My daughter, mine, though you live thousands of miles away sleep safe, my daughter mine. Though you live where a man caresses a weapon of war …
My daughter, Mine – Annette Kalandros
My daughter, Mine – Annette Kalandros
Category: Uncategorized
Honored to be featured on Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen today
To Longfellow
snow on the mountains
defiant of the warm sun
rests, sugar sprinkled—
—as I stand warming
in this brilliant sunlight bath,
the cross of snow melts—
no longer seeking
refuge upon my still chest,
where feeling returns.
My Prayers for this World – Annette Kalandros
Prayers for this world whispered lightly, softly as if fearful of offense. I wish to scream my discordant, unsung prayers into this world, letting …
My Prayers for this World – Annette Kalandros
Honored to be featured on Braveandreckless.com
Force of Nature – Annette Kalandros
I’m honored to be featured on http://braveandreckless.com
We, the dogs and I, stopped and watched a mockingbird chase a hawk away from her nest. She did not stop. She did not hesitate. Her bravery knew no …
Force of Nature – Annette Kalandros
No Doves live Here – Annette Kalandros
I’m honored to be featured on Braveandreckless.com
No doves live here. Only a sparrow stirs its wings, bristling against the chill of this grey misty morning of rainy cares. No peace found anywhere on…
No Doves live Here – Annette Kalandros
The Devil’s Face – Annette Kalandros
Pouring rain while the sun shone on a summer’s day… I will never forget that time, that moment, when I saw, without doubt, The Devil’s face, …
The Devil’s Face – Annette Kalandros
I’m honored to be featured on Braveandreckless.com
In the Afternoon
A scent, remembered from morning deepens missing, yet the knowing grows green, healthy tendrils like the Golden Pothos sitting in the window, enjoying warming sunlight.
Shattered Stone
Inside a sarcophagus of stone, I have dwelled, a hard place in which to learn to live, no breath taken, heart stilled, where all living shrinks down, behind skin and soul, to be bound in hieroglyphic wrappings designed by others. Onlookers believing the pretense they wish to see-- as I stopped struggling for air, a mimic of the beating rhythms of life, accepting the coldness of the stone. Any warmth transitory as the sun in its travels from season to season from rise to set, in these years I have known only coldness after any fleeting glimpse of warmth. Such a bitter coldness-- though none would think I lived encased within stone, so life-like my hieroglyphic mask, a masterful mimic I had become. Until stone cracked, by mountain winds and sun, falling in splintered shards, crumbling to dust ‘round me. My tattered, faded wrappings torn, hanging loosely. Until a hand, as if in possession of long forgotten, ancient magic, should touch long dead embers, and in touching rekindle flame, swirling within, spiraling outward warmth that does not die upon the withdrawal of touch. A heat lingering, warming still, stirs hunger once thought dead to life. Sweetness pounds a rhythm out— starting a heart to beat again, blessed breath returns to deflated lungs, the shallow breath, the weak pulse hold ancient power, leaving flesh and blood and bone to move in life again, a life reclaimed from the stone of gray filled years. Cautiously, hesitantly, I step over the dust of shattered stone, making my way toward the touch that carefully, tenderly removed my tattered hieroglyphic bindings, allowing me to move freely within my own skin. There trembles within, a longing I never sought to find. Hope rises and takes Fear within its embrace, transforming it to joy, as I extend my hand to the warmth of you.
Hearing The Mermaids Sing 