between the trees

November 24, 2019

Her heart was a dark forest and her soul all the wild things dwelling between the trees…

Edge of the Wild

November 3, 2019

It ends and starts with intention, for all beginnings are ends.

Invaluable, it doesn’t count for much, I know, but I try. Hard.
There are ways to repeat this, a chorus of crows, a fluttering of sound.
I might get used to it, after some time, but I’ll often be on edge, pinfooted.
It would look like spying, but see here, what I’ve quietly done.
Love and love and more love: evergreen,
Warm, belly-full; cool, satiated, a wilding of grin, romp and ballad.
If all my fears went driving, all stirrings travelled on,
I’d still be here, finishing things; planted and pruning.
There is no gateway; no golden harp.
I am in need, I am in want, I am in hope.
It isn’t a secret, a sheltered hideaway or a silent hurt.
I am admiring the view now, seeing all that it is full and plenty,
And wanting it for myself, closing the distance of one jealousy to another.
Forever; wild and steaming, rioting and skimming the sky with resilience
I am mostly staring at stars, backlit by moonlight.
Most nights, I wonder, half-handedly curious, yet struck with ebbing
Let me, help me to see the worth, the riches, the flourish under the hibernating.
I am so afraid of being troubled and alone at the end of this world,
At the start of whatever is next.

Leah Umansky

High winds

September 12, 2019

High winds
like beating wings
at the edges of the air
while you
wild as any wind
draw me to you.

fairytales

December 1, 2018

I’m not the type of woman for fairytales; I don’t believe in princesses, but rather Queens. I’m not interested in the pristine but rather the call of the wild. You’ll find me dancing with swords and smashing glass slippers. True to the name, this Cinderella will leave the whole place in cinders at the strike of a match.

Alannah Radburn
Yellow

There is a girl inside

October 14, 2018

There is a girl inside.
She is randy as a wolf.
She will not walk away and leave these bones
to an old woman.
She is a green tree in a forest of kindling.
She is a green girl in a used poet.
She has waited patient as a nun
for the second coming,
when she can break through gray hairs
into blossom
and her lovers will harvest
honey and thyme
and the woods will be wild
with the damn wonder of it.

Lucille Clifton

scent in the air

October 7, 2018

You are the scent in the air before it rains, and the blood flowing wildly in my veins…

Wild is, of course, her favourite colour…

The bite marks your teeth leave are reminders of our ecstasy…

I will bring your demons to their knees….

A firm grip on her neck makes her feel powerless. Choking intensifies her orgasm…