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.
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.
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.
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.
Papercuts and RecollectionsI had forgotten your love lettersPapercuts and Recollections in Free Verse More Like This
until they cut my finger when I
grazed the bottom of my drawer.
Folded crisp and neat,
some of the ink had smudged like
the crimson filling the whorls of my thumb.
I could hear your voice clearly,
saturated in the scrawling script.
You promised me forever,
now forever's gone.
Lost in that rush of reanimated feeling,
I could almost remember
the way your cheek felt resting
warm against my hair,
how you smelled like home.
The traces of you lingered like
the last hours of yesterday
before turning to the smell of dust
and the feel of paper too dry
to write on again.
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.
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
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.
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.
Half-Past a Different Kind of BrokenTrauma looks like my kitchen clock.Half-Past a Different Kind of Broken in Free Verse More Like This
they are dead
and the second hand stutters,
I imagine every inconsequential twitch
is a plea for the freedom
it will never see again.
When its futile heart finally gives out,
I won't try to fix the timepiece
because after all its wasted sufferings,
allowing again such a disjointed tic
would be a deeper level of cruelty.
Honorary Sun SpotI'm going to tie a stringHonorary Sun Spot in Free Verse More Like This
around the new dawn
and make the sun my balloon.
I won't let go as it keeps rising,
I just need warmth and this seems
like the best way to find it,
the day taking me with it
round the world.
Take a picture of your rooftop,
and I'll wave as I go by.
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
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
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
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
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
MotherMy longing for you weakens my heartMother in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All the birds are silent as we grow apart
Will you leave me to my destiny
Will you come and find me
I spell your name in fear to remember
Scared to feel thorns in my pulse, burning rush
Your radiate face is more than a figment
Yet, impossible to touch
Mother,why didn't I kiss your hands everyday
Do you hear my prayers mother, they are all for you
I send them every morning with drops of dew
What words can do, when my all is still so few
You are here, when it rains on those hills above
When I imagine your laugh and feel your love
When the pink clouds come by, stand by and pass
You are here when my heart is a pile of shattered glass
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.
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.
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.
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.
I am a Hearta dichotomy of existence.I am a Heart in Free Verse More Like This
fragile and yet power filled;
breath fueling while stimulating life
defined by more than physiology, beyond biology.
life and death dividing,
pierce me with metal or word, and I bleed.
the ultimate unseen witness to each thought and every action.
broken, still healing in fused pieces the world leaves behind.
I am a heart.
worn for the world to see,
I shine from behind a child's eyes,
cherish lovers with passion's kiss
and comfortably wrap friendship with love.
I am more than a muscle, my numbered days unknown.
I take in all you see, that which you embrace,
and hold tomorrows aspirations safe in this dark mysterious necessity.
I am your heart.
DesirousDesirousDesirous in Free Verse More Like This
enveloping and preserving, we
fall into an endless age of
and stars that blind
behind closed eyes.
a great gulf churns,
filled with a cacophony of our secrets,
needs and desires separating the press of today from
and your dark eyes that bind me.
Like A Mirror.
the sweetest sighs
layered upon, drenched within and
my soft skin
with your rough hands and resonant voice-
hearing my heart's desire through the shroud of this surface.
See. Behold. Embrace. Entwine.
Invisible wingsIdle invisible wings;Invisible wings in Free Verse More Like This
yet to be used.
Far from impotent,
waiting for a favorable wind, a tidy stream of air.
Strength was built upon pain,
while love and devotion built devotion and love.
Longing to drink from the rim of sovereignty,
yearning to fly-
we wait, my wings and I;
and dream of the flawlessness found
in deep, soul felt happiness; it's undeniable promise
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.
Jan FinleyI was born in Seattle, raised in Seattle, and will die in Seattle. My father is a retired priest at St. David's Episcopal Church. He raised me to be a good Christian girl, but it didn't stop me from getting into some trouble. When I was fourteen I met a boy named Derick. He was sixteen and confident, which made him sexy despite his acne and twiggy build. He popped my cherry in Mineral Springs Park, after I let him beat me at Frisbee golf. It was an uncommonly sunny day in March, and a kiss by the oak tree led to a rushed and unsatisfying introduction to the wonderful world of sex.Jan Finley in Sketches More Like This
Six weeks later, I noticed my period was late. I told Derick and he fled the scene, literally. He moved to Portland to live with his dad. I envied him the option. My mother died in a car accident when I was six. My father sometimes wonders if he had re-married whether or not I would have ended up in the predicament I did. I always tell him what ifs are pointless. If I didn't get pregnant, it would have been s
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.
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.
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.
AbrasionsYou cannot say your heart has stopped in your chest, because it is pounding so hard and so fast that your hands clench and unclench to its erratic tempo. So much so that your eyesight blurs and your breaths cross in many wanton attempts to succeed a normal pace. Your chest compresses and all the weight from your knees lifts you seek the floor as a companion, a burial place.Abrasions in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It is here all things unmend. The sweating palm is limp and the phone is unhanded. Your eyes lift. But the words are too heavy to liberate you.
Get to the hospital. There's been an accident
You see, in your mind's eye, myriad accidents, all of them begetting blood and terror. Confusion and mayhem. Loss and still water.
She's in the ER
What has your youngest sister survived? What has she witnessed? What does she now have to overcome?
Who has everyone turned into?
Dorian GrayIt has taken tenure in my body,Dorian Gray in Free Verse More Like This
This absolution of conceit.
Wafting parlor music seeps in,
And it prickles along my skin
And echoes out the banister.
O hear you me,
My only I:
I am compulsion raw and severance deep.
I am wild and vain,
I am auspicious and fetid
And I have entranced myself to the brim.
You can take these scowls,
Your virtues and your decadence,
And reap them of me dye by dye
As die I never shall.
The poet's umbilical fortuity,
The artist's wish to be courtier
It is intolerably transitory,
As I have seen all around me laid to dust.
You've left me cavernous and spoiled,
And I my own despaired.
Unlike the many shades of age,
I will not evanesce.
I will simply, by knife's blunt cunning,
Be taken swift and left demised.
Apate :Of Greed:I lived in a fire.Apate :Of Greed: in Free Verse More Like This
I crept through the spine
And now ġearufolm, solid:
For collapsing, disclosure,
Have I not honored enough?
I played keeps in a jester's hands,
With a winsome sin, I smiled.
(Along, along, treat them on!)
They hissed for it, yearningly,
Clipping their claws on their coins.
They argued, they begged
They wailed until those umbilical coveters
Were sinew and soil
In a casket of coffers.
I Am A TreeI am a tree of only seed and rootsI Am A Tree in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Without the sun upon my foliage
A kingdom underneath the blackened soot;
A buried thorn; a sage of night's mirage.
You are a garden blossomed all year round.
The winter's gust would never shake your limbs,
For color stays the monarchy you crowned
And rainbow buds do open, glowing, slim.
Young glory tints the shelter of your leaves
Whilst I drink of the sky's grey tears and grow.
Equal in strength, but beauty you bereave
From me, and bask in semblance lush, aglow.
And I as roots will brace your muddy feet
For eyes of man to glimpse your floral treat.
Best FriendsFingering the dirt salt woundsBest Friends in Free Verse More Like This
In an attempt to make man out of misery
And this is a failure
Speaking like a fine earthworm
Digging till the despair is undersized
And this is a failure
Seeking refuge in cave uncollapsed
To find the welcome spreading of sisterhood
And this is a failure
Parading in lachrymose gleam
I am flawlessly executing my contentment
And this is a failure
Meeting middle ground, only
To find solitary, inconceivable neglect
To my singular, insufferable regret
And this was your failure.
Sir's TheologyBlack, grey, and blue in the rainbowSir's Theology in Free Verse More Like This
And pink and gold in the rain,
Bloodied and bruised at the wedding
Cleanliness oft dyes the stains.
Rose-fashioned cheeks on the corpses;
A child who reeks of cadaver.
A memory upsets the future
And backwards we tumble thereafter.
A scientist hollers, "My God!" as
A preacher cites psalms of Einstein:
"Science without religion is lame,
Religion without science is blind."
Truth is assumed by believers
In ignorance masked as blind faith
"An angel!" he clings to the lie
When, truly, his reaper's a wraith.
These murkiest sources reveal
What mirrors so often condemn,
That hindsight beckons man forward
To never be sightless again.
Going BarefootGoing barefoot is notGoing Barefoot in Free Verse More Like This
food for the desperate;
air for the gasping;
touch for the trembling.
Going barefoot is
juniper moss and ostrich fern;
the voice of the raven;
the vision of an owl.
this is the important part.
Thistles don't want company;
and rocks will wait in ambush
for your toes.
Never leave the trail.
Going barefoot is
the sway of limbs,
the scent of man.
Sometimes, I pull on shoes.
Time, Spaceand nameless things-Time, Space in Free Verse More Like This
the cold, the unrepentant
are nearer to God than I to you.
Petty deaths spring forth
erupt like cannon fire
till I am down, I am on my knees.
and the shades of thought bleed thick
as wounds; take what is offered you-
ten miles from the trenches, myself,
into your arms.
There Hid the Sacred HollowThere hid the sacred hollow,There Hid the Sacred Hollow in Free Verse More Like This
gentle with fern and old pine
where my heart thrived when it was very young,
when life stretched endless like a yellow day.
I understood that whatever I was not then,
I would yet learn, and I would find.
But it was false anticipation-
mark of the very young
who sleep too long through a yellow day,
who nestle in the succor of the sweet fern
and old pine, of the sweet yearn
I Am EyesI am eyes, that unholy duality.I Am Eyes in Free Verse More Like This
Six deer browse in the dead field;
they have survived late fall
with its plague of men and guns.
I am eyes, turned to the pregnant sky.
Pockets for hands, thick wool for feet,
but eyes take the cold head-on.
There is clamor far away. There is cackle and bray.
There is grumble and wine, there is raw meet.
Handed over like suspicion, taken like greed,
like gold from the cocoa-skinned hide-hidden
lesser gods, there disappears my world.
But I know nothing of this. I am sleepy.
I am eyes.
water processspirit-sloth and overdone;water process in Free Verse More Like This
wonder-lost and undercome:
you are trenchant, sweet love.
you planted early mornings-
I lay coffee-drunk and thin;
the stir of your brown hands.
Water For TeaHe was glossy with sweat,Water For Tea in Free Verse More Like This
he was streaked brown.
He was unexpected.
Something simmered on the stove-
I turned it down for he was there,
in the half-light by the door;
I think it was water for tea.
The air went thick and fathom blue.
There were fingers in dark curls,
there was wet and bubbling warm,
there was bread with butter for tea.
He grew like mystery, like turgid weather.
I drank him like hope, he left pearls on my lips.
There were fingers in dark curls,
there was water for tea.
Witches MarketMidnight fell like an old black bird;Witches Market in Free Verse More Like This
I meant to wait for you.
There were tables rich with
amethyst and pearls,
and fragrance by the fistful,
mint and petrichor.
I meant to wait for you.
You were gliding through the haze
with your knotted bag half full-
shadows flicked their tongues
above your knees;
you meant to look for me.
Moments ran like mice;
a silver pot, a cup of tea.
She stank of vinegar and thyme-
the hand was hers, the heart was mine.
Her iron eyes reflected flame;
she took my lungs, she took my name,
though you had meant to look for me,
and I had to meant to wait for you
amid the black salt and the brew.
Ash for the handle,
Birch for the brush,
Willow for the cord that binds the twigs.
DecemberMy hands areDecember in Free Verse More Like This
black with soot
and shiny with grease;
the embers lie low.
The air grew teeth.
We sit alone
in our separate dreams
and entertain the shade
of what was lost.
Our fingers will twitch
with phantom pain-
our mouths will run dry.
Everything I am,
by a fistful of
words with teeth;
as heavy as gold,
as poison as lead,
and I can't write poetry
because I said I would
leave you alone
and you never leave the lines-
you are there between them,
StiraboutThe ghosts of a thousand CeltsStirabout in Free Verse More Like This
haunt where you lie, heavy as time,
dream-quiet in ochre and grey.
Warm as an October moon,
soft in a pink-cheeked dawn,
you wake to honey and cream
under my hand, butter melting
into a strawberry kiss,
The Cat MistookNo zebraThe Cat Mistook in Free Verse More Like This
but the old mare;
she bumps the stall door,
seeking sun with blind eyes.
only the neighbor's dogs
drunk with escape;
the ferment of wet woods on a grey day.
The cat mistook itself for a tiger,
not knowing that the caught vole
was one of a vast race--
that it had happened before.
The Golden FeatherThe Golden FeatherThe Golden Feather in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Midsummer nights revive old tales
And magic long forgotten
Mayflies above the lake play scales
Clouds reflect fields of cotton
Cool soothing breeze tangles the hair
Of green carpets on meadows
Where butterflies and poppies share
Kisses nestled in shadows
So lightly, barely touching ground
There hand in hand walk lovers
Two hearts by velvet sunset crowned
Reign over fragile flowers
Like ancient phoenix earth is burned
Each evening in sun's tether
For us, fools, meant to crave and yearn
Stays love - a golden feather
After The RainAfter The RainAfter The Rain in Free Verse More Like This
Soaked with holy rain
Of love you were making
To the shell that contains
The real me
Enraptured by your face's reflections
Gleaming in puddles resting
On my country's torso
I can't tell where you end
And I begin
Nor where these tears come from
And where sweet moments go to
When they say farewell
To what you left in me
And what you took away
Out of drawers
Those I didn't know I had at all
A VisionA VisionA Vision in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Celibacy of thoughts
Hurts mind just like broken glass
From violated window panes
Makes sore feet bleed in extasy
When all the effort put into
Melting sand and cooling it
Is turned to waste
By just one kiss of
An eager stone
On a million perfect flaws
Of what once was
A single flawless perfection
Disturbed dreams dance
Those will never come
While shameless innocence
Is patiently laying herself
Down to sleep
Ribcage SymphoniesRibcage SymphoniesRibcage Symphonies in Free Verse More Like This
Passion has no taste
It just burns your tongue
While fingers compose symphonies
On nameless ribcages
Black widows don't label their pets
Other than with dull numbers
Making disappointing engagements
Worthwhile episodes of a life wasted
On selfish charity, superiority
Damage of clarity of human heart
Dwelling frightened, cracked and murky
In its fragile shell
Soul is a carton box
That implodes in heavy rain
While rays of sun in a marmalade jar
Mean a miracle, if piled up carefully
A man says he met God in the subway
What most don't want to listen to
See, mirror is the one true friend
As it always smiles back
A horse's eye mutely reflects old days' glory
Unnoticed by those who just recklessly ride
Into sunset full of screaming colours
At dusk that for a change might not be followed by dawn
Charcoal NymphCharcoal NymphCharcoal Nymph in Free Verse More Like This
Last night I saw no stars
Only dreams those whipped
The canvas of my bedsheets
Eagerly like sugarcane
They say heavenly lanterns
Upon sinners do not shine
But don't my lips pray fervently
To your lips every night?
There's a thin line between
Damnation and salvation
And it feels strangely tempting
To dance across it blindfolded
Dressed in just faith
In that your heart is true
I'm condemned, bareheaded
And longing for you
A pagan nymph
From ancient wise books
No good for your prophets
An angel for you
With purest charcoal
You've drawn wings on my back
For your passion's painted
With red and black
A Heretic's PsalmA Heretic's PsalmA Heretic's Psalm in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
His features shows me every face
I meet in crowd of empty space
Long ago I have lost control
Merciful devil, bless my soul
My eyes give his figure a smack
Leaving stigmata on his back
Draw him nearer's my only goal
Merciful devil, bless my soul
Darkest night to me reveals trace
To Lune's cold silver ears I howl
Deliver him to my embrace!
Merciful devil, bless my soul
Here I stand, hailing deities black
Begging them to hallow my prowl
Make him mine, let me meet my rack
Merciful devil, bless my soul
Beyond HorizonBeyond HorizonBeyond Horizon in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Come, take my hand, sweet little boy
Let's run as fast as lightning
To place filled with laughter of joy
From nightly visions frightening
Keep creepy shadows on the walls
And ghosts behind the curtain
Go with me soar through open door
To where there's no more hurting
The morning star will bless our skies
No vicious smirks of demon
Dust on the road will heal the eyes
And poor wounded heart bleeding
Don't be afraid of anything
Hidden beyond horizon
Just make sure to not loosen grip
On hands of angels guiding
Where Storms Come FromWhere Storms Come FromWhere Storms Come From in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
In these arms of mine you would
Have searched for light of dawn
But in the game of love
Every king becomes a pawn
Knight's shiny armour rusts
And burning passion chills
What previously saved our lives
Now recklessly kills!
Who is now to say to me
Oh, sweet brother of mine,
Where storms do come from
And what truth dwells in wine?
Love - both punishment and crime
Slowly fading away
A riddle meant to stay unsolved
Until our dying day
Tell me how to stay whole
When it rains in my soul
Things go out of control
After first teardrops fall
Fears of past standing tall
Bleeding wounds they recall
When the last raindrops fall
Will we then lose it all?
Lose it all
I feel these walls closing in
Meant to bury hope aloud
Since when do our bed sheets
So resemble shroud?
All those sleepless nights
Your flesh arches over me
You pin me with your eyes
But what is it you truly see?
Each step on path of pleasure
Hurts more than jaws of hell
In every kiss we share I taste
Abysmal InfinityAbysmal InfinityAbysmal Infinity in Free Verse More Like This
Night - for moth an opportunity
Close to abysmal infinity
Knows quite too well
About the swell
Of souls knocking at gates of hell
To trade their singularity
For any kind of quality
Of human spell
"Love" you might tell
Where lonely ones in couples dwell
For moments of eternity
In halls of tainted clarity
'Till sounds the knell
And poisonous smell
Of thorns helps rose's passion quell
Stitched LipsStitched LipsStitched Lips in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In front of you I'm powerless
Wind's breath lost among willows
So it's only my pillows
To whom love I can confess
Sometimes I wish to disappear
My voice and hands do tremble
Then all I do is ramble
On my own and swallow tear
So bitter compared to a kiss
I once hope to deliver
Sultry, yet tender quiver
Will provide that I won't miss
Until then I'll keep my lips stitched
Reveries my heart feeding
At least dreams won't be bleeding
For their treasure have been ditched
The WorkersTheir happiness was amputated upon waking,The Workers in Free Verse More Like This
before the first fibres of sunlight trickled across
the cities early morning traffic,
at the bus stop the flesh carved robots wait,
stone faced, briefcase-anchored
with black and grey suits they stare so straight
forming neat mechanical rows
pawns on the chessboard city bus,
fates seem wrapped in glossy yellow metal,
monologues barked by a dull black dog
drowning out sounds of crow and sparrow
overrun by the misty fog of gasol
Wild RiversGrandfather:Wild Rivers in Free Verse More Like This
Boy, come read wild rivers with me,
learn more than those books can teach.
Boy was young.
Grandfather had skin
of the baobab tree
and knew of muddy oyster banks
where fleshy pearl houses hid,
how best to clutch and gouge them,
knew patterns of mullet mouths
when they kissed the surface
of deep pools
how they differed from the shimmering chaos
that were whiting schools
down by the rivers flaky delta.
Before sun or at dusk
among wisps of woven water
they would venture,
dodging mosquito swarms by feel of air
against humid skin,
and in darkness boy learnt
how the rivers midnight can show
and how fisherman's net can harvest
with a single expert throw,
or what ochre rings around the moon revealed
of the coming morning tide.
Boats chugging engine,
letters missing from its faded plastic case,
petrol fumes waft across sullen air
when they stalled and drifted with soft momentum
amongst the m
the last day of the WorldOn the last day of the Worldthe last day of the World in Free Verse More Like This
(of all things)
wine favours the liver
far better than brandy.
there were so
many goddam miracles,
we couldnt seal
Those bricks wept
of hand-blood and
still they poured unstoppable,
through stained glass
Well, You grew my feet,
to fit certain sandals.
But hot blotches and spacious
sizes are no substitutes
Objective philanthropic growth?
Oh please, life was never so big.
I declare, what lit
and talking box,
will tell me what to think again?
What sediments of wit and foreplay
slip though these waves of mud?
Show me your chaos and
I will present to you
the gift of perfect order.
History built stone sticks,
from earth and wood,
to hold our strange desires.
Sand to glass,
towers with cloud views.
and we forgot to ask,
if they could ever disappear.
(Turns out they could.)
Painting NightsDear Emma,Painting Nights in Short Stories More Like This
The truth is I'm not a painter.
The truth is I followed you here from that flower shop on Whitmore Street, two and a half months ago. Please, keep reading.
You actually took my breath away when I glimpsed you holding a bunch of lilies in your slender hands at the flower shop counter. You stunned me. That's never happened to me before. I was watching you turning the bouquet left to right, you seemed in awe of the flowers' beauty. Your eyes, your perfect smile, the way you held yourself. It was not a conscious decision to follow you here. I think I was in a trance. I know how it looks; I know it sounds like a movie.
When Miss Vale said it was only the beginning of the painting course, lesson two, I signed up, paid my money on the spot, just to follow you into the room.
Just to keep seeing you. Just to be near you. I know it's crazy.
I stared at the back of your bobbed hair for that entire lesson. In my mind I was shouting for you to turn around
RevelationInfiltrated by a dream state,Revelation in Free Verse More Like This
I wept openly
in the orchard that day,
with blood and fruit,
amongst the summer grass.
I remember a feeling of dread,
a lie, once said,
can seize the heart captive,
against the inner self,
first lie, a sweet taste
of first misery.
My Father shouting
from the porch,
my arm still bleeding
from the cuts
made from my hurried descent
of a gnarled oak tree,
that had straddled the river
for eons, the one
I had been forbidden
from climbing since birth.
In fear, I had blamed
the terrier pup
for my bleeding gash,
the small fawn dog
who had never before
anything but saliva and
from his jagged
The startled moment
my Fathers gun,
and the small
high whimper of the dog,
I realised in shaking tears
that not all things are easy
to set right.
And in a half walk, half run,
I took to the house,
wide-eyed and pale,
to face the corpse
of my making.
HotelRoom 17Hotel in Free Verse More Like This
Lying bent on his back,
Tethered loosely to life; red-rash arm,
thinks of his mom sometimes.
Tethered hard to the bed, rubber cord,
arms like maps, veins thick as rivers,
3 years since rain, the drought has cracked the ceiling.
Ticker tape at 45 degrees,
a blue/white prize winning sashay
for the door frame,
Crime Scene Crime Scene Crime Scene
encompassed the chalk body,
that sleeps flat and silent by the entrance, the doorbell
is broken - gunshot holes in the wall like spat tea leaves.
Her daughter, Eleven now can't see her homework,
earring's like her two blown lightglobes,
she shares the space, shitty, hazy single room, split beds,
nylon orange quilts. Identical. Mom's heart surges after nightshifts,
hand shakes that she is safe, extra gold lock on the door
at dawn, tired - exhausted,
Rusted apples in the kitchen.
He once owned a house, Eve
Fall In Americathey say our forefathersFall In America in Free Verse More Like This
fought for this
the state of these
united shapes today
would break their
Anomalous lady in
we are kinless - and foreign
but your dress
I clutch vainly at its hem,
with its infinite stars,
that never cross.
this freedom counts costs
reviled and resized
to slip through cracks
on dollar signs
in your own confines?
The telescope's ring
has worn thin,
searching for midnights,
scanning the skies
but what's worse
is what we're worth
or at least
what we make work
some god's implied blessing
while the world
bears its worst curse
you open your purse
for blood and oil,
while the kids
take a clean flag,
wipe clean your
hold the harbour torch
an inch higher
and let it shine it brighter,
for all the nations to see.
PreparationsgloamingPreparations in Free Verse More Like This
back-burning the parched winter fields
a red rouge pair of spot-fires flicker
the darkening skyline
a thin smoky smudge
of gloss pink
the farmers girl preparing
for a night on the town
The RefugeeI am stained the scent of mandarinThe Refugee in Free Verse More Like This
a skinned raw lumpen,
stripped to drifting bone and sea salt
leaking marrow and fear by equal measure,
human only by
some undiscovered innerness,
and all around the Alto's stern
is midnight's shaking water,
void of path and light,
it laps the boat like viscous oil,
stains the wood two eras of blood,
written by the dogma flags
of poverty and hope.
The Captain laughs,
tonight, we escoria are guided by stars,
so let them burn bright,
and I will stand the bow
tonight, a beacon, and hold
my companions tighter than
my Cuba held me,
clutching at my smokes and fraying
And when I arrive to your stars
and to your stripes,
do not be waiting, I beg,
let me slip into your room unseen,
let us never meet,
- and be us forever strangers,
and the infinite space
between all souls
keep us free.
The Hearse at Finley's Fieldi.The Hearse at Finley's Field in Free Verse More Like This
the clouds are
above all things
single and voluminous
but as they sprawl in the distance
abandon their attempts
merging to a static wallpaper haze
a fence of mist
on the far horizon.
In the low field
fat as Finley's black bull
an old hearse sits on blocks
long retired from hauling the dead
slowly breaking an addiction
to the weight of human carcass,
and around the funeral-car
strewn across the plains
like old cup lids,
left by unseen, other-time others.
You and I we'll shovel them up,
churn them back to the soil
in the hope of growing something again
a thing unthought-of, unremembered.
We are alone, you and I,
digging to bury our faults
in slender makeshift coffins
drifting along these telegraph-pole corridors
in a hearse we carved for each other.