GodGod is in her rocking chair,
wood creaking as she hums back and forth.
I want to climb onto her sun-warmed lap,
breathe in the smell of air dried dresses,
May breezes caught in her floral-print skirt.
Her hands are gentle as they stroke my hair,
her knitting going still when I rest my head
on her knees where her yarn was.
She holds me as I cry.
EasyWas there ever a girl so strange?Easy in Free Verse More Like This
Smoky hearted, grabbed at the waist
by the next passing breeze.
She keeps one foot stuck in
the wrong side of her conscience,
the other grounded in nothing.
She replaces men like lipstick, she
wears her promiscuity like
last night's perfume.
Strung OutConsider me hanging on the line,Strung Out in Free Verse More Like This
a dress without a body waiting for the sun,
vibrant when she's not heavy, waterlogged.
As a child, I enjoyed making orange smiles,
while wondering why we didn't have
a clothesline stretching from tree to tree
like I'd seen on the television.
I admired the way skirts became birds,
picked up by the wind they adored,
while sheets grabbed the wind like a sail,
and the clouds were always made of cotton,
and the denim sat like lead.
Now every time I put myself out to dry,
the sky gets heavy and breaks on me.
I am halfway towards being ready,
and then the rain rips me down again.
Maybe that's why we bought a machine
to wring the water from our clothes,
because there was no risk of bad weather inside.
A Cold RenewalMake me pure,A Cold Renewal in Free Verse More Like This
like today's unmarked snow.
Windows are glowing with warmth,
soft amber lighting that casts itself in
stained glass fragments across these
I want release to color me
in that same way,
relief washing me out and
re-painting me in golden tones
that only letting go could understand.
I unclench my tired hands and
trade bitter sighs for peace.
All I Ask (Beseeching the Crows)I want to sing to the crowsAll I Ask (Beseeching the Crows) in Free Verse More Like This
that they might stop their
raucous shouting to
cock their heads and listen.
Up in the branches,
where the wind twists her hair,
my voice carries soft and
is lost in their black-feathered throats.
Were they silent,
perhaps God would hear
the heavy note hanging
in my soul-twisting calls.
AdriftRun headlong into the wind with me.Adrift in Free Verse More Like This
We are only ships on this endless blue,
without anchor, north star, or compass spinning.
Find me as I lose myself with you.
HeavyWhen you let me goHeavy in Free Verse More Like This
by the side of the road,
please remember the string
that you tied to my soul.
I'm the balloon you inflated
just to let go;
the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.
Why'd you have to cut this
the thin wire trailing
from my heartbeat to yours?
Remember the science of
the desolate sky,
because the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.
SleeplessBack pressed against the wall,Sleepless in Free Verse More Like This
I stare into three o'clock nothings.
Left with watered-down thoughts,
exhausted, mumbled musings,
I have little more to do than
mutter myself down from
whatever fight I'm losing against myself
as the stars grow all the dimmer.
What about sleepless exhaustion
destroys the barrier between
stream of consciousness and the
AcheIt comes and goesAche in Free Verse More Like This
like an unwelcome houseguest,
leaving me with messes I don't need,
and it never shuts the door
to keep the cold out.
I tried shutting off the lights
and closing the blinds,
twisting the key in the padlock
and boarding the windows,
but as long as light can
seep through the cracks,
this shadow will follow
and dig its fingers into my shoulders.
I bruise easily, it knows,
and it revels in watching
me shift in discomfort
while it grips me.
Like a ghost,
it won't let go.
Names and ShapesI have broad shoulders,Names and Shapes in Free Verse More Like This
for a woman.
They call my body
"apple shaped" in that
my hips are narrow.
I don't keep time like an hourglass,
I am not sweet like a pear.
But I still hold the allure
of the forbidden fruit I am named for,
and my shoulders are wide
to bear the weight placed upon them.
Just trying to be my bestIt's been an easy day today. Your bag's packed and you're just waiting for the bell to ring so you can leave Biology. In ten minutes time - after afternoon registration, which always passes quickly and cheerfully - you'll be free. Finally. Thursdays do tend to drag on.Just trying to be my best in Emotional More Like This
But you love Thursday evenings. The recent ones, anyway. You already have the rest of your day planned out: read some more of that wonderful Douglas Adams book you loaned from the library yesterday, switch on the laptop for an hour or two (Internet first, to check your messages, then see if you can get somewhere with that one fan-fiction chapter that's been bugging you for days - maybe it's time you told them just a little bit more about Alex, to keep them interested), then that dreaded shower - yes, you know it's essential, but Mycroft is it annoying - and then... that beautiful little comedy sandwich that's been infecting your TV each week.
You wonder if they'll play the one where Russell broke his hand again. S
Mind PalaceShe steps into the room, closes the door behind her. The moment it clicks shut she relaxes, as if removing a metaphorical veil. The first thing she does is remove her long coat. This she hangs from the door handle, taking as she does so the blue 'KEEP OUT' sign from its precarious position. The Supreme Dalek glares out at her from it, waving its laser-stick. She opens the door, hangs the sign on the handle outside, and closes the door again.Mind Palace in Short Stories More Like This
She doesn't kick off her sneakers but carefully, almost tenderly, pulls them free, yet again surprised at the warmth there. She strokes the fabric sides - they are deep purple today - and brushes off some speckles of dirt from the standard white toes before she places them gently underneath her bed, beside all her other pairs. Apparently they smell and need washing, but she can't tell, but she won't allow it because she doesn't want to risk ruining them.
She dumps her bag of fresh library books in their place behind the dresser - she'll start one l
Goodbye, Sarah Jane SmithHis world was falling apart.Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith in Sci-Fi More Like This
Not her. Not now. Not ever. Why is this happening? This cannot be happening.
He'd just come back from university, to be at home for the summer holidays. He'd been looking forward to it for weeks. Weeks and weeks. He'd been full of excitement and tension, anticipating the final days before he could escape from Oxford and drive back home to see his Mum, his best friends, his little sister. His girlfriend.
There'd been a horrible guilty throb, as he'd realised that when he thought of her, he got ever so slightly more excited than when he thought of his own family. But then again, he could reassure himself, it was only human instinct that made him feel that way. Nothing to be ashamed of.
When he'd got home, let the robot dog out, gotten past all the delighted greetings and dull complaints from Mr Smith about having returned K-9, he'd been finally told there was a surprise waiting for him in the kitchen.
'Hey, Lukey-boy,' she'd beamed, the m
The Fandom SongA is for Alphabet in this poem you're readingThe Fandom Song in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
B is for Beeb with its shows all succeeding
C is for Can't think how I'd have survived
If D for Doctor Who hadn't returned in '05!
E is for EEEEE, the language of our race
For F is for Fangirls all over the place
And G is for Great, which our fandoms sure are
So be sure, H for Haters, you won't get very far
In I for Intentionally telling us that
It's not healthy to obsess over how people act.
But it's J for Just Joking, for they cannot stop us
If anyone dared to, why, we'd be upon 'em
Like an army of journalists, eager to ask
What it's like to survive without a fangirler's heart.
Anyway, where was I, oh yes, I remember,
K is for Kittens which certain actors are made of
And L is for Love which we feel oh so strongly
And M is for Mourning because we're so lonely
When a series has ended and there's nothing to watch
So we resort to YouTube and DVDs from the shops.
N is for Nothing could ever compare
To the passion we get from sitting back in ou
AlienDo you believe in aliens?Alien in Philosophical More Like This
Not little green men in flying saucers, of course not, but some sort of other life? Other worlds, with other beings, maybe like humans but nothing alike?
What many people fail to understand is that 'alien' does not mean little green men in flying saucers. True 'alien life' does not necessarily have tentacles or three legs or eyes on stalks.
Alien. People did not call those humans with the darker skin 'alien' because they were from another planet. They were perfectly human. They had been discovered, living on the same world. Originating from the same string of DNA. But they were not accepted, not at first. Because they seemed abnormal. They were alien.
So now do you believe in alien life?
Here's an example.
You see that girl, on the other side of the street? Can you see her, that one there - fiveteen years of age, purple Converse trainers, baggy jeans and cardigan even though it's midsummer. She should be boiling
The Curtain Rises - Part 3The following seven months were arduous at best, but definitely tolerable. After a time Liz began to find herself greatly looking forward to her Psychology lectures - even more so than previously - only to find that she often wished they would end sooner upon engaging what could hardly be described as "conversation" with Sherlock Holmes. And yet... slowly, gradually, she was starting to... Well, not warm to him as such, but she began to take a little more interest in his own thoughts, however opinionated they may seem.The Curtain Rises - Part 3 in Drama More Like This
Later, she would often end up doing her own research afterwards, only to find that he was right. As such, Liz found herself agreeing with him more often than she had ever expected. In turn, Sherlock appeared to act marginally less blunt, and was slightly more tolerant whenever she was wrong.
In his mind, she was almost always wrong.
They weren't friends; not by a far stretch of the mind. But they weren't merely acquaintances either. Their "relationship", for lack
The Curtain Rises - Part 2Liz had always liked English Literature. She enjoyed reading, enjoyed analysing language and structure, enjoyed writing, enjoyed Shakespeare and Orwell and all sorts of poetry.The Curtain Rises - Part 2 in Drama More Like This
Today, however, she simply couldn't focus. Throughout the whole of Prince Hamlet's sexist rant towards Ophelia (he was just scared and self-loathing, no matter what any of the other students said), her thoughts kept aimlessly flitting back to Sherlock bloody Holmes and his terrifyingly accurate deductions. How the hell could he know she had a step-dad or that he was a lawyer by looking at her? She buried her head in her hands, clawing at her hair.
'It's the freak, isn't it?' Sally whispered gleefully beside her. 'You talked to him for five minutes yesterday and you've been messed up ever since.'
Liz silently looked up, not trusting her own voice.
Sally clucked her teeth and twirled her black hair around her finger. She'd plaited it today, and for once she'd found a style that suited her. 'Believe me,' she went o
John H. Watson's List - Super-SkittyJohn H. Watson's ListJohn H. Watson's List - Super-Skitty in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Super-Skitty - her limits
Knowledge of Literature - extensive. Constantly quotes superior novels and plays, likes almost all genres of book and will devour both classic and contemporary novels with great gusto
Knowledge of Philosophy - vast. Annoyingly so - questions matters of life when she is feeling at a low ebb. Hypocritical about religion, however
Knowledge of Astrology - nil. On matters of astronomy, however, knowledge is immense and intricate. Adores the stars and believes in some form of brilliant life out there. However, seems to indulge in childish wonders of a madman in a blue box. Quite from where this fantasy has been compiled I cannot imagine
Knowledge of Politics - limited. Does not appear to take interest in such things unless in a satirical fashion, however at least grasps the basic gist of it
Knowledge of Botany - fair, but varied. Particularly interested in poisons. Knows nothing of practical gardening
Knowledge of Geology - reasonable. Has very
The Curtain Rises - Part 1Liz Strider was not an immaculate student by any means, but she was highly respected by student and teacher alike. She'd been attending London's top university for some months now, and she was only recently starting to get used to the place. Her dorm just off campus was cosy but it wasn't home, and the university wasn't as friendly as college, or as sweet and simple as high school. It was the sheer scale of the place that got to her.The Curtain Rises - Part 1 in Drama More Like This
But she had friends, definitely, and she got along fairly well with most of the teachers. So that was all right then. Through all intents and purposes, she was coping. On the surface, she was a studious, cheerful, popular young woman, destined to do very well in whatever field of work she chose.
Inwardly, she was craving something more. She couldn't place it, what was wrong, what was missing. Just a niggling, unnameable something.
The bell rang, signalling her next lecture, and Liz hurriedly shrugged off the feeling. She needed to focus, espe
My Fictional ValentineThe grass is black,My Fictional Valentine in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The violets are red,
No-one ever told me
That romance is dead.
I don't get to go on dates
Or kiss a boy at night,
For I'm still sadly single
On this day of Valentine.
A couple of boys have asked me out
But I've always backed away.
Not many meant it seriously
Or minded either way.
I've no interest in boys at school,
None of them are my type,
The men I like are old or gay
Or married or made up.
My fantasies are bad enough
In my literary life;
There's many a fictional character
Who's had me for a wife.
I'm happy being single,
For now at the very least.
Most teenage girls love Ed or Jake
But they're not quite for me.
Who cares about St Valentine
When I've a fangirl's dream?
I don't need a boyfriend yet
Because I've got TV!
Flowers can be very dull,
And chocolate much too sweet,
Just give me one detective
All wrapped up in a sheet.
Or maybe wrap a big blue box
With a maniac inside.
Never mind which one it is
For I'll still make him mine.
There's something about mad men
Fields of Golden WheatMy fingers travel through your hair, fields of golden wheatFields of Golden Wheat in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Your lips have the taste of an ancient salty ocean
My childhood dreams of blue birds and their heartbeat
The delicate fragrance coming from eastern lands
The softness of a delighted soul and your sunlight
The black wings of a sad night and my heart in your hands
I listen to you, the language of birds, the mystery tone remains
I hide you, inside my eyelids, between the layers of my heart
Where you choose to live; mixed with every color in my veins
The martyr of loveI am still a stranger in your battlefieldThe martyr of love in Free Verse More Like This
My rifle on my shoulder, I do not mean to fight
My tears cutting the ground under your feet
You stand over my bleeding body
Your cold blade dripping your way out
You stab me, once and twice, you grin at my wounds
My blood meets the thirsty salty soil
They greet, they hug, they mate under your feet
They give birth to the wild bloody roses
Where every wound blooms once more
I hear your walk away, leaving my barren land
I pray for death to push the arrow deeper in my back
To take the last hopeless breath, the last breeze of love
Bury me where the old moon was born
Let my head rest in a land of cinnamon and honey
When the white hands arrive with their remedy
Tell them all my birds left me and flew north
I do not wish to heal, I do not pray for cure
Battered and broken, my heart left the shore
Heart Shape PetalsThe broken flower travelsHeart Shape Petals in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
From the green abyss to the corners of my eyes
Sits there, waits the heart shape petals
Your angel suffers, a dying bird on my cheek
On my palms he drew the map
Don't follow me , he said, my heart is your light
When the sun comes up again, throw the ashes
Where the broken flower lives, as it lives no more
Where words dance, each in a different dress
Take my heart from the book of prayers
And let the river of sadness pours into my eyes
Thank you for your love, my last miracles
Thank you for your love, where God's secret lies
Black and White world VS Rainbow bucketThe gentle touch of your lips on my cold foreheadBlack and White world VS Rainbow bucket in Free Verse More Like This
The soft kiss on my palms, and I wake up, I look at you
You say It's morning, you say you love me, then you leave
Do you know what you leave behind , It is not me
Now, the world is black and white, all is concrete and ugly
The walls are pure cement and sand, and open land
There are weeds growing on the bed, and I cannot leave
When the black and white world sits behind my back,
Watches, waits for me to move, I will not move
Keeps taking all the light, dims my hopes and breathes my air
I cannot look, I cannot pray, I cannot make a sound
I crawl in bed, my arms around my knees, I wait for you
The day is almost dead, and now you are home
You take me in, you dip me in a big bucket of rainbow
You soak my every cell with every color that is
And I am me again, I can see again, I can breathe again
And my black and white world crawls down my legs
With his tiny wrinkled hands, he runs in shame
Hides behind the door
Where the world makes senseI let my head on this pillow, everytime I sinkWhere the world makes sense in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Where all the heavy thoughts rest and the heart sings
Between the world's pain and my agony, there is a place
I close the eyes, I breathe, I rise and I'm there again
I am the same child again,chasing the summer breeze
Carrying all the colorful dreams on my shoulders
With eyes as big as the waves, and a heart where birds nest
There, where every butterfly takes colors from my palms
And the thirsty deers come drink from my spring
There where the world made sense
I am there, and the restless mind is home for peace
When you told me joy had features and a face, my face
I touch the sandy beach , and one heart is never enough
I eat from every daisy in the white field, I drink the morning dew
I cover my cold skin with sunlight and sunflowers petals
Every now and then, I let my head sink, I let the world sink
I go back where I can hug the sky and walk on foamy clouds
Where I can be a little bird, that small daisy in a white field
AttachedI grew roots for my heartAttached in Free Verse More Like This
in every twisted chamber
Hitting the ground, deep down layers of earth
There, sleeps every vein I have
Born to Love YouGod created trees, mountains and seasBorn to Love You in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
God blew life in the soft tulips
And God gave life to all human soul
But, before and all
God made the seven angels his witnesses
And God said: This woman is for this man
Every little creature, every rock,
Every leaf on evey tree heard God say:
'Her heart will beat to love him '
And every light breez, every sun light,
And every heart inside every life smiled
For they all knew God makes no mistakes
We met love, millions of years ago
We met before the book of destiny,
Before the heart knew how to live and die
Before you and İ
İn a time before this time,
The day immortality began
When God said : She belongs to this man
I am a PoetYou ask me who I am , where did I come fromI am a Poet in Free Verse More Like This
I say: I am a poet, I was born out of the blazing silk of my words
My heart is an eternal rebel, since the dawn of creation
I'm the master of my own words, the keeper of God's secret
I'm the story of that rose shivering on the freezing hill
I live in that oasis of light, in a world beyond your world
The stars stare at my hopes, and hell trembles between my fingers
The night dreads my pain, the morning sleeps on my pillow
I create my words from the tissue of my veins
I weave the images from the feather of my eyelids
I wash my sins away, when I repent between the lines
My words move slowly between your palms, climb to your soul
To hug that poet, who sleeps between the chambers of your heart
When the world is mud, thorns and empty substance
I create my own, where the ground is basil and the walls are none
We Walk Through Heaven's DoorLet your hands walk through my dusty roads tonightWe Walk Through Heaven's Door in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Follow them, on my vast lands start your fight
Let me kiss your kiss and drink your salt and wine
In your kind darkness my drops of sweat shine
Those wonderlands are yours, and what is yours is mine
Don't make me wait, come and touch every spot
All those mountains and hills, I'm saving you a lot
Kill your thirst, swim in my stream and fill your pot
İ am no longer a body , and you are no longer a soul
We are one lonely beat, was found for once and all
So, cover me with your skin as we hear the ultimate call
Breathe In my ears, and let me ask you for more
As we roll under earth, we walk through heaven's door
A Letter to my FatherFather,A Letter to my Father in Letters More Like This
Today, It has been nine months and nineteen days since I left. Three thousand kilometers of distance. This is the longest period of time that we have been apart. I miss you, I remember you all the time. Suddenly, I remember things I did not think about before, suddenly they all keep jumping in my face, so many memories, some warm, some cold, some tough, and some just beautiful.
Do you know that I can remember the days you were teaching me the Arabic alphabet and the French Alphabet. Whenever we have a guest, I run to them and start shouting " A,B,C,D,E,F......." They smile and ask me who thaught you all this, I run to you, I hug you and I say " Dad taught me".
You took me to the beach, you taught me how to love it, this is why now the beach is where I find my soul, where my heart feels at home, where I feel a very strong sense of belonging I dont quite understand. We went to
A Farewell to MoleskineI chose not to water your Oleanders.A Farewell to Moleskine in Free Verse More Like This
There was a reason, but it has dried in
my mind like those magenta petals.
You stopped buying me first editions,
when our friends claimed they made
me seem pretentious.
They didn't know about the ketchup stain
on Catcher in the Rye, or the highlighter
I took to This Side of Paradise.
They didn't know anything about being the oldest
book on a shelf- The fact that dust yearns for the
attentive breath of life to set it free.
Words are not prisoners in a flower pot.
They do not die with ease.
I remember now,
I didn't water your Oleanders
because they made you seem
Love and Her Father's Liquor CabinetBecause the ocean was half a world away,Love and Her Father's Liquor Cabinet in Free Verse More Like This
she almost always put a little something in the lemonade.
We would pretend that the suburbs were Paris all summer,
but my feet refused to leave the still frames of reality.
There were secrets the street lights could never reveal,
promises that the girl next door would break.
We were all in tears by September.
She often put a little too much faith in the lemonade.
StainsI.Stains in Free Verse More Like This
You burned the eggs and wrote scripture
in the shadows of a lunar eclipse.
I haven't slept for years, but it took the far away
scream of a siren to convince me that
the moon is a liar.
Body bags are filled with better men.
There are rivers of oil where I can't seem to break
The mirrors that flaunt your reflection.
You couldn't dare me to walk across that bridge.
You couldn't ask me to sit through a full sermon
and still remain humble.
I'll never be home before the street lights come on and
you'll never hold my hand in the day time.
We're both clinical fools.
"The only difference between poison and medicine is the dose "
Yet, our intentions were never good.
Lately I can only focus on how many days we have left
before ash blankets the entire sky.
Before my free will is no longer an issue.
I feel the most sympathy for the birds.
The ones who will fly across an ocean to find nothing on the other side.
Just a life boat buried in the sand.
You made those clou
Freedom and the Summer of CarbonThere's a band aid on her ankleFreedom and the Summer of Carbon in Free Verse More Like This
bleeding up her thigh and onto her neck.
A right handed whiskey bottle slung
over her razor wire shoulder .
Today, the train track was a catwalk .
Nothing about her hair or her lip ring
cried out "Help me". No, she was the
collective pulse and the sun couldn't set
until she took off those shades.
I couldn't leave until I found her eyes.
She shouted over the whistle of an approaching train.
"Sometimes you can find lumps of coal tucked between the rails.
They turn into diamonds. Didn't you know?"
"I think that process takes a really long time."
"Time is all I have and coal."
We stood off to the edge as the beast rolled by.
I think we both thought about what would happen
if we stepped in front of the next one.
Both in different ways.
"You should leave. I feel silly being watched."
"Diamonds right? Aren't they all about pressure?
"And heat." She smiled and removed her sunglasses.
MurmurI only knew you in the whirlwind of summer.Murmur in Free Verse More Like This
Your likeness was cut from the shadow of an oak tree and
I buried myself in cigarettes. We imagined black ice-
prayed to fall through.
This is a prison of familiar days. We visit my many faces but
they are silent in your presence.
Can you smell my tired mind?
Labyrinths filled with people who refuse to fight you.
Meet me on the surface.
It will never be enough.
I know exactly how much a
blind heart weighs.
I Never Stole a Traffic ConeThere has always been a silver lining.I Never Stole a Traffic Cone in Free Verse More Like This
But if you melt it down
Shape it into a bullet,
It will still kill a werewolf.
Not all dogs chase cars.
Weeds don't know they are killing the Petunias
Even monsters die
The only difference is that they don't get flowers and nobody wants what they leave behind.
Things could be a lot worse.
Eight black balloons
The last Raven feather
A gray hair floating in your tomato bisque.
Knowing that blood tastes like dimes.
I still believe that there is good left in our world.
Orange things make me laugh.
I knew a girl who thought that ghosts only
haunted mansions in
Promises to KeepDusk, the late ashes of summer.Promises to Keep in Free Verse More Like This
The earth is loose beneath my feet.
I strain my eyes, searching for the
piercing glare of headlights.
Help is not on the way tonight.
Is it common for man to pray for
blindness, so that he may finally see?
An owl has stalked me for miles,
circumnavigating the merlot sky.
She taunts me with the answer.
I come upon a car, abandoned in a ditch-
The same one I crawled out of hours before.
I want to take my shoes off,
to drown myself in that cornfield,
to let the tallest take me.
But, then again
DriveIt was going to be last night.Drive in Free Verse More Like This
Instead, I drove until sunrise and
had breakfast at a truck stop diner.
I spent the day, lost in a nature reserve
on the frayed edges of a small town.
I made myself forget its name and,
somehow, I found my way back home.
I once told you that the world
would become a better place.
I intend to keep that promise.
High WaterIt took eleven weeks for my stomach to stop turning.High Water in Free Verse More Like This
White water reality, broken hands, splintered paddles.
If you ever felt inclined to place your head against my chest again,
you wouldn't hear a heart beat over the roar of water in my lungs.
If you ever desired to wrap your arms around my waist,
you would find that there is far less warmth to hold onto.
For now, we drown in the perfect darkness of canyon waters.
Like infant gods, we chose to carve these wounds into
the very foundation of our fabricated universe.
Deeper than the initials of youthful lovers.
Further inward, past yellow bone and soured marrow.
We've been forever spoiled by the idea of our own greatness.
(But when my body washes upon the shore, I will always try to find you.)
CruxI’m only sure of two things:Crux in Free Verse More Like This
I still carry pieces of your cross on my back and
lilies were your favorite flower
Those last three months-
A silent drive home from the mall
purse full of stolen makeup
Dinners with my family where no one
bothered to make the conversion
Endless hours spent looking at paint samples
and I was smart to not buy the brushes
The line at the liquor store blended
with the lines on the road
At the same time with you
Then it was summer and you talked me into a country drive. We stopped on the side of the road to watch a cow giving birth in the center of a pasture. But, the calf never rose to its wobbly legs or felt the heat of the Indian summer….it never tasted dandelions.
The mother stood by the calf’s body
long past nightfall
and I stood by yours
long after that
Was this what we meant when we said forever?
Everything I Want To BeI want to write something poignant and moving.Everything I Want To Be in Free Verse More Like This
It will make you cry and make you laugh.
It will win awards and give me prestige.
It will change someone's life.
I want to write something hilarious and heart-wrenching.
It will make and break relationships because of realizations of truth.
It will make you think differently than before you cracked open the first page.
It will make you want to read it again and again and again.
I want to write something that means something.
It will be translated into language after language, copy after copy published.
It will be read in schools, but the kids will actually enjoy it. Even after the thing is analyzed to death.
It will make them stop to think.
I want to write something real.
But don't we all, I suppose?
If You're the Bird Today while I was driving home, I looked out the window and saw two birds, a hawk and a smaller bird, of whose type I was unsure. The two of them were flying together, the smaller one above the hawk.If You're the Bird in Philosophical More Like This
It was interesting to see, the small bird flapped and flapped its wings frantically, but in that way it was able to go just as high, if not higher, than the hawk. It was also able to fly just as fast.
The hawk, on the other hand, flew in lazy circle, hardly flapping its wings and gliding for most of the way.
It was interesting. I wondered about it for a while.
Birds of a feather flock together.
Or do they?
Please Define Normal For MeThe teacher standsPlease Define Normal For Me in Free Verse More Like This
before the class,
a ruler in one hand.
She taps the board
and pulls out a marker,
writing in black ink
define normal for me."
Not a sound.
Not a peep.
All the students do is stare,
glassy eyed and hardly there.
Once again she taps the board.
Class is still in session."
blink their eyes.
They look again at the board.
She writes her question down.
"Please define 'normal' for me."
No one dares to raise a hand,
but at least they are awake.
The timid girl, who sits in the back,
her hair dyed brightly purple and green,
barely dares to raise a hand.
"Ma'am, do you mean,
from the dictionary?"
The teachers smiles,
looks at the class.
"No, I don't,
I mean to ask,
what does normal
in terms of people's tastes.
What is a normal person,
It's plain to see,
in the faces of the "popular"
what they'd like to say.
But no one wants to offend
this amazing teacher,
Bored and LazyIf boredom is the mother of all invention,Bored and Lazy in Free Verse More Like This
then laziness is her under-appreciated
but particularly persistent
We Live in HousesWe live in the houses of the pastWe Live in Houses in Free Verse More Like This
with the sentiments of now.
In trees of glass
with houses of metal.
We ride our clinking dragons
and steam-powered horses
and fight with whirring swords.
Play the times,
but where are we now?
It's too hard to remember when.
Sometimes it's better that way.
So we fight as we're told
and learn what they teach
and quest for the answer someday.
The castles are created from
iron and steel.
Clothing is created.
What is natural?
We learn how to tell our lives from ancient books
and long ago movies.
Who knows the meaning of self anymore?
Let it be.
Sometimes it's better not to know.
And we'll quest for the answers someday.
JulyJuly was a month of a capella nights,July in Free Verse More Like This
Red heliotrope scores and blanched
A singing of nerves hewn to a cry:
Fine-tuned and skinned
To carpal ascension,
The quivers of a quaver
Due to crescendo.
I hovered, wing-like, on the husk
Of schizocarp dreams,
But sprang forth undone
By chorus and synchrony.
AugustAugust passed by with drunken gait,August in Free Verse More Like This
Lurching forward, sprawling back,
In drunken haze.
Days span by,
Loomed long, snapped shut
A mousetrap traipse, and
All along, all alone:
Nights and haunting,
Dawn and wanting.
LandscapesI watch your spine twist into a tree,Landscapes in Free Verse More Like This
Gnarled and branching, the furled
Eyebrows of craggy sea;
Your feet valleyed, knees hunched
In ragged sirocco winds.
I watch the tundra whisper winter
Down your sternum, fjords unravelling
Each rib, curled like foetus coves
In terracota wombs.
The earth lisping
Across your folds, sifting
Your pangea mold.
SeptemberLong before winter,September in Free Verse More Like This
September took shelter
In white night cataracts
And sleepwalkers drifting
Through anti-gravity snow.
The sky dipped over blunted
Like cold-tipped fingers
I wafted through the hours,
The days, the weeks:
Airless, so airless,
UnfoldI stepped out of my skinUnfold in Free Verse More Like This
Today, and it snowed
Knee caps and shoulder
Blades. I spotted a few
Moons and oleandar too,
Jangled and jarred
Along my collarbone; I
Wondered at the finches,
The swallows and warblers
Moulting like fledgelings
Between my seams.
I stood there for a moment,
For you to unfold, dislodge
From my spine, but
Only a flicker-whisk
Of your fey smile
Slid round my ribs.
BaptismFollow you down to the red oak treeBaptism in Free Verse More Like This
As the air moves thick through the hollow reeds
I will wait for you there until someone comes
To carry me, carry me down
Third star to the right,
straight on 'til morning,
Follow not weeping violins
nor crooning of angels' voices
but the breeze's whisper
to the bay
to die and rise again
Payne's Grey IPayne's GreyPayne's Grey I in Free Verse More Like This
dolphins take refuge as the
ocean is whipped up into a frenzy beneath
Gulls' screams join in chorus
with the howling wind
as the waves collapse upon themselves.
The salt spray and
smoke from the sinking galleon
Fallen sailors find their clothes suddenly heavy
as icy torrents drag them beneath the roiling surface.
The air tingles with the electricity of
a lightning bolt waiting to strike.
Prussian BluePrussian BluePrussian Blue in Free Verse More Like This
uniforms clothe men sleeping
under a brooding, moonless sky
beside a deep, dark forest.
It is swathed in almost silence;
only the hoot of an owl
and the creaking of the nearly frozen river break it.
The air tastes brisk and clean
with a hint of evergreen
and fresh fallen snow.
The watchman shivers as he looks into the sky
and feels as if he's drowning in a cold pool of water
or perhaps floating upwards into the nothingness above him
on the back of the North Wind.
Letter to a FriendTo a friend,Letter to a Friend in Emotional More Like This
I know I don't actually know you "in real life," but that doesn't matter. I've seen your creativity, insight, strength, and wit shine through both your written work and our conversations and have come to consider you a friend (I hope that isn't too forward).
I know you like bees, flowers, and pie for your birthday dessert; and that you don't like making a fool of yourself or people asking you what book you're reading while you're reading it. I know you love your family very much (at least, most of the time) but hate some of the things going on through no fault of anyone's.
From across the internet I've watched you chronicle ups and downs, good days and bad days, and for the first time since I've met you, a birthday- on which we've made the decision to run away to the Mediterranean and build a palace (or was it a mansion?) from all those pennies we wish we hadn't earned.
By the time you read this, it won't be your birthday anymore, but since you've been down lately I hoped
In A Past LifeI was a Spanish woman,In A Past Life in Free Verse More Like This
thick hair & loose hips
browning under the Latin sun.
I tied his eyes in knots,
his belly in nooses
from which his every
I laughed like water falls
& excited his fingertips
And my sigh -
on his lips
left him undone.
Birth of PoetryI tangled my fingers in the curls of the universe,Birth of Poetry in Free Verse More Like This
pulled. The earth fell out: round, warm, spinning.
Awkward and shy, she wondered how she got here; how
a rock that got wet and grew moss could be significant.
So I scooped her up in my fingers, breathed her scent:
(lilies and oceans and ozone and forests and fish and birds
and whales and rain and the empty elegance in wolf howls)
death and life. I found chaos
and knew beauty.
I Am Not UglyWeek 1I Am Not Ugly in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"Why don't you like your body?" Kim asked. Noticing my eyes focused on her pen, she laid it and the yellow legal pad on the table between us. I didn't bother to look at the scribbles there. I knew what they would say.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Low self-esteem. Victim of sexual abuse. Negative self-image. Possibly related to attacker's verbal abuse.
"Because I'm ugly." My fingers found a strand of lanky blond hair and started to twist. Around and around, tighter and tighter. Eventually, strands were pulled from my scalp, but I didn't notice. Pain had stopped existing.
"Why do you think that?" Kim shifted in her chair, recrossing her legs and angling her head to get a better look at my down-turned face. I don't know what she thought she'd find there.
"Because it is true."
"Who told you that?
b. 1954He was born to Elvis' first dreamy hitb. 1954 in Free Verse More Like This
& a mother who preferred it to the soft
thumpthump heartbeat of her infant.
He was born to a world suffering
the high-pitched paranoia of racism,
the tight lows of war ad nauseam,
the slow slaps of McCarthyism.
He was born to a family familiar
with the thrilling thwack of ringed
fingers on flesh, to a father
who fled the frenzy in favor
of that mellow bass at death.
He was born the first son
and assumed the lead, progressed
from child to man at percussive speed;
Papa was a father long before me.
But seventeen brought new birth:
old guitar instilled young hands with worth.
Those first strings were steel teachers;
they taught him that blood forces to life
Born to the timbre of darkness meeting light,
to the cadence of right versus might --
my father survived jittery discord,
and unwound the melodies only a heart
like his could have found.
Desolateif you are parched tonight,Desolate in Free Verse More Like This
the pale of your lips cracked
with thirst for that which
will not claim you;
if you hunger -
the deep and shallow collapsing
into slivered vibrations;
if blindness rejects you, says
no, watch now.
this is the way of it;
if you are breathing the world
into cinders, inhaling each poison
on purpose, striving
toward an apocalypse
because that is chaos
we can categorize,
then you may understand.
Five AMPre-dawn darkness again, seething, quietFive AM in Free Verse More Like This
A monster hugging the city
How heavy, how suffocating it is
The clock has run down on time for dreaming
A void between night and morning
Ready to swallow everything up
A time for old men's reflections
On love, and loss, and sorrow
Oppressive black sky, you eat everything
But the all-night diner
Where lonely old men sit
Drinking coffee at five AM
StarsFat and fuzzy stars tonight, baby blue comfortStars in Free Verse More Like This
Singing lullabies, soothing through the cold clear night
Promises of spring;
Windowpane lookers, abandon your sorrow
Wide-eyed children, believe that tomorrow
Unseen, the stars
The stars still sing
Eventthe stars are sharp and the wind has teethEvent in Free Verse More Like This
night is black as a bodybag
clanking, buzzing sounds surround
as the wind has its way with the town
dimlights from the hospital over there
cheerios in milk over here
the night ripped in two by the surgeons saw
the dreamless, the hopeless, the flawed
(sometimes the world shifts on its axis
and never settles right again)
the wind is sharp and the stars have teeth
chewing through the darkness
eating dreams, vomiting dust to the ground
the surgeon pulls his mask down
nothing more that we could do
goodnight, i've other things to tend to
bonesaw and flatline sounds surround
as the wind has its way with the town
EastMy window faces east, I sit at my desk and stareEast in Free Verse More Like This
at the headlights crawling west past the backlit buildings
Sometimes I watch from the roof, looking west
just to get a different view, but it's all the same
Days come and go, nights come and go, but I stay
There's a place by the ocean I dream about, early morning mist
grey water, grey skies becoming blue, solitude, stillness
I keep a key in my pocket with "love" written on it, and wonder
what it might unlock; maybe trade the city dust for ocean spray
Someday, one day, but not today, it's never today
I close the blinds against the rising of the sun and go back to work
But the key in my pocket is warm against my thigh, it says "fly"
But I wait; fate will find me in the right place at the right time
It always does, somehow, and my brain whispers to my heart
to be patient, good things wait, but farther down the line
HeadacheMy problem is a headacheHeadache in Free Verse More Like This
No, not a headache; an explosion inside my brain
A wailing, a crying, a lost soul's screams of despair
A jackhammer serenade, a machine gun sonata
Black canvases painted in a frenzy by a madwoman
Darkness at noon, dreams flying by in fast-forward
Crippled children trying to run from a sharp-toothed monster
Confusion of languages, religions, philosophies, all idiot blather
Chainsaw grinding of bone, packs of mad dogs yowling and howling
You see, don't you?
My problem is a headache
BirdtalkI know that the Starman will be waiting in the sky, butBirdtalk in Free Verse More Like This
I don't think about it under these fluorescent lights
I remember when Wal-Mart wasn't a hospital, the world
wasn't a graveyard, and my spine wasn't ripped out
Didn't the birds used to talk? I seem to remember that
Before The Stars FadeThe world has grown smaller, more insignificantBefore The Stars Fade in Free Verse More Like This
Little men run about in the darkness, screaming their inanities
Quiet listening is abandoned in favor of shouting louder
over the top of one's neighbors
Dreams once soft and sweet have become meat for them
to tear apart and grind with their teeth, demanding recognition
But no one is ever fulfilled, untiringly grasping at shadows
The world shrinks a little more, and children grow up fast
I can hear the screaming and shouting from my bed, through
closed windows, all want to make their presence known
Seeing like a cat, hearing like a bat, I feel the need to go out and
shout with them, to howl my existence, to
eat fresh dreams
Dying is no way to live, but its all we seem capable of doing
Last one on earth, please turn off the lights
Maybe we can remember one dream that hasn't been mauled, one last time
One smile before the stars all fade and we're left with nothing
and become nothing
Ghosts of ChristmasIt was a dog and butterfly summerGhosts of Christmas in Free Verse More Like This
But a cat and canary winter
Christmas is white, blank, cold
No joy in old bones
Somewhere there’s a lighthouse
Sparkling water, moonlit night
Waves crash shore and break
Like brittle old bones
Angelic chorus sounds
Blown away upon the wind
That could be distant screaming
Useless as old bones
Deep candy cane sleep provides
A mote of relief to the tired
The dead live again in my dreams
Re-animated old bones
LionA lion paces beneath my window,Lion in Free Verse More Like This
occasionally looking up.
Should I let him in?
The day is bright and mellow,
he looks harmless enough in this light
What do you think?
Oh. He's eating the postman.
AnswersDreaming in excess, climbing trees in the nightAnswers in Free Verse More Like This
Lowering your guard when the sounds of the trains
Almost wake you but don't, instead filtering in
Becoming long black snakes worming their way
Through the darkness of dead crowds standing
Shifting from foot to foot, thinking about things
That only the dead think of, smiling, smiling
Smiling at the depth of the distance between worlds
Watching for signs of tree-climbers questioning
Whispering answers for those who have an ear to hear
We stormed the beach and found shells and stones
Tracks leading into the sea under moonlit skies
The moon smiled its secret smile but remained speechless
Knowing too much to tell, what a burden it must be
We wore neon coats against the chill wind and danced
Knowing that all was as it should be, better or worse
That everything changes and is hammered together
By the clocks which make the sun rise and set on time
Keeping watch over the dreamers and their dreams
Bringing us ever closer to the whispered answers