Primitive dreams

Primitive dreams

Did you lose your way…

along the passages through the cliffs?

Falling, falling, lips brushed cold          Midnight night skies,

to the warmth of Gauguin‘s light.

Pressed iced glass colors                  Calmness washed absent

Flight, from civility                               Bohemian magic

Rediscovery in                                   Pressed fingers pulse beat

The rhythm of paced breaths             the pearls dropped …

spilling on to floor stealing                  the shimmer of pale moons.

Bending images back

Into an Iris penetrating….

nike e. bottalico

Breathing of Iris

Breathing of Iris

The Breathing of Iris series will contain thoughts and imagery primarily of the Flower of the Iris or the Iris of an eye.  Or perchance other thoughts…

An Iris is grown from the root of the “rhizome.”  The rhizome or roots is buried into the soil or mother earth.  An Iris is used in perfumes, and has medicinal properties.  An Iris is also used in essential oils made from the flowers — used in aromatherapy and can be used as sedative medicines. Once the dried rhizomes were given to infants who were teething (Ahhg!).  Some brands of Gin use the orris root and iris flowers (Bombay Sapphire© and Magellan gin©) for flavoring and color.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_%28plant%29

The Ritual

Magical center breath,      heaves and a sigh…

The uncanny                     Fades

the shapeless                  draft of paper smudged

tiraboleiros swings,

smoke drifts and floats,

the small surprising clinks of the chain…

palm leaves                               dried from past Sunday’s

collected                                   the liturgy sung,

not in flat sad words or flat earth noise

but the                                     lilting of voices so pure only the children hear

the piper play                         and bagpipes echo.

“The breathing of Iris”

nike e bottalico

AKA — theladyo€© or ~musingsilence~∞