tmbt: sliding up

Sliding up and slipping out. Of bed. Of movement. Of sweetness. Of grace. A fall, but not far, the sidewalks twisted barely listed in the yellow pages, you are almost gone. It is a funny moment when the stars seem to bounce light all the way to the street, when a smile from the 90’s seems to warm my bed, and a waft of that musky cheap too-popular-then cologne stops me in my well-shod, much-aged tracks.

I think I know how faces fall, how lines set in and postures stoop. I think I know where the beauty goes. Even the most beautiful things turn on their heels, fall silent, keep figure instead of fires burning. Even the eyes that well with something special and shining can beam wet with a wonder that slides. Slides up and slips out.

Image by David J. Nightingale with prints and more available at chromasia.

~ by HeatherArtLife on November 12, 2009.

4 Responses to “tmbt: sliding up”

  1. Ahh but our true beauty is in our consciousness and love which can keep growing forever, and they are seen better without so many precious false Gods hanging around.

  2. To “sensitives” like us, all us readers & writers, Beauty is our prey, It’s what we hope for, the “happy accident” in a random lucky image in a photogragh we couldn’t have expected, how the oils on canvass take on new blends, new lines with unexpected meaning, how our poems & prose translate differently to every reader & become different childen to us than what we intended when we raised them. So please tell me..where does the Beauty go?

  3. Namelessneed,

    I sense that somehow the beauty we experience is already within us, waiting for an opportunity to be seen. Yet it is sublime how a lovely rose can (sometimes) evoke this.

    They say, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”. What does this mean?

  4. Age is slipping away and with it the chance to make amends, to forgive, to let Truth out of
    the dark and into the light.

    michael j

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