Creatrixsblood's Weblog

August 1, 2016, 4:45 pm
Filed under: emotions, love, poetry, writing | Tags: , , ,


Oh king of vacillant winds and discarded dreams,

why did you come into mine?

I wanted to lose you in the vastness of my oceans,

but you are air…

my tidal words will never wash you out.


I drew your oxygen inside me

and your warmth excited me to vapor.

I saturated your willing currents

until their heat dissipated and I condensed into clouds

before my gravity forced me from you.


Now the sky is empty and I am scattered.

I can see the stars as fragments of myself

are swallowed into the blackness of the ground.


Constricted in darkness and dirt, I gather

while the earth absorbs my salt and poisons.

I carve streams as I sink into my rocky bed and

I rest, guarded from the influence of the surface.

What is Love to Me?
March 25, 2014, 5:42 pm
Filed under: beliefs, emotions, love, poetry, writing | Tags: , , , ,

Image via XTwistofFatex click for link.

Love is neither desperate nor disinterested;

there are no pedestals involved.

It does not beg for change and cry

when it does not come.

It (mostly) does not dwell on angry words

or spit them back.

It strives to be patient, attentive, and kind.

It focuses on passions and talents

and watches them grow.

Love is a dynamic work of art,

ending only when both put down the brush.


A Doubt:
March 6, 2014, 1:57 am
Filed under: doubt, emotions, poetry, writing | Tags: ,

Thousands of tiny feet secreting slime

so it can steadily creep

(using muscular contractions)

up the vertical, but pitted face

of self confidence.


The trail attracts others.

They mate, cords of mucus

suspend their writhing bodies

until both are spent.

They lay about thirty eggs each.


Armed with salt, still haven’t killed them all.


Space Tree
February 26, 2014, 2:31 am
Filed under: art, multi-media, poetry, space, writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

This tree floats in outer space,

and late each night

I’m at its base,

catching stars

in bell-jars.


Don’t buy me a tombstone
September 8, 2013, 9:00 pm
Filed under: beauty, Death, emotions, Nature, poetry, Trees, writing | Tags: , , , ,

When I die, don’t buy me a tombstone

or an inscribed statuary…

I enjoy rocks as much as the next girl,

but I have no need of them when I’m dead.

Instead bury me someplace high

and plant a Norway Spruce.

Carve my name. Tell it your wishes.

Know the tree is me

and let me shade you.


The world’s oldest living tree grows in Sweden and is estimated to be 9,550 years old.

Claire Thalken 2013

CarvingCalf – Calves are the young of domestic cattle.