∙∙∙∙∙incense of a burning

dedicated to my Beloved and to all ~


on bended knee she crawls away with mouth of gag,

"3 string haiku"

colours end in black surround the dark of my soul implode and escape throw me to the sky watch me fly through countless stars i vanish within emerge fractured light illuminate the night sky

"a call to ripen"

unfurl silent bloom...

"as time begets time"

violin tears drawn across your bow create &; fill a pool spirit within your eyes lament a song but do not weep for us weep for time its minutes its hour its ticking hand its inflexibilty, in its drive its motion. strike a key dark or light light or dark resonate her you, the key in which she strikes uniting time &; sound. she has learned your rhythm well please, allow her to play for you her composition of surrender to the tick, tick. the sweep of your minute hand carves time upon the keys of her piano, as she creates for you, her metronome, her time signature her conductor. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova "as time begets time" 4apr'05

"creating language"

snow covered chalet two people dance on the page of piano fire ~ full round notes, she plays they pin themselves to the room fall inside, they do ~ the whole now half notes touch the outside from within symphonies untold ~ liquid sound music slowly drown the five senses rise to the baton ~ conduct the fire tongues unheard scream from her mouth creating language `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 15mar'05

"falls into darkness"

i turn to walk into the muddied recesses of my mind;

"from your blow"

raise the divine flute to your lips close your eyes pause...

"her night's performance"

a bough gently leans across the calm, still lake. its reflection pulls to the sky and softly kisses the brow of each cloud, leaving a slight indentation from which rain will now fall. extend the branches

"His angels"

a feather flew down

"my scent within Dragon's blouse"

oh my love, our love is not contained in a bottle of this world.

"oh to be human again"

storming skin strangles me boils me like a furnace insides rage like a panther pacing in a small, tight cage no cool air just the breath of hell walls breathe a pin drops loudly my mind as dry and crisp as the sizzling desert oh, to be a cool mountain lake and not this hot, blazing sun! `t. imaan tretchicovmanicova 31may05


sometimes at night i close my eyes and dream of you and butterflies your slave...


two lips apart doth part and kiss still in the night so still and bright new moon she is in splendour bliss she leans upon her silent knight his outstretched arms now do release this crescent young into his stars


stand still do i with you so far the moon crest night and twinkling star so much unsaid my mouth has closed my thoughts for you now in repose the course has turned to my dislike i kneel not now to serve your likes


the night does blink and so do i the sky in colour does reply


as leaf does spin and fall to earth, the ground prepares for her rebirth. the trees allow for subtle sigh whilst wind in whisper does reply. his gentle breath commands the air to braid his spirit through her hair and intertwine the forest floor about her beauty as decor. new moon, he fastens to her soul bejewelled as he inverts the bowl; the planets whirl, the sun does rise and all is captured in her eyes. amidst the light, her dark ascends like sun with rain reflects in blend. for Daddy `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 17sept04


upon the green, i find a tilt save for the hellibore does wilt, the slender brown mixed inbetween the proud of place amidst the green. the flexing mind in its repose is beckoned softly in her prose; the unsaid words but heard on ear in time are spoken in voice clear. the pawns are slowly moved ahead as thoughts are wondered in one's bed. listen! hear the green brown face as oftentimes they leave no trace. once on the lips, the wind does carry those priceless threads it does marry; however, on slim occasion, one does hear without persuasion. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 11mar'05


into this place she finds thee borne her gentle soul 'tween thee is torn she offers grace upon the wind celestial voice in sound does sin and purge its dark from light's discourse in silence or in code of morse when code of choice is silence best then silence best is best expressed from light's dark light as light does bend and from that bend an arc extends so neatly round that darkened girl that girl so dark in silence swirls a seamless seam unfurls her light and burns an edge into the night `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 14apr05


in still of night, the shadows fall the moon her rise, the dark her call the silent corridor she hears celestial music to her ears the light is shed for skin of black as shadows call her to her pack the mind her music, song her dance the whispering night does entrance new moon, the jewel pinned to her breast beneath a note that does request the air does howl, the moon does blink her path to guide, the night to drink now found to her, dark light in one a mark to prove, `tis to be done `t. imaan tretchicovmanicova 19may05

"the sun, now her crown"

ornamental jewelry, he loans nightly, twinkles against the ebony backdrop of his symphony, she arches like the crescent moon...