"withered"

Wildalone

Wildalone*, I'm-

age harbouring a restless soul, uprooted

and haunted by this

intrinsic longing to be on the move

in chase of an archaic self-
reinventing ever illusionary horizon

somewhere else, obscure
like an emerald frosted century-
old heart-shaped sea-glass
relentlessly pounded by time and elements
glinting now at my weary feet
at the water's edge of Cabo Fisterra
believed once to be the End of the World
astounding, evermore unsettled
the mere proposition of a dream
distance destiny merging
someday, someplace

*Wildalone, самодива [samodiva]

_ _ _

“Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, 

that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.” 

― Isabelle Eberhardt, The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt

Publication at Spectral Lyre

               I would like to share here an incredible piece of poetic prose by Tim Buck, inspired by one of my recent photographic artworks, Unravelling pattern. It is a tremendous honour and joy of acknowledgement to be showcased at Spectral Lyre amidst the works of great artists from the present and not so distant past.

               Below is the link to this delightful publication:
               Poetics of Light — looking at a photographic artwork by Tatiana Nakova 

                                                                 Unravelling Pattern

               I further extend my sincere gratitude to you, Jillian Parker, for following, appreciating and generously encouraging my artistic endeavors, and continuously inspiring me with your own enchanted poetry and prose at flameinthesnow, each piece a testament of grace, true love, acceptance.

               Gratitude to you, too, Tim Buck, for writing this piece, taking such a profound look at my work and at this "fractal" landscape in particular, and being able to see further than the curves of glowing sand and the waves of light in the setting sun, but reach deep into my soul at the core of being, "aching toward . . . that condition of the always-beyond-and-therefore-ideal."

               I am humbled, my heart full of joy, touched beyond words . . .

               With Love,
               Tatiana (bluestorm)

"One eye sees, the other feels." ― Paul Klee

Dream a dream

"The eye should learn to listen before it looks." — Robert Frank 

Most coveted ―

Revere

". . . and lean not on your own understanding;" ― Proverbs 3:5

Prayer

Apparition

To sail the Seven Seas

_ _ _

Window-Shopping XXIV: Onda de Mar (Summer 2013)

Reminiscing forward

There are these words and things I mis[s]-

placed amidst hesitance and fear -
to seek uncovering onward

"Keeping things whole" (Mark Strand)

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

― Mark Strand (1934 - 2014)

Morning Sun

Autumnal light bands

It's true. I chase
the fleeting iridescents ―
and loose myself in
absorbed, quietly.
I in them and you in me
complete.

Fractal [e]scapes IV

_ _ _ 

Where does autumn descend to?

What does it look for under things?

Why does it drag all the colors down

as if must spoil whatever sinks?

And where do we descend to

like small portable autumns?

Where do we go down to even though autumn ends?

What disordered light

hollows out our foundations or erases them?

Or does life lack foundations

and only light swims in the emptiness?

Autumn pull us

towards a depth that doesn't exist.

All the while

we go on looking toward a height

that exist even less.

― Roberto Juarroz

tr. by Mary Crow

Litany of departure [triptych]

I bow to the spirits before me

Happy "Southward" Equinox!

Welcome Fall 2014!

Lips that spell secrets

Beware these lips! They speak [of] deep secrets.
For there is a cryptic hint in the name
I once was given to ― Tanya : tayna, тайна (secret). 

I cast my prayers in hot stone
toss them in the well at dawn, to be answered by the age-
old callings of your heart, my dearest
in one extraordinary sacramental offering ―
a thousand sizzling kisses, eternity long[ed].

Half a life away

Proposition for Throwback Thursday :
Half a life ago, left half the globe away

does it still equate to One, and the same?

The bridge

Holding breath