Ceramics + Writing, dreams

Sleeping with Malachite (part 1)

The owls are perching
On the ladders of my dreams again.
Heavy oppression,
Vacuuming the brilliance out of me.

My flint feeted girl grasping
Her inner world.
Where bells rung,
To set the horses galloping
Through green dust infinity.

What incubus?
Has dropped in my belly of layered terra;
With picks to pluck out
My dream felt exuberance.

To be awaken at 3:00 a.m.
With vacant swan girl stare.
Swathed in ivory guilt.
Did I forget?
The owls are my friends.
Above, with watchful hearts,
They strung up stripes of malachite.

Poem & Ceramic Art: Naomi Ruth W.

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16 thoughts on “Sleeping with Malachite (part 1)

    • Yes they are a great hoot. Ahah! I would like to be one. Supposedly they’re my spirit animal. I would like to think so.
      Once a made a ceramic bell with an owl on it. Gave it away.

      Like

  1. Mark Ryan says:

    A wise old owl lived in an oak.
    The more he saw the less he spoke.
    The less he spoke the more he heard.
    Why can’t we all be like that wise old bird?
    …..(loved it and the art!)

    Liked by 1 person

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