24 seasons

Heated room, the fan blowing hell’s fire to the four corners,
Her sword’s aimed, blazing to the sun’s lost rays.

Morning.

She’s got sky ambitions for an earthbound beauty, rosetted
Corsage sewn to her wrist in blood.

Afternoon

Swilling tear drop infusions in a China cup, the afternoon pour,
A sick, oppressive humidity sinks her inside the sofa,

Evening

Chill in her spine, the night crawls upon her like witches’ wind,
Dragon’s breath in her hair.

Night.

No relief in sight, charred words will crumble onto cyber pages
Til rheumy dawn casts the garland crown.

The Dream

The dream beckons

Cracking the sound waves

Wreaking havoc in the wind

 

The dream struggles

Breaking the shackles

Shattering the silent space

 

The dream…slips away

And dreams its own dreams

Intertwined

we borrowed a little soil
to grow food around our
little house

the wind, which had blown strong
off Bellingham Bay
all winter and spring,
was still now.

neighbors walk out at low tide,
from Locust Beach,
when the cold waters recede.

fires are burning all over British Columbia
over 1 million acres of trees have
sizzled and popped.

the air is eerie from particulate
refracting light,
as if a nuclear war had
flashed across the horizons

we kept inside to avoid
breathing the noxious air.
that smelled faintly of
charred dreams.

but I went out to pick
summer blackberries,
high in a thicket above
Squalicum Park,
reaching high as I can
for the plumpest ones,
willing to be scratched
by their thorny arms.

happy to work near the
honey bees,
plying the wild pea flowers,
intertwined.

Grounded

Bonfire so grand
Embers warm my hand
Sea breeze
Soothes sun-parched inland
Restless soul, legs tanned
Waves tease
Lulled, seduced, I stand
At ease

World, My World Jan Rog, Hour 1, Prompt 1

World, my amazing World, you sustained me

When death came near.

Winds first rustling in wild torrents flew me

To the hospital, where waiting doctors listened for

Sirens above the whoosh.

Water iced over in silver-white edges cracked in support and

Traction in the frenzy of gurneys and running emergency bustle.

Candles flickered during desperate prayers in the darkest hours

That night when tiny flowers found strength in their mulch-covered seeds.

You, my World, embraced me then comforted and saw us through.

 

World, my nurturing World, you comforted me

When death stepped aside.

Trees in February’s chill dug into the deepest soils

Past dried leaves, left over snowed tears, and

Knotted growths to pull up the delicate leaf buds of

March, slowly, shyly gazing through my hospital window

Teaching me that roots grow within us all

Bringing life when we most need the breath for one more day.

 

World, my brazen World, you goaded and prodded

Me in defying the daily deaths of apathy, fear, and resignation

As I returned home yet needed more healing.

Sun shining into my home brought no soft rays of light but

Instead fire-flight wings of energized determination,

Allowing for my own tears to well-up and flow,

My hurt to howl out in springtime’s wind songs,

My knees to gratefully sink to soft muds and new grass in cries of humble gratitude

Following wobbly steps and murmured fears.

You celebrated and inspired

Recovery through a dark passage.

Your flames would reach up, billow, and tower to illuminate new paths or

Grow smaller into candle flames to warm each pastel spring morning to a golden afternoon

 

World, my miraculous World, you celebrate with me

A rebirth in this summer a year of trials, growth, and wonder after that first shock.

Winds elevate to make me want to fly or coo to me

Water in storm torrents or soft mist cleanse me

Your minerals, rocks, and soil connect me to a deeper, richer inner-well

Your fire warms for energy and ignites my determination.

World, my amazing, nurturing, brazen, miraculous World, thank you for my life.

The pain of the Chosen

Her sorrow is as low as below sea level, but her faith is like a promised life of eternity. Her heart is as peaceful as love brings like still waters upon an ocean at ease. Her joy is a journey beyond the path that eyes can see.Her mind is full as hairs on ones head. Her soul is pure and leads you along to the gates of Heaven but not once did you notice the slow tears of her pain.

Hour One, Earth, Wind, Fire, Water

Elemental

Wild child, breezing through
the passing days, twigs caught
in my hair, I rode
the back of the north wind,
her spirit child.

No one ever told me
those swiftly disappearing
days would be here
and gone, burned away
in a flaming instant.

For what do flames need
most to feed them
but air?

The kinesis of roiling
atoms that once informed
my being became one man’s
food, and I nearly disappeared,
subsumed within the fire.

On my knees in cindered
supplication, water revived
and cleansed me, and I
evolved once again, a fish
darting in gleaming shimmers.

Slip-sliding through currents,
another gently supported,
behind, below, around, held
but not restrained by the water
bearer’s caressing hands.

One day it will come,
my final being, a child
of the earth at last, coming home.
The once sustaining waters
will flow, trickle, and slow.

For what will my own wild
child need? I will feed
that which feeds my children.

Playground

swings

rusty metal creaks and squeals

under the weight of children

children squeal, too

for a second, they will fly

but as children do

they never fear the fall

 

sandbox

dirt and ants and sand

shift and mold like clay

baby gods form mountains, valleys

castles rise and crumble

they have no need for kings and wars

just those fragile walls

 

jungle gym

hot iron, paint, and woodchips

backdrop for many plays

the actors never need their lines

a maze of metal lines and planes

explorers welcome

you’ll never get lost

 

monkey bars

high above the earth

hands tight, arms strong

leaps of faith, no, certainty

speed back and forth, race!

if you jump just enough

proud blisters will remain

 

I am afraid to fall.

I build my castles ready for war.

I am always lost.

I like my hands unblemished.

I may no longer be a child,

but I remember how I loved to play.

My Life

My Life

as I am  here I wonder
what is the true reason
the essence of my life
is there cultural discourse
do I respect others
focused on such a high level
doubts and scepticism vanished
refuse to be silent about reality
sharing what moment  lost me
my allegiance is with what brought me
wanting  to cause a sensation
I’m free to chose my destiny
not to look behind
that next door changes everything

 

 

Brian Sluga

Elements

You are

my earth,

the place

I planted

my heart.

 

Your breath,

my wind,

carried

words of

love

into my

needing

ears.

 

Your passion,

ignited

my fire,

it consumes

my

skin.

 

Your touch,

water

to my

parched

skin.

 

You are

elemental

to my

survival.