On-going series of poetic text of my own words and a collage of intriguing and inspiring quotes from various sources.
2016-
[I felt lifted into a dream of honey sunsets] 2019 The wind courses through your inner being as you bathe in honeycomb music. ooze, ooze, ooze peachy nice and easy take the time to fill it with liquid confidence deepening in colour as time goes by, you must remember this. Look, there passes the winged oranges on their daily dance grab a cup full of zesty zen before they move on. dance through the soothing fields of butter hour see the hot spring of yonder up ahead, bubbling with sweet delight caves breathe with deepening endeavours, don’t you know feel their reassuring pulses as you sink your toes into the golden carpet fuzzy inclinations offer you a segment of basorexia. Inhale the boldness of today look around you notice the particles of cashmere singing in their choir can you feel the blessed ruby air surrounding your body as you glide amongst the velvet waves? notice in the corner there, the honey scented ointment lets out a sparkling melody of ease open up your mind to magnetically embrace the warmth of the sandy vision bellow your feet, revealing ancient, amalgamations of trickling amber. A day passing of butter and patter, trickle and sickle spread a little marmalade and dip your toes in the pool of melted contentment as your body is resting, feel this liquid sunlight enlarging, grounding itself, reaching deep below the surface.
[Retrograde from Amuse Bouche: I Hear Raspberries] 2018 Retrograde, retrospective motion notion Watch planets for any length of time and, far from moving in any simple way, they lurch around like drunken bees, waltzing and whirling And when it leaves us, the possibility of accepting what we have - and who we are- seems entirely improbable Play as time goes by, I’ll hum it for you with a zing As two planets pass, or kiss, each appears to the other to retrogress or go backwards against the stars But then, back it creeps in the silent flush of an early morning Your hands are cold behaving like a shy cat I felt dropped into a field of enchanted clover that made me immune to everything Aideu Confidence has always dazzled, but what I felt was magnetic and so big it ached like the moon had entered my chest and filled it up A sign in the sky, or a vision, in a dream that lent boldness to your endeavours Aideu, there are octaves out there Spread a little marmalade and dip your toes in the pool of liquid contentment Now, an observer living on either moon would experience the notions of taste in space I’m a person who delights in sentimental things Raspberries But I don’t take notice, I lie in the grass and bathe in the freedom Sitting somewhere between head and heart, man (pronounced mun) is a visceral yearning backed up by the recognition that what we desire reflects our innermost self Every pair of planets creates a single dance Still dizzy from the oceanic gladness that surrounded her Experienced around obscure words and incomplete lists I wanted to let go of my feelings for a while and pull in my moat bridge The Golden Ratio is found throughout organic life forms; as the other part of me danced with the bees
[Myself in Poesy- Opehelia & The Naiads] 2016 Some enchanted evening and so she ever fed it with thin tears whence thick and green and beautiful it grew I couldn’t sleep last night strangers in the seems to turn your head around fever In the absence of security I escape into the night but why the loose threads of turmoil unravel into the stream where Ophelia is waiting with the naiads to take my sanity and pull me towards you look wonderful tonight and place me flat amongst the chord coral why do I look I get along without very well it is cruel said she chuckle in the strings to steal my basil pot away from me you can’t if you don’t let them and so she pined I’m feeling mighty lonesome I haven’t slept a wink while like held breath the stars drew in their panting fires why should she tend her oven I’m nobody’s little weasel Into the mystic I sail and my whole world turns misty blue confusion what’s real I ask you?
ELLY RUTHERFORD 