I meet her on a street corner in Brooklyn.
Turquoise hair, smoky shadowed eyelids,
Dark smudge lipstick cigarette.
She exhales a dragon.
She says she’s dying anyway,
and living, and dying again.
It never ends, like a labyrinth dream
like a myth.
I notice the angry scars on her wrists.
“Did it hurt?” I ask, pointing.
She shrugs and flicks an ash. “Doesn’t everything?”
“What was it like on the other side?”
“Same thing—dark and light.”
Young Nyx ©Angela Bigler 2020
photo credit: DarlingJack
Smoke Break via photopin (license)
Call me Angela
Call me the Dawn Rabbit.
The inside one,
soft and fast.
photo credit: Fr@ηk
Don’t eat them, just caress them 😉 via photopin (license)
Whoever said you’d stay the same is wrong.
Blood, water, flame.
Things change, like the elements—like me.
They weren’t yet cocooned, transformed, unfurled
in the fiery quest for their truth.
Now you become phoenix—
Healed and protected,
Forged into me as I am into you.
© Angela Bigler 2020
photo credit: alisonleighlilly
Give Creativity: Word(s) of the Day 2/23/2016 via photopin (license)
In my dreams, the women are drumming,
their waters are rising, silver and wild.
Making prayers of their bodies,
they dance as if swimming
under the Moon Mother spell.
© Angela Bigler 2016
photo credit: Micah Camara via
I didn’t know about fortune.
It was treasure you hunted,
or magically found,
Now I see it is grown
of a tiny seed planted,
deep in the soil of me.
photo credit: coofdy
Down amongst the leaf litter via photopin (license)
Her songs are earth deep mantras calling names of constellations into being.
Her light soaked in, released the magic pine and herbs.
All those folded flowers lifted up their sacred prayers – water, light, dirt, love.
Her gifts – who could forget them?
Did you see her gentle curves?
The way her spine supports her children?
It’s impossible to live without her heaven/earth transcendence.
Aren’t we all turning, turning with the planet that she raised?
172/365 I Want to See the World via photopin (license)
I rattled all the chains
in the old kingdom.
Thinking I was wind
or dirt, or rain.
the miles thick earth.
A whisper stoked
or armored friends.
The bark fed climb
and I’ll be rising.
Find me calling
© Angela Bigler 2013
Anita363 via photopin cc
Had I been adequately prepared for your visit,
I would have…
Plucked the weeds from my garden
And replaced them with budding beauties,
Invited you to sit on a soft carpet of moss,
Shaded by growing greenery,
Planned a picnic of your favorite delicacies from distant lands.
I could not arrange an appropriate setting,
Yet you made yourself at home among weeds and unpainted boards.
You refused refreshment and placed my needs ahead of your own.
Like our Lord, you came to serve.
Long after sunglow, I’ll savor your sensitivity.
~Nancy J. Ressler
Grant MacDonald via photopin cc
Bathed in words
She glanced within
Was anybody watching?
Who could care?
© Angela Bigler 2013
Lotus Carroll via photopin cc