Wild Crafting Plants for Perfume and the Old Way of ‘Staining’ Cloth

“My dream has been to create something truly special, distinctive and lovely from nature;  the scent, that when adorned, would evoke the story and mood of the carefully selected notes and essences that were chosen for each artisan crafted perfume and cologne. I believe in the power of weaving a story out of natures own roots, flowers, leaves,…

The Lightning Walnut Tree

  The Lightning Walnut Tree I stand small, in the summer of my innocence, beneath the ancient, lumbering, struck walnut tree. The shimmery haze of Summer sun, hypnotizes me;  as I dream of a silver winged storm that struck a jagged, cavernous rip, down the black walnut tree above me. Moving on the lazy porch…

Summer Memory at Dripping Springs, Featured on Rutger Hauer’s – Soap Box Poets

Summer Memory at Dripping Springs   © by Tommie Flannery Baskis Late summer days, linger; in hazy dreams before the door of autumn. I find in Dripping Springs, an old forgotten rose bush by the white clapboard home; abandoned many, many summers ago. The rotten bird house still clings to a post at the old,…

Marrowbone Town is as Ancient and Orphic as the Memory is Intimate with Secrets…

  Marrowbone town is as ancient and orphic as the memory is intimate with secrets. Light is the same at Marrowbone in the morning as it is at dusk, when the sun and star shine, upon silver fog, reach the eyes. One will find many treasures and visions among the souls of townsfolk here. You…

Jupiter and Lucinda; and the Backbone of a Knucklehead Motorcycle

    My Father told me, – ” Desire is a mighty strong and strange force, my child; working its alchemical magic upon our child like, puppet souls.” I never knew where Jupiter came from that December, southern night, when I was walking that same old, red clay road that lead into Dusty Spirit Springs, mining town…my…

Dreams from the Wood Porch

    Dreams From The Wood Porch A stirring, of rust colored leaves, rise ethereal with clay dust, as the girl child dances under the hazy sun of the afternoon heat. Not yet an Angel, gold dipped in sin and prayer; her tinkling laughter is matched by the cicada drone, that beats with hypnotic fervor. He…

Slippin’ Creek is Just a Stones Throw

  I’m my Mother’s shiny girl child when she left me here. I’m the seed of love from my Father, distant watcher; proud of my growing. My Grandmother spoke to me on the last hour of her death bed –  “Child don’t take money for things undone and things that should not be done” Boy,…

‘The Forgotten Promise’

He, the One who has given me everything, walks before me in the light that hides in dark places of the forest. The sun casts his shadow, a forging of smoke patterns that are winged and amaranthine. It is in his eyes, the vigilant watching of a believer; one who willfully ensnares a moment for…

The Child always feels the Power of Presence and its Place among the Living, in our Time of Knowing.

As a child, that always ran towards the sun, I look for things that can never be found. I reach out to ones that have no answer- I see their smiling love, joyful laughter, like whispers in the wind… They are fleeting moments; in a locked time piece. I can hear the distant clock chime,…

‘Lucinda Mae, Jupiter and a Pig Named Pearl in Dusty Spirit Springs’

(The moments that align) ‘Lucinda Mae, Jupiter and a Pig Named Pearl in Dusty Spirit Springs’ by Tommie Flannery Baskis   The moments I speak of now are carved deep within the child I once was. The breath of my soul, fearless in the path of the great mystery, I stood proud, in the place…