- 87,468 hits
Tag Cloud of Limingaars poetica Audio Poem autumn beauty bird birds Buddhism cat clouds cold crow crows death depression desire dogs dream dreams fall fire flash fiction grief haiku haikus heart home kiss life light loneliness lost love love love poem lovers lust moon morning naked nature night nude ocean poem poema poet poetry poets Post by Voice rain Ray Sharp river sadness sex short poem short story skin sky sleep snow song sonnet spring stars star tattoos summer sun sunset tanka tattoo tattoos of stars time trees water wind winter
Copyright Notice© Ray Sharp and Bard of Liminga, 2008 to Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission of the author and web site owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ray Sharp, Bard of Liminga and raysharp.wordpress. com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Tag Archives: dream
All I have are words — egg shells & feathers, hollow bones, empty nests — to give you, numbingly, the endless iconography, litany/liturgy of love & loss, sad little hellish dreamworld I less inhabit than wear around me tight as … Continue reading
Say you are the tomato plant in the container on the flagstone patio of her garden. She waters you when you droop, and snips away the superfluous yellow flowers. You are not the tomato plant in its entirety, in her … Continue reading
the moon is a solitary pearl a dumbstruck simpleton’s smile curled around the tiny grain of my solipsismal dream
These long December nights when the world is enigmatized in snow and the eerie moonglow makes me feel as though I am on the moon myself, a strange monochromatic sensation like x-rays of my past and future selves with all … Continue reading
love how it flaps its black wings and flies through my dreams how it hops beside the highway and how it pecks out the eyes those windows to the soul
I dreamed you clothed in golden sunlight with the neck and head of a deer and two human breasts small and round like the first ripe peaches of summer, and goat’s beard lichen, pale yellow, a soft tangle between your … Continue reading
On the last warm day of November you walk until ten past dark like a sleeper melting once more into the warmth of dreams before swinging her feet to the cold floor.