Hello Missouri

Hello, hello

Welcome my dear

I’ve noticed you before

I know why you’re here

Peruse and digest

It’ll all become clear

Your intuition is correct

It’s what draws you near

You were mentioned to me

A whisper in my ear

You may find some answers

You’ve nothing to fear

So say hello Missouri

Let your vision be clear

It’s not what you want

Though it’s what you should hear

~ kei
15 December 2014

Full Crow Moon Thoughts

I woke to the descent of the Full Crow Moon and your words.
Your words
How is it that your words leave me speechless?
Why am I unable to put form in ink to the images and emotions that you make in my head?
My words
They seem so inadequate, so small. I sit here and stare and stare, willing my heart to the page
I am stuck here
Caught on the cusp of emotion that is like the edge of a volcano
I am terrified to feel this way again
Terrified that it’s too soon, that I’m too raw, that I am projecting
Your words
Speaking to me in shades and swirls of blue and green
Your words reach for me through colour but your thoughts remain unseen
My words
Dip and dance in my head. Seeking sunlight shafts of light that you make in the darkness there
They run on and on. Twirling pirouettes and endless dervish raptures.
Seeking to find the music in the colour and the song in the lines
Searching for the right combination of verse and meaning to kiss your eyes
Striving for the perfect tone to paint your heart with the colour song of me

~ kei
16 March 2014

Love Lives Here Now

Love took a wrong turn at Albuquerque or maybe Albany
Love said build me a home and we will live together and for happily ever after
Love said “Baby, I can’t sleep without you, I’m nothing without you, I would die without you”
Love left her alone to die while he went Bowling… somewhere Green

She had built a house from nothing, it was small but a place to start
She furnished it with Budweiser and books; his favourite soap and dreams
She built it all for the two of them but it was a house of cards, it seems
She lives in a house that has never known his voice and will never know his love

At night she pulls her pillow over her head to muffle the shouting coming down the hall
At noon, she checks her mail to see if Love remembers her name, among all the others
At night she can hear the neighbour girl’s baby daddy being arrested
At dawn she wonders if three floors would only maim her if she jumped

The boy could see all Love’s colour, his hands knew Love’s feel
The man’s brush made Love on blank canvas and he made it real
The girl saw Love and it kissed her soul from two thousand miles away
The woman’s house is now a home, Love came to live with her today

~ kei
28 February 2014

Love by Ben

You can find Ben’s work on his website at: Expressions Of My Life –  An Evolution Of Art

Body Of Work

Let my skin be your linen and parchment
Dip your tongue into me for your honeyed ink
Trace love in cursive onto every inch of my skin

When you write, be speaking in tongues
Pen love letters to my lips, my navel, my nipples
Turn me like a page and begin a new chapter

Paint my soul with the shades of you
I am a pristine canvas eager for your brush stroke
Every colour you envision, wash over me

Sculpt our bodies to something more perfect
I will bend to your will, supple in your heat
Moulded together by your hands and skill

Leave me with a Mona Lisa smile every morning
Let me be your body of work…

~ kei
17 February 2014

Winston Chmielinski, 2008

Winston Chmielinski, 2008

Gallery Opening ~ Friday Fictioneers

I thought I would try my hand at a Friday Fictioneer prompt. Inspired by rochellewisofffields.

Rochelle presents a challenge to write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end, based upon a picture that she provides on her blog.

Here is today’s picture prompt (below).

Gallery Opening

Word Count: 103

Genre: Fiction


Liz felt like an imposter in the pretentious downtown Toronto gallery but these places were a hazard of dating Diego. Agents and critics adored him; fans and sycophants flocked to his shows. Unable to compete with his ego, she planned to end this gracefully, after tonight’s opening soirée. She had just set her glass of sangria on the painfully trendy brick bar; when it was shattered by a flying rock, turning the painting behind it, “Diego’s Blonde” to a vampiric redhead. The subject of the work; looking crazed and dishevelled, shouted “Sold!” from the doorway; turned on her heel and left the gallery.

**Constructive criticism welcome but please be gentle, this is my first time**