does that for me

Sharing the same latitude on my back

while shadows cast a line across my breasts

then the moon dies without its silver lining.

 

D. Claudia Ash

Winter 07

 


Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 5:55 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Monday, 08/21/2006
Turn again and glance back
Mood:  cool



I am never quite finished when I am with you
Slight smile, chiseled jaw, splendor is the heat
Of your kiss.

I am no authority
On love
Sex
Or any other of life’s deliberate moments

In the dark
You appear brighter. A gleaming gold coin
There could be no acrimony between you and me

Thoughts break
As I watch your pants come off
As desired measures are left on me
Like a plague or war

When I am spread out like myrrh
Love leaves its tentative breath
As you want me with intense devotion

Bed sheets so purple and you as rare
As Sirius, bursting glorious inside of me
Never one disenchanted moment

White rose’s luminous skin
I lie on your bed
I turn again, and glance back.


D.C. Ash
August 2006

Muse6165@copyright.com

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 8:27 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 06/11/2006
Poetry
Mood:  chillin'
Poetry:




At the end of the page the words don’t just end
As I write, the world does continue, immortal.
In the end, that is poetry.

There is a fight, but no solider
There are scars with no blood banner delivered
Nor souls repossessed.

The hedge of roses whispers around us, above us
Words, the loyal friends, never strangers.
At the end of the page, words just drop
Forever immortal, that is poetry.


Muse6165@copyright.com

DC Ash

June 2006

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 8:54 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Not the hours before, but what comes after.
Mood:  chillin'
“Not the hours before…
But what comes after.”


Living her life as though
She was throwing a party

The appearances of exquisite perfection
There was never any question of her sincerity.
We believe our own lies when told with a smile.

Her eyes deceive us. They tell us a well told yarn
Of hyacinths and buckets of roses on a cold Monday morning.
The rattling key enters toward a complicated place…Love.

The past walks in early. It disrupts, it unnerves as she tosses
Eggshells in the waste basket, egg white still clinging helplessly
Like her resolve.

When parallels converge, water rises; it floats the past by drowning
The novel, though completed, leaves her bereft of purpose.

Not the hours before but what comes after…It beckons, more.


April 2006


D. Claudia Ash

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 8:54 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 05/28/2006
Arousing the Goddess
Mood:  a-ok



A Goddess among the
Red lotus
Her soul mingles at
The foot of the tree.

Eyebrows arched a
Canopy of emotions
Hands clasped in surrender.

She is a stubborn saint.



D. Claudia Ash
November 2004


Muse6165@copyright.com

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 10:07 PM EDT
Updated: Sunday, 05/28/2006 10:26 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Saturday, 01/28/2006
Blue Notebook
Mood:  lyrical
In my blue notebook
I ramble about things.

My mind wanders like the
scent of his room, I savor
the moment forgetting who I am.

Fingers laced through my hair,
stroked, caressed. I write this
down. Curtains whisper what went on.

I think about all those seductions,
nimble movements, the taste left in my
mouth the next morning.

There are no sighs, no false regrets,
knotted halos placed upon my headboard
cools the liquid heat left by him.

The aurora splashes across
his mind as he reads it. I am his blue notebook.

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 8:31 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Wednesday, 07/20/2005
When I sleep
Mood:  not sure








At midnight
under the mystic's moon
vaporous opiates she exhales slowly
into the universal soul.

The magnolia sleeps at night
upon broad shoulders, almost suspect.

At midnight
the open window welcomes the flit
of a firefly, in and out. Fearless.
Do they dream of fragrant trees
solemn and silent?

Melancholy does arise pale sheeted
over the sunrise, new portal, idol stone.

The echoes become the child within
always thrilling, yet alone.


D. Claudia Ash

July 2005

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 4:43 PM EDT
Updated: Wednesday, 07/20/2005 4:53 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Saturday, 03/26/2005
Experience
img





Your name a reminder
remains in my mouth as
you become the other even
if just for the moment.

There is no us
just experiences in that
circle of your scent, I swim.
In your taste, King Solomon's figs
sticky on my lips.

Your touch alive like
fire opals dropped onto the freshly
fallen snow. Laughter at one point
will replace desperate hunger.
Hours tracked so carefully
not wanting to miss one moment...

I was not meant for you
you were not meant for me yet,
somehow we become the other's other.

In breath and pulse, heat and motion
you open me like a clean white saguaro
late in the evening. The moon shades
rosey brown nipples against a backdrop
of what is to come.

Moments so fleeting, experiences so primal
their trail on my skin a delicious
reminder of the heat that was.


D. Claudia Ash
February 2003

Muse6165@copyright.com

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 10:08 PM EST
Updated: Saturday, 03/26/2005 10:13 PM EST
Post Comment | View Comments (2) | Permalink | Share This Post
Wednesday, 03/09/2005
The Evil Garden
img





The muse lives in her evil garden
a muse in exile. An enigma.
A lover comes to her meticulously slow
the hunger excruciating.

She can not ask but it is known
that her soul was born in his
shallow breath. A paradox.

The muse lives in her evil garden
ploughed and hoed with tears painfully planted.
Each time she thinks of him the crocus
gets bathed in rain. A dove coos.

She is nestled in this garden of fragrant
honeysuckles that court the soon to be
night's dwindling light, shimmering naked.

The muse lives in the evil garden
of her own making aware of the rivets
up her spine and the kiss that will renew.

He inhabits her like the golden sun's rays
on the ash-trees' bark.


D. Claudia Ash

November 2002



Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 9:33 PM EST
Updated: Saturday, 03/26/2005 10:22 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Monday, 02/21/2005
Layers
img




Hands of grace
I come undone
the smooth hand of
a dream slips inside
the tomb of me.

Rocks, slick with rain
skimming across puddles was
somehow suppose to remind you of me.
My scent kept alive inside the brown
spine of your books.

I love with a hot core intensity
raging religiously as February's
pale sun shines high, at faceless
G-d's set upon altars bereft of wrongs.

Hands enhanced
undone over those pebbles
we grind over.
Hourglass fragments under a barren tree
wafting fragrant branches...

Just a silly girl in her lingerie.


D. Claudia Ash

March 2005

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 9:15 PM EST
Updated: Monday, 02/21/2005 9:36 PM EST
Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink | Share This Post
Watching you, watching me




Daughter, lover, mother
with all the ribbons undone
familiar terrain I collect and savor.
Red wine in bed.

You watch me, you have me...
I have written a thousand pages
speaking your name. Head back, now swallow.

Beneath the wings of your eyes
hands cool along my jaw, apple split open.
There is no emotional anarchy between us.

Red wine in bed
familiar terrain...somehow
books won't love us back unlike this poem
in my head. I taste eternity in just one
of your kisses. Your fruit beckons me.
I become a delighted disaster.


D. Claudia Ash

March 2005

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 2:57 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 02/20/2005
Author
img







I don't say his name
the punishment drains me
like sand pulled by tide
over my toes. I sink in and grab on.

Naked
hope suffers
morning manna left uncollected
thoughtlessly discarded.
I decay like that.

I no longer touch you
our story will not end with your leaving.
Lay me down on your cold bed, sheets
pressed perfect.

The moon adorns the roof as
light winnows in I play on my
dungeon floor after one of our storms.

I am the sacrificial altar
momentary calm. Balmy flowers tremble
before the new day greets us.
I hold dew on a platter.

I remember all this,
you are still mine.


D. Claudia Ash


January 5, 2005

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 12:45 AM EST
Updated: Sunday, 02/20/2005 12:55 AM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 02/06/2005
First person, I







Merlot brings you to mind
full bodied, Moroccan silk
cinnabar scented, a goblet
of womanhood.

The scent of tobacco hummed
between us. Unbalanced fan serenade.
Wine stain romantic, reminds me of Puccini,

Something glamorous. Spanish dance
courting hips and hands, eyelashes fan
stub bled face...

That first glass makes me sigh
mouth soft, bed sheet stripped.
I hold my breath and watch, cream
over blueberries burst languid.

You know who i am
you send me spiraling
full of riotous ache...


November 2004

D. Claudia Ash

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 11:03 PM EST
Updated: Wednesday, 02/09/2005 9:25 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 01/09/2005
Memories



It was night
glossy black stars dotted
vermilion-like beads
down along the cypress
our talks were sober
the tree nymphs trembled
our sweat sighed,
clarity revealed.

We were two tombs creaking
you tempted me with demons
jewel cold, spoken like a
charmed storyteller.

Lured, left shimmering
shuddering quiet with a
torment which has no equal.

I broke wild roses
without pardon,
to hold sapphire souls
clasped by fire.


D. Claudia Ash

March 2003

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 2:49 PM EST
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post

Newer | Latest | Older