O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;
pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers
to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
AsphodelA beckoning:Asphodel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watercolour sky shrinking,
too late, teeth fall; pearls
from a broken string.
Blink and the moon ignites—
but the sheets are still
ApsaraFind me sunken into theApsara2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,
waist-deep and pink
in sunset, and we will cry:
for three-faced elephants,
for the dancers threading grace
between their fingertips—
until I dress in the heaviness,
a sarong of heat.
MuselingRed wine ramblesMuseling2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
curdle the air, but still
you dream; half-moon
body curled in the
lamp light. I am leaving,
I am leaving, choking on
some holy word—
the floorboards creak,
a sonata for my
whilst you, hair tangled upon
the pillow, are spun gold.
PeonyAlone, but forPeony2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the red boots marching
cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama
in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
Prelude Nocturne;Prelude2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
a wave across the sky
I am lovely and lonely in
the night, shadow-
shackled to the mountainside
and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.
Little FuryThe storm throws you to my door, drenched and bloodied, god-light dimmed. The crest of the hill is underwater. You have no boots.Little Fury2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Morning dawns cold, clear, a watery gold. You are gone.
SerenissimaSlumbering sunsSerenissima2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
take a midmorning nap;
alleyways bright with
their smiles canal-deep.
Nightfall brings guides:
stone sighs and dead light,
(never so alive).
Con AmoreCicada violinists,Con Amore2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and champagne flutes
an autumn concerto.
SeashineSacred skinSeashine2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where heavens and ocean
an imprint on salted lungs
of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
Memoir II1.Memoir II2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
setting my bedroom alight:
Spiders hang prone;
many legs askew.
as darkness bades the
garden to sleep.
FableMoon cloaksFable3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(and you are)
left clad in only
the softest of
Memoir1.Memoir2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Vert velvet slippers
and a mouthful of water –
dragonflies flit by.
Twin evergreen canes
support the elderly bridge;
an unsteady crone.
AThere is birdsong andA3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sun-drenched long limbs,
sprawled across India green;
wet hair haloes and
a restless route scrawled
up arms and over hands.
There are blueberry smiles,
feet upon dashboards,
and city-light fireflies...
then there is you.
Always, always you.)
Sky EyesDesert hands tell talesSky Eyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they
(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).
But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;
and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
for there is still sun in your sky eyes.
expired warningsI hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day whenexpired warnings2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive
at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave you naked and
seizuring on winter's doorstep as the little lamb who
never loved enough.
they haven't paid you for the dreams you pawned years ago
in exchange for a little sleep, no, they tied more rocks to your
ankles and begged you to fly - they said they traded your
misformed hopes for something a bit more fitting, a solid
dose of reality with a hint of self-h
Alla RabiosaScorpio's tail slips low—Alla Rabiosa2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a mari usque ad mare:
from sea to sea
over me, a devil in the sky above;
and the Huntress
peels dawn like an orange.
amongst the stars:
the Mad Queen's cosmic mirage.)
(c)loves and (c)loversi am no artist's muse,(c)loves and (c)lovers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am no ship's harbor
i am no hero's weaker heel,
i am no good earth's flower
i have never been your lover
nor have i ever kissed you,
- not even once
though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
kissing you and to be kissed by you
i can never profess,
not even confess
even to myself
i stay standing, (b)raving the cold nights,
pretty much batty and bootless
the absence of you weighs metric tons on my
shivering nape, and
you dam(n) me with
you are my river's boulder,
and undefined border
with thanks to salingerAudio version.with thanks to salinger2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear
DebussyRestless under theDebussy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams quiver like
a long-lost muse.
The WindblownLike a sparrow, you perch; toes curled and brown eyes wide, arms tinted blue with cold. In my haste to reach you I trip upon your shoes, tiny little things still drizzle-damp and abandoned at the door.The Windblown2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"What are you doing?!"
Your legs stretch for summers as you stand, dress billowing from you like a white flag of surrender.
"Ava, come inside. Come inside. Please."
You stare past my outstretched hands and step away—a sparrow, caught in a downdraft.
Euros' InfernoIn a smoke blanketEuros' Inferno2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mistaken for overcast, he
wraps us –
the wind, undoing –
and the old gum tree writhes
against him, but
we sit inside
with our homes on fire.
SundropoSundrop2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
rise and rage
with a new year
untamed and glorious,
pulling the years together
with a snap of your fingers.
but some days you are languid,
stretching like the summer dusting
of freckles along your forearms, the
slumberous strands of hair shuttering
your sky-eyes from the morning light.
on these days, I think the earth spins
slower and the birds sing a little
quieter. on these days, I look
at you and I think:
lovesong for sailorboyRead aloud and explained (somewhat) here.lovesong for sailorboy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have always loved words as you love the sea
but i have grown to hate
because i have always had words
but never for you.
words for everything
but i have words for this, so
i'll take them
one by one.
the ocean was your first love and
i could always see it in your eyes.
most would call them blue--just
like a swell over a sandbar
blue like the spring sky over a poppy field.
but i don't think anyone
got as close as i did and they're not blue
not shorebound and
they're gray like the steelbellied sea itself
like the horizon at dawn as it
hems you into an impossibly vast canvas
like a demarcation line
or a promise.
one you always chased.
maybe i had a streak of ocea