YieldI plant my feet in a grove of whispering trees.Yield4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cool breeze sweeps limbs which yawn and stretch,
soles decompose as toes grow, break through soil,
descend into deep brown fists of earth.
Trunk thickens, arms broaden, fingers twist
and branch into capillaries which bud and burst
into saw-toothed leaves and apple blossoms.
Soon my limbs are laden with fruit.
Freed from burden, we swell in praise of rain.
3 in the AfternoonHappiness is when the door clicks shut3 in the Afternoon4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at 3 in the afternoon and sunlight
stalks in uninvited through the blinds,
making a sepia mess of the room, and you
are waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting
in the sunken sofa cushion like a lost
nickel looking to be found. The truth is
you found me, standing just inside
the doorway like a stray animal brought
home for the first time, imbalanced
ragged and confused. I stumbled on myself
that first time, making more contact
with the floor, tables and walls than I
did with you. In some respects, that
hasn't changed. I trip on my feet,
walk into walls and door frames still,
but every now and then I bump into you
and remember what makes this home, what
makes you home.
MaelstromI smell winterMaelstrom4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in your bloodline,
the thick throttle of crimson
trapping the snow
and the crows' last laugh
stretching out the wires
taut and high over me.
I smell the cold
in the trees
where your face still hangs
caught like antlers,
weed-boned and blank
in the thin sunshine
of a drowning man.
And your kisses
still reek of snow -
frost chewing through my tongue,
cleaving to your smile,
blemished and beaming
in the surly light
left dying under your thumb
caught in my maelstrom.
Recipe for Disaster196 NationsRecipe for Disaster5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
1 Nuclear Strike
1 Retaliation Maneuver
6 Billion Dead
Don't bother baking -
the radiation will take care of it.
strangeryou came clinging to the grace of a summer storm'sstranger4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
underbreath, came cold hands and tired eyes
and a bruised lip i'd longed to kiss
when you stumbled on night listing
too far to the left
cross my thistledown garden by old dusks
that wilt between, i'll keep my door open:
your lady in sepia doesn't live here, only
the ghosts and i -- and Grandmother,
in the far-between wanders when she can
but i've a place where you can
lay your wayworn bones to dry, and
if morning should come calling, i'll not
tell her where you sleep. and stayed awhile.
How to Live or DieThis medication may have severe side effects,How to Live or Die5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if you feel suicidal please call the local emergency services.
Yes, I want to die, I've wanted to die since I tried to suffocate myself with a pillow
at the age of nine, at twelve I drank nail polish remover and spent the afternoon
vomiting lemon-burning up my throat.
This medication tells me, Die now, it's time, but
it also says, You need to take the garbage out and
how long has the baby been napping
and did you want to write a poem about it, a hundred
poems about the fact that you want to die and cannot
hold the weight of the gun.
Summer WomanWoman, you are my burnt sienna sculpture on Sun-days.Summer Woman5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are hiding my strength in rufous hair
and I feel you: russet-flushed to the touch,
jagged collarbone curving into neck,
easing into shoulders, into breasts;
woman, you are the warmest stone –
you are summery stone
to my water-drenched hands.
Woman in deepest reverie, you are hiding
my strength in pacific oceans of titian;
in running veins. My grasp
slips from skin slopes of sun and stone,
slips from you.
Woman of ragged flint and oil,
in sleep, your wind-kissed stone-neck drifts,
surges into a soft arch in air –
and does not meet ground;
and does not bow.
goldthe surface ripples.gold4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are the sun and alone,
the radiance of a halo not Luna,
whose visage is pale
as bone, whose flesh is cartilage.
peel the wallpaper away,
as grayscale as my touch silver
fades to sparks of ash.
a mist dissolves
to day. and you linger so transient
layer to layer, the clouds set as sheets
on an expanse of skin. tremble:
sea and sky
converge only to exhale
as they expand,
once. atmospheric pressure builds
where stars fall to water.
winter song.winter song7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I paid for you in silver dollars,
rabbit bones, and snail shells.
Beneath the flannel crush,
a twining of lash fingers,
I weight you with catamount claws,
I bury you in firewarmed stone
You are mine,
and I eat you with moth mouth
and spin you to silk.
When the winter stripped aspen bark
and the elk starved til their hooves
were too light to keep them tethered-
I carved the shape of a palm beneath the doorwood
and you tied three husk dolls to the tallest sapling.
We were a bowl, carved hollow and narrow
as pine needles and pressed against coals
and dog fur, leaning like lightning away
from blistered earth, taut with freeze,
away from wood, shrunk and sap-sticky-
dove tails untied and ribboned and bare.
Your spine is a naked rope and I climb you
to clouds rippled like sea-sand, my eyes
are bottle glass green.
I seize waves and swallow them to smoke.
You pad my throat with ash and
settle my bones with sandstone
and sink me to mud, coffined in ice.
You sell my teeth for cornmeal and
when it is midnight,remember:when it is midnight,6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i love you.
remember i will hold
your folded body as if it were a paper boat.
remember you can always
write me a letter. address it
to anonymous. put your whole
heart in it, struggling yet
above all, remember
life is transient,
but we are not. if we bury our toes
into damp soil along with the people
who leave us behind,
you and i
become no more than trees.
.:R e a l e y e s:.dreams take life after dark,.:R e a l e y e s:.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or so i've h e a r d.
it was, of course, a night lark
who told me, such a little bird.
life takes on what it will,
or so i've seen,
behind my windowsill
is a world still g r e e n.
old books breathe sometimes,
if you keep them close,
and if you caress their rhymes
and s t r o k e their prose.
dreams are always and forever,
not ephemeral strict binding stuck
in the darkest parts of dark cold nights
but whenever we can laugh in glee
and talk to ourselves or little birds, even.
life takes on what you give it,
not in c
the aromatic Miss MirandaA blouse turmeric yellowthe aromatic Miss Miranda5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
On a youth, terminally mellow
Lined, crumpled, irregulous
Silk, a fabric to be ironed
She a girl not bothered
By a few creases in her fleeces.
Paprika red tresses, cropped close for convenience
Bristling with potential for lyrical length
By a girl bored of boring.
A herby heathen vegan
The incredible, edible
aromatic Ms. Miranda.
the gameWe have loved each otherthe game5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and lost. You took the risk
and won. I know you have loved me because
you trusted me to understand. I love
the things you love and your beautiful life,
bursting into blossom.
This, TooI point to the hair on my knuckleThis, Too2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you say, “yes, this, too, I love.”
It is longer than the year before, curling
a little farther from my body. I say so
and you say, "I know."
I pull it out to two options: am I angry
that you saw my body betraying youth,
that first little slide, and did not tell me?
Or, do I pat your rounding belly and say,
“yes, this, too, I love.”
For Nelson MandelaIn this cup, I once held the world;For Nelson Mandela5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you were so tiny, skin like starlight
against my worn and tired hands.
In the years and the hate,
I could not always keep you
close. I gave my life
to piercing the darkness
and you, cupped in these hands,
you gave me light. You forged
my knees straight and standing
when I wanted them to buckle. This world
I have tried to build
is suddenly empty -
these cracked fingers, once etching
the course of the river of history,
no longer hold water.
At World's End LITTLE BOYAt World's End2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
boy girl r e
c o n c r e t e r
.juno..juno5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Summer seeps back into focus once again, and Juno
spends the moonless nights bending back into spilt-
oil images of sleep, lulled slick in a gulf cradle. She
dreams of tar babies, dredged from the deep, sucking
thumbs and fingers that spread oceanwide with the tide.
Each cry is sunken to a slumber, whilst someone shuffles
and mumbles excuses about fishbones caught in throats
and how no-one knew nightmares could float on water.
Only with heels congealed together could the tar children
translate the runes of an ocean beaten back into the ruins
of its own past, or understand how casting hydrocarbon-cut
ruts in the sea floor has scarred the shore. And only Juno,
hand-on-heart-on-sleeve (-Queen of kerosene, the god-breathed
babies and every marine casualty that slept too soon-) can realise
why the insides of the earth were uprooted in the pursuit
of persistently plastic things.
Lake SongToday the skies are painted shadesLake Song4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All red and purple-blue;
Today the clouds are oil streaks
Of dimming silver hue
With flickers in the rainbow-shine
Like trout shimmering there
While flashing through to far-off shores
So beautiful and fair.
I breathing deep of quaking trees
Am trembling in the spray
Verdant and vaulting from the waves
Then wrecking o'er the bay
In shards, in shreds, in shells afire
With every drop a flare
That can be seen on far-off shores
So beautiful and fair;
I dappled from crisscrossing boughs
In lattices arrayed
Am half in the mid-morning sun
And half sheltered in shade
From leaves that meld with wispy clouds
Quivering in the air
As wind sweeps in from far-off shores
So beautiful and fair;
I wond'ring at the many greens
The dark and light combined
Brush over every humming bush
And through the stems entwined,
Am gazing at the many blues
Washing the water there
I think on you, and far-off shores
So beautiful and fair
For I admit I cannot see
Nor hope to
the life on mars.she unraveled the universe on a smoky july night, while fireworks crackled through the atmosphere and suffocated the stars.the life on mars.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
(she claimed they were like meteors, only sixty-two million times less ambitious.)
she was a girl with rainbows in her hair and oceans in her soul, but she swore she didn't belong here on earth. she'd found her faith in the heavens and promised that someday she'd dwell just beyond sight of the human eye.
(she dreamed of becoming a supernova, but she'd settle for a satellite.)
she said she'd be the one who found the life on mars, but until then, she'd just have to work on finding her own.
how it endssomewhere in my mindhow it ends3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a little girl is on a swing, saying
i can't wait, but i will.
who is she?
and somewhere else,
a man gets off a train alone
just as the rain stops
and the skyscrapers pull their wet shadows
off each other.
i sigh. it turns into a yawn.
it turns into a sadness.
this is a poem--
this never happens.
or rather, it's something that only seems to happen.
so don't worry.
it's practically harmless.
it should probably end:
nothing is certain.
but it won't. it will end:
"forget it," i say.
i have a crystal ball
of flashing synapses
in my head
and over and over,
this is all it shows.
maybe i should have begun this by saying
nothing can enter the source.
maybe it would have changed things?
too late, too late.
i sigh. how is it that everything
is so often defined as not everything,
how is it that destiny is not just another word
is there no going back?
i should have started this by saying
a crane like the na