NASA Image of the Day

Friday, March 27, 2009

Electric bee yawn..Zap!

Tap and peck and poke and prod
And sift, and spit and turn the sod -
A shoot! Ah, spark of green amidst the soil
Such work amidst the boil
Of greying earth.
What!Only her, then...moving like a bee;
Funny...looks a bit like me:
Ha! Radar Love transmitting with those
funny feelingsers....just so!
Bzztmwah!(and O)

Monday, March 23, 2009

A Word of Space and Time

What brightness, is the sun, if I have no warmth?
All the heat and glow of my life is you,
And, therein, when I feel glimmers in moments too quiet to recall readily, or without some small restraint
Of heart, and mind, to soften loss
I close my eyes to fire's glow, hearth's home, and thee.
What then....the moon? Glow of white shadow eye, hanging there,
Sky metronome, awash with soft cloth of night's watch - there, just beyond my tremulous reach,
Blinking lullaby upon the waves, to order ebb and flow; great Tidal rhythm, bending oar, and bow,
Within this quiet breathing, between we two. What then, love?
Of orb's glow, or fire's heat, does thy sight alight this same, streaked star, blinking, and awake?
How or why, is't, then? Is't to collide amidst the ink of night; incendiary end, and start, to bliss?
Not so; only trails amidst the orbits then, when planets born of sigh and spark
Do hum and thrum and whir about, as dervish dance amidst the dust,
And Passion, finding Passion clings, and grows, to Be, and See, and Live.
Oh, wondrous Word, to order same - and Pattern's Love - anew!
What heat, what solace, this kindred journey long, to find, oh Dearest...You.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Forest Blooms under Water

…original watercolour….Dawn M. Nevills

March 7, 2009


..Forest Blooms Under Water March 7, 2009 Dawn Nevills

Saturday, March 14, 2009

“Forest in Late Summer” ….watercolour…Dawn M. Nevills


Forest in Late Summer...Dawn Nevills



Old City at Sunset

….acrylic on canvas…..Dawn M. Nevills





Old City at       Sunset      March 8, 2009 Dawn Nevills


“Self Portrait – Current Impossibility” ….acrylic on canvas…Dawn M. Nevills





Self Portrait - Current Impossiblity        March 8,          2009        Dawn Nevills

Friday, March 13, 2009

Spring Angels

....the rain just touched the edge of the building.

Tiny droplets began to drip, tormenting his gaze, as he waited for her in the gloom. A sudden gust of wind whipped across the greyness of the early evening, its icy fingers tearing at his jacket in a kind of mockery, cackling against the window behind him, and screaming silently of time. He shivered, peering into the gathering darkness. He hoped she had not forgotten the way. She had told him to stay precisely there - and he had learned to respect it when she was precise with him. He waited.

Suddenly, a car rounded the turn, splashing through the darkness, and a figure hurried along the walk further into the gloom, its hands shoved into deep leather pockets, head bent against the wind. Her favourite coat grew shape in the gathering dimness of twilight...slightly worn, butter soft leather, molding to her curves, and hugging the hips, like a gentle hug.

Closer, closer, impossibly small fierceness about the gait, striding through the darkness with the slightest of limps - barely noticeable, really - as if she owned the street, AND the weather - but always signalling, to his careful eye, that she was tired....

He stepped back, lest she notice his presence there, and her demand for him to "stay where he was, dammit, until she got there." He drew in his breath, seeing, at last, the uncovered head, the cropped hair blowing wildly about her face, plastered to one side of her head in the wind, and her shaking it away, impatiently, cursing: the glasses, speckled with flecks of rain and curses, interspersed equally, as she scanned the street for him, and settling, as always, precisely on the spot where she had told him to be. He smiled in the darkness. Impossible, she was:aggravating, and opinionated, and too quiet, these days, for her to be normal. He thought of her in a tight dress, singing, languid and soft and relaxed, with a glass of wine in her hand, and that hysterical grin she got, when she was impersonating Ertha Kitt, which made him laugh until his stomach ached: He felt suddenly warm, watching her stride against the rain, raising her face defiantly into the sky, and cursing the bloody weather, her lips moving in a usual gesture of dismissive unimportance, and damning profanity - without apology - for anything at all, except her focus.

Her coat was drawn up and around her face, her hair sticking up in impossible sea urchin spikes about her cheeks, the high skin across the bones flushed and anxious, as she walked up to him, while the droplets suddenly threatened to spill over the roof, and onto her head. He pulled her, bodily, underneath the eaves, slamming her into him at the chest, so she had to splay her arms across his pectoral muscles, to stop herself from bashing into him, face first. He felt the warm roundness of her full breasts hurtle into him, like an electric socket, fitting into place. He flexed his chest, to impress her, and then let his breath out, in a gush, when she squinted at him, knowingly, as purposedly bounced off him, and made him smile.

They stood there like that, for a moment, breathing, inches away from each other's mouths. Her hair was wild about her face. She just stood there, breathing, and peering into his...

"Where the fuck have you been", he said, quietly. "I thought you were dead, you witch."

"You stayed where I told you, though, didn't you?", she breathed in response, low, with warning, as her eyes narrowed at his tone..."and here I am, Mr. Trash Talk." She lifted a leather-gloved hand. "And you're okay"....this last was very, very soft, with a small sigh at the end, as she touched his face. "You exasperating, wonderful, bastard...I thought you might be hurt.."

"Come here", he said, "I need a you infusion." He kissed beside her chin, rollilng up her neck, behind her ear. "I think if you had been five minutes longer I would have started yelling your name in the street, for Christ's sake."

"...and what would you have said?", she purred, her throat vibrating beneath his mouth...."come, save me, Jesus?" She threw back her head, and laughed out loud, then. "Or, maybe....Muther....(she paused here, barely audible to him, her tongue darting out to wet his ear....) ....fuck me, or I'll die?"

"Be quiet"...He almost choked then; dammit, she had shocked him into life again, laughing at his shock in the street; cutting right through that tight self possession of his like a blow torch, and he could say nothing in response, as usual. He covered her mouth, then and there in the greyness, with his, his eyes springing tears at how he wanted to slam her against the wall, right there, and yell at her for making him wait, when he was insane worrying about her, this crazy little bitch with the goddamned glasses, and her fucking hair sticking up like some stupid egghead punk rocker after some rush up, in some pit somewhere...running through the dark streets, in the rain, dead on her feet and limping, because she was worried about his mental state. She made him crazy, this bedraggled woman with the beautiful breasts underneath all of the goddamned clothes, and the sparkling eyes.....And she was always, God help him, right.

He shoved his hand under her coat, and between her legs, closing his eyes against her hair. She was warm, warm, warm.....He gripped her, holding on possessively, in the cold, and the rain, and everything else swirling around them that suddenly had no meaning at all. His whole body was a throbbing rock, freezing and boiling at the same time, and attached to his hand.

"I am warm by the fire now", he said into the side of her head, winding his other arm around her neck, bending his head, and kissing her eyes, on top of her glasses, the top of her nose, and moving his tongue into her mouth. "This warm space is mine". He rubbed his face into her neck, his breath catching. He kissed her ear. He rubbed softly between her legs. "When it's your hand, it's my hand, you know, Winky." He kissed her ear, softly running his tongue around the soft lobe.

"Say it's mine, right now, or I'll hold on like this until you squeal", he teased her. He was breathing heavily into her hair. "I'll make you come right here in the street, standing here, if you don't. You know I can do it, too..." So soft, and fiercely, and accurately, he said it....she exhaled, wanting to punch him. His voice was strangled. He caught her top lip between his teeth, sucking it gently into his mouth, only to let go and catch the bottom one between gentle teeth, releasing it to kiss her again.

She had got to him again, the bitch, when he was so comfortable, and controlled, and ......alone. He stood back, suddenly, holding her hand, and then turned towards the front of the building where they were standing. The street was deserted.

He sat on the windowsill of the brick, the gloom surrounding him, with the rain teaming down.

"Come here", he said, softly. He pulled her hand so she walked towards him. He sunk his face into her chest, as she walked between his legs, then pulled his head back, and looked into her face.

"Marry me". he said. "I love you."

She sighed, stroking the side of his face.

"No", she said. "You're far too possessive, impossibly bossy, and you'd try and turn me into something I hate, that isn't me. Then you'd smother me until you made me crazy, because I was not able to be myself..." He looked at her face, and she put her finger to his lips.

"Then I'd leave you," she said, "after torturing myself for far too long, because I would deny myself what makes me tick, to look after you. And this...." she pointed to herself, "is not yours; it's mine. I just let you visit."

She smiled at him.

"I adore you though. I just know you'd start treating me as if I was either five, or retarded, after a week, and I would lose my mind. I worry about you constantly. You are in my most secret, private woman dreams...." her voice trailed off...she placed her right hand over his mouth, rubbing her palm into his lips, and making a sound low in her throat, that sounded something between a growl and and a very dangerous warning signal. It made his teeth buzz in his head.

"You're impossible", he said. "I can't function without you." He held her open palm to his face, and covered his face with it, peering at her between her own fingers. "I promise I won't smother you", he said, blinking up through them, and at her. She laughed. "Look where I am!" He kissed her palm.

"I'm stuck here.." he sighed, longsufferingly.

"Oh, so dramatic", she chided him, lovingly, laughing. "What did you do before me?"

"Well, I didn't go out in the pouring rain so I could sit in the street and argue with a woman about being crazy about her. It was a lot warmer, a lot quieter, and a lot more satisfying, baby...." She roared with laughter. He grinned at her.

"Why don't you just share some space with me, then, until you get used to me? I'm really not terrible, you know...." He looked forlorn, and she moved towards him, and sat on his lap, winding her legs about him, suddenly.

He looked at her hair, searching for something appropriate, that wouldn't scare her off again.

"I like your hair," he said. "You look like Spock." He sighed. She made a noise, and rolled her eyes.

"I can't believe I want to screw Spock until I can't think anymore."

She belted him in the arm...

"Hitting me! Help! Help! This woman can't stand compliments! Someone help me program her into being my love slave!" He whispered the words aloud to no one in particular, and then thought better of it. He'd hate her like that, anyway. It would be like a Stepford imitation of her. He changed tactics. It was like a horse; you never broke anyone's spirit.

"I'd make you dinner you know as long as you watchd me slaving in the kitchen for you, buck naked." She made another noise at him, exhaling through her nose.

"You would't stay naked for a whole day and walk around that way, if I asked you to? I have dreams of running away to a nudist camp with you every afternoon. You can't imagine what it's like trying to run a meeting...."

He sighed. "It's very unlike me. I'm very in control of myself. See how you've fucked with my mind? It's all your fault." He hung his head, a sad, tortured man.

"I accept no useful blame"......she punched him softly in the arm again.

He grabbed her, and bit at her breast, exaggeratedly. She laughed quietly into his ear, rocking slowly back and forth on him, there, in the street, in the rain....feeling the tingle begin, as his hands slid around to hold gently on to her buttocks, to keep her in place.

"Come and stay with me tonight..."he whispered into her hair. "...stay and let me feed you breakfast. I promise I won't patronize you." He grinned, and she punched him softly in the arm again.

"You!"...then he laughed, grabbing her arm, and kissing her gloved hand, and then her throat...

"Well...maybe not. You look funny in the morning though: it's very hard not to, you know, when you're laying there, half asleep, with your breasts with no covers on them, and the nipples sticking out"....

he rubbed his hand softly over her breast...."like this.." he licked her lip, softly, rubbing her breast, until she made a Marge Simpson noise and rolled her eyes at him, hopping off of his lap, and holding out her hand, sighing.

"People will say I'm a complete tart", she said, frowning at him.

"I love tarts", he said, grinning at her. "Especially raspberry ones." He bit her shoulder, exaggeratedly in the rain, making a gagging noise at the leather.

"The ones that smell like your butterscotch/almond/vanilla hair, especially." He stuck his nose in the air in the rain, sniffing exaggeratedly..

"Mmmmmmm......pie." She punched him in the arm, laughing, until he caught at her hand, took off her glove, finger by finger, and sucked on her fingers...."mmmm......vanilla fingers.....mmmmm......can hardly wait for the main course. Steak and potatoes and beautiful Rubinesque breasts."

He walked up and pushed her against the wall, his hands on her breasts, as he bent his head and kissed around her chin, and down her throat, moving around to her mouth, sliding his hands around her hips, and gripping her buttocks.

"You make me crazy, pie bum girl", he said, against her lips. "You and your four eyes. Come run away with me till we're dead." He rubbed her nose with his, slowly.

"Come rub that body against me, and say my name until you make me yell in the dark". He said the last words very softly, as the rain poured down around them.

"Ride me like your favourite pony, Madame." He threw back his head, and made a naying noise, pawing the ground with his feet until she burst out laughing.

"Come on, funny girl..." his tone was urgent now, gentle, and longing, and soft with emotion.

"I want you to laugh again, funny girl, and come without thinking about it, and let me eat dessert off your stomach." He kept kissing her between statements, until she couldn't breathe or laugh, or attempt even a combination of the two.

"I'll make you smile again...." He whispered the last words against her nose, just befoe he pretended to bite it. He stopped, suddenly, and said, quietly,

"I know you're not happy. I'll make you happy. Come share space with labels..I promise." He had both of her hands in his, and he was kissing her open palms.

"Hump me in the morning, pie girl." He placed her hands on top of his head, like a hand hat, crossed himself, and then crossed his eyes at her, until she laughed.

"Bless me, for I plan to sin alot....until you yell my name out loud. I'll boink ya till you beg me to let ya go to sleep, pie girl. Arrr..." He grinned at her, and moved closer, blinking his left eye half shut, like a crazed pirate.

"Even when we're old and crinkly?, she asked, squinting at him, unbelieving.

He sighed. "I think about your ass all day." Her eyes flew wide open, and he laughed against her mouth, until she wasn't startled or afraid.

"Even then, it won't be enough to make up for lost time, you know..." he kissed her mouth, then, very softly. .."...and I'll never, never hurt you, pie girl. Come on; say you love me, just one the pouring, crazy, us rain."

He held her face in both of his hands, and kissed her again, long and deeply, until she put her hands up to hold his head, and kissed him back, finally.

Then they both walked away into the darkness, holding hands. He slid his hand up once, to feel her bottom, and she batted him, giving him a bum bump until he almost careened into a nearby wall, and nearly fell down.....laughing. Then he straightened himself up, grabbed her around the waist with one arm, and they marched in a goose step through the puddles.....he stopped her once, to kiss her, reached into his pocket, drew something out triumphantly, yelled "Ta Da!", they grabbed hands, and ran down the street into the darkness....giggling like kids.