Let Me Down GentlyI never said I was an angel,Let Me Down Gently in Free Verse More Like This
I'm a feather on its wing,
so when you let me drift
on the next western current,
let me fall slowly down,
I promise I'll land softly,
though you will not find me
where you left me.
Clair de LuneSometimes I imagineClair de Lune in Free Verse More Like This
That when Debussy penned this movement,
He hesitated with the title.
"Clair de Lune" moonlight.
Perhaps he didn't have the courage
To add an "E" to the end of her name,
Immortalizing her in music.
The gentle chords pouring
From his piano describing
The peace with which she slept.
"Claire of the Moon."
She was the embodiment of dreams.
Indeed, with her hair spread out
In messy ringlets across the pillow,
The pale, spring-time glow
Of the moon hanging heavy
In the April sky
Gently casting its cool light
Through the half-open window,
Onto her faintly blushing cheek.
She looked ethereal,
Like a flower that opens for moonlight alone.
Imbued in this music is the tenderness
With which he desired
To move a stray curl from where it lay
Draped across her brow.
As the movement sweetly closes,
She gently wakes, smiling,
As I gently wake from the scene I created.
This exists in my imagination only,
The romantic in me dreaming
With the fictional Claire.
Summer LoveWhen I was eight I hated summerSummer Love in Free Verse More Like This
It was juice-box sticky
and every day I scraped myself
off my sheets
and poured my body into a glass.
I don't remember peeling my legs
off a wooden chair come June,
but how our hands were damp with nerves
when we held them,
how the AC on the bus was too much
so my scarf became your blanket and
we ate curry with my parents
before I fell asleep on your shoulder.
Or when you told me not to swim too far out
and the ocean was too cold,
how you got sunburned and I bit my tongue
so hard holding back
"I told you so"
that I swear I bled,
your eyes reflecting the fish at the aquarium,
how you teased me
when I couldn't stay awake through any movie.
You bring comfort to the heat.
I have forgotten other summers.
For the Man Who One Day Holds My HeartI want to be your Summer girl,For the Man Who One Day Holds My Heart in Free Verse More Like This
and August thunder.
I want to be the Autumn hearted,
colorful and always falling,
And I could be your Winter bride,
clean and innocent,
blushing on the snow,
while my spirit smelled of Spring,
smiling with the lilacs,
every kiss a crocus.
We'd be more than seasonal lovers,
but steadfast as the years and
ever-dancing with the Earth.
Visible SpectrumYou reminded meVisible Spectrum in Free Verse More Like This
of a stained-glass window
that sits perched on its wall
beneath my stairs at home.
Daylight doesn't measure its colors,
it only scatters them down
on the hardwood floor
when the sun breaches the
And daylight didn't measure you,
I saw you and all I could think on
were your mosaic eyes,
the spectrum of your blush;
that they were solid
and more than patterned light.
I cover stained glass with my hands
and colors vanish.
I cover you with myself
and you are vibrant.
AgedThere's a picture of youAged in Free Verse More Like This
in your tuxedo,
new wife on your arm and
you're only nineteen and
I am ashamed but
I wonder if she's pregnant.
And you are twenty two,
clothed in your bridal halo,
with a new-found surname
I can't pronounce.
We don't talk much but
I am happy for you.
You are headed towards fatherhood
and I've never met the mother, but
once you took me for a date and
things didn't click.
I can't help but wonder
if things were different,
if I would be
staring down that plus sign,
asking what the hell I was going to do
with two lives.
Even I am moving forward,
one year closer to the real world and
no longer playing dress-up
with my grown up clothes.
If my life was a chalk drawing,
the people in the background
finding lives that are too different
to fit into mine.
I feel old,
looking at my past like its over my shoulder,
and innocent simplicity
is the wind knocked out of my lungs.
One day I will wake up and stare down the morning,
wondering when hours turned
More Than KismetThe world was a quiltMore Than Kismet in Free Verse More Like This
and we matched corners.
Somewhere in our patchwork
was the same thread,
It did not matter
that we weren't quite complimentary colors...
border to border we matched
and that was all we needed.
Willfully LostIn these whispering moments,Willfully Lost in Free Verse More Like This
I take your heart in mine
and hold it fast.
You make me forget
things like flower names
and cloud shapes,
where I came from
or why I'm going,
as my thoughts are filled with..
Every crack in the sidewalk
carries your name,
and the grass rustles soft your wishes
to tangle your fingers in my hair.
My breathing drops
like the autumn wind,
would that I could,
I would throw myself into it,
will myself towards your southwestern
your dusty mesas abutting
my mountains green.
BrevityMy mind is butBrevity in Free Verse More Like This
a house of cards,
its contents wildly flung;
and if madness is
a monster's mouth,
I'm caught upon its tongue.
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.
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
On the edges of your lipsMy soul flickers back and forth in your presenceOn the edges of your lips in Free Verse More Like This
As I drag myself on the floor slowly, barely
I surrender to the voices promising your love
And the dream of tomorrow bringing me your scent
You do not see me nor my fading shadow
I am right here, down here, take one look at me
I lay my wings over your shoulders, I take the rain for you
I kiss the flock of birds that flew over you
I swallow every thorn in your way, I turn your path blue
I hug every glimpse of fear in your eyes
I live on the edges of your lips, I steal every word you speak
I sleep between your ribs, I sing along with your heartbeat
I built my shrine between your palms, there, I pray for your love
And yet, you do not see me nor my fading shadow
Your grip on my heart drying up every drop of life
But I will not leave, if you tear me apart, I will love you
If you burn my dreams, cut my veins , I will love you
If you put out my candle, my golden sky, I will love you
If you rip your seed out o
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
Under The Murky WatersChildren of the first sinner,Under The Murky Waters in Free Verse More Like This
Dragging his filthy soul at his tail.
He does not dare to look up
Where God's face resides.
Walking the earth; a pack of wild dogs
Scavenging the last pride,
Snatching what is left of mercy.
Down creatures, leeches in the murky waters.
Always on the move to a new pure land,
Hunting down every butterfly wing,
Slaughtering every young green bud.
Children of the massacre, slaves of the cannon
You have your hands down my throat,
Your knife sliding down my spine,
You say: "Keep your smile and greet Humanity"
I swallow the rocks; I wave for my brothers
I fell, I died , they walked over me,
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
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
Soak My Feet In WineWhen the sun and the earth were in love, ever youngSoak My Feet In Wine in Free Verse More Like This
I was born on a full moon with silver clarity
I'm that woman who sleeps on olive groves
Who makes angels fall in love with men's daughters
And lets herself be tricked by your sweet spells
Who obeys the very impulse of her heart
Do you know who I am, where I came from ?
I live where stars grow bigger on a light breeze
Where butterflies were once flowers
Where God blessed my garden in Eden with peace
There, where I lay on a cloud softer than foam
When the day splits into two halves, you see me
My steps are as light as those of a chamois
My hair running wild; wings of an evil crow
My mouth has the roundness of a precious ring
Cheeks, two fields of roses blooming again
Under my feet grow trees, and remain ever green
You need my palms, you seek my blood and fear
Before you crave for more, grant me what I wish for
Kiss the ground before me, show me your loyalty
Borrow the devil's wings, bring me bouquets of stars
I want that purp
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
When love rhymesYou said God made me perfectWhen love rhymes in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The roundness of my hip, the softness of my lip
Gentle is my tip, I take you on every wild trip
So tighten your grip, squeeze me and take a sip
Get on my last ship, it is time to tear and rip
My waves keep slamming your shore
Burning every sense in your core
Your nails on my side, always coming back for more
They take over every land, as we celebrate this war
You said God made me perfect
The size of my breast, where you built your nest
My wild birds on your chest , always flying west
The short breath is your guest, dancing, will never rest
Every touch gives you my best, closer to my final quest
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.
Accidentat the corner of boone trails and owenAccident in Free Verse More Like This
she learned the brevity of flight:
glinting bumper for launch pad
trajectory approximately 5 feet
across the median.
as proud, as swift
as any prima ballerina
but the landing
this I keep for her -
the listless weight of limbs
defying gravity, the beastly beauty
of a body bouyant before
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.
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.
HomecomingThe dead do not need a homecomingHomecoming in Free Verse More Like This
or an invitation -
they do not wait at the door
to be let in
or cross the threshold
with crossed fingers
and a prayer.
They do not wear their best clothes -
no poplin suits
or brocade skirts
to catch upon the lintels
or dust the marble floors.
They will not dine
upon your crusts
or marrow bones or salted eggs
nor steal the heavy coins
from out beneath the rugs .
They'll only tarry
in the hall
and make soft moan
amidst the wind
wondering why you turned
their faces to the wall
and put out
your best china.
beautyand beauty just happensbeauty in Free Verse More Like This
if you will wait
long enough -
the sound of plants
breathing under the snow,
of red petals
and green leaves
bursting on the vine
and climbing up over the roof,
the sight of rain
washing the hillside -
on the window
and the scent
that buries the laundry,
from the line
on a june morning
and how it feels
on your skin
when you first wake up
lazy with the last dream
and how she tastes -
supple and fragile,
just for you.
SeptemberThe summer was so hotSeptember in Free Verse More Like This
the dogs stuck to the sidewalks
with the newspapers
and the black metal cans
everyone left waiting on the curb.
You could smell it
in the glass pitchers
on table tops,
and the sheets that never
dried on the clothes lines;
the canvas beach bags
mothers dragged wearily
across the sand
and the ice cream trucks
melting across the highways.
Children felt it open
up the windows at night
and find a corner
of the bed to smother,
while fathers baited it on hooks
or mowed it down
in flat, dry stripes
as if begging each other
And the crickets just hummed
beneath the corn silk
and the dry mouth
daring the cats to play
hide and seek -
searching for September.
WarningThat dark twinge of stormWarning in Free Verse More Like This
unbalancing my left eye -
lover, take warning.
I came through the back door,
unhinged and savoring
all your little pieces.
You said you loved my twisted english,
the way I broke words apart,
just like daddy's enemies.
So slide me under your doormat -
I miss those dirty feet
and the disconnect
of your tongue.
You know I love how you
waste my evenings
and bring me the dangerous bits
only a lover could swallow.
Hansel and GretelWhat kind of motherHansel and Gretel in Free Verse More Like This
sends her children out
without their shoes or coats -
nothing but a trail of crumbs
to find their way back home?
They all find their way here.
Maybe it is the scent of holidays
freshly baked inside my kitchen
or the sight of spice drops
glistering in the rampant dusk.
The children like my house -
my rich ginger carpets
so easy to get lost in
and the pink pillows
puffed and glossy with promises.
They do not notice me watching,
how my fingers slip around their wrists
to measure their meager lives
or how I can smell when
they last ate their supper.
They only smile at me
and beg for more chocolate
in greedy little voices
and ask if they can see
what's baking in my oven now.
Snow WhiteSeven more mouths to feedSnow White in Free Verse More Like This
(For this you left
your father's house?),
shoes piled by the door
and grimy rucksacks
full of coal.
(He promised you a diamond)
They keep you on your toes
with their uncombed hair
and their untrimmed beards
and appetites like young bulls.
That dress of yours
has seen better days
and your hands
are worn out -
bloodied starlings in your pockets.
So you cook and clean
and wait by the window
each morning for them to leave,
polishing your apples
and dream of what the huntsman
is hiding in his box.
MonsterThat bony smile across his faceMonster in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
a sight to take your breath away
as time erupts and slips its pace
a noose of stars that went astray
slips down the sky to find its place.
He said he roamed too far afield
that all his pleas were spurned and shunned
the hands of god refused to yield
They only left him dazed and stunned
with fleshy wounds that never healed.
So now he haunts the fields and fens
and calls the narrow ways his home.
The secrets that no man can ken,
the buzzards bleat a wretched drone
and turn their backs on drowning men.
Room 313His head felt likeRoom 313 in Free Verse More Like This
the floor of a Greyhound bus
and he couldn't remember
the name of the breasts
poking into his back -
two idle threats
poised to wreak havoc
on his morning.
He could feel
her broad hips
and wondered if her name
and if the smell of her perfume
was too early for him
and why the carpet
made so much noise.
SeptemberSeptember's but a whisper,September in Free Verse More Like This
a curl of autumn
on your cheek
or a wanton leaf
in the tawny gold
and the amber scent
succulent and slumbering,
off your skin
and sends my restless senses
Mad ManI think I lost usMad Man in Free Verse More Like This
in a glass of scotch -
going down like
every mad man
I ever envied.
Why did I believe
your lips tasted
sweet and heathen
like the heather
I laid you in
that last night
I came home?
I had a thing
for damaged women,
and you could drink
your mother's last words
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
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
Sculptor's TouchSculptor's TouchSculptor's Touch in Free Verse More Like This
Does it bring shame
To promise to paint
One's beauty beyond compare
But instead shape
A brand new piece
Flawless and too far from true?
Is it okay to measure treasures
And treasure measurements
For shallow pleasure?
Will dignity overcome gravity?
How many smiles costs serenity?
Sculptor's hands temptingly touch with disguised brutality...
Fair TradeFair TradeFair Trade in Free Verse More Like This
What if yesterday is all we have?
One day worth ten years
In auction of souls
Time's both merchandise and currency
Sometimes less is more
Though it never seems enough
Still we're keeping score
While our purses are starving
In time of need I love you
Hard and even harder
Of the bills to pay
The Blind Man DancingThe Blind Man DancingThe Blind Man Dancing in Free Verse More Like This
May smooth curves of your lips be the pillow
On that my soul can rest in peace
Warmed by your breath, the only thing to lean on
When our human days run out of sun
In streets of town now emptied by cold drizzle
I saw there dancing a blind man
Who compared creator to narrator
And turned my longings into snowflakes
Sitting themselves down on shoulders of us both
Now closer to each other than ever, forever apart
Like dreams those came true long ago
Still haunting what is left of us after they left
Maybe he's right that love is born of decay
For sometimes it is nothing more
And still we keep it in our inner pockets
As "nothing more" is more than nothing; well, is it?
He said that he was frightened of my beauty
And he's the only one whose words are true
For what his orbs didn't see they cannot forget
He smiled and vanished in the wind which now I am dancing in
FayrouzFayrouzFayrouz in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Your soul is silent but not still
Like storm upon lavender hill
It comes from where wild horses run
To find the place where sleeps the sun
Warm winter nights go darker blue
Just like the peace I find in you
Together we sail heaven's plains
Direction changes, aim remains
Sky's wastelands and your ebony eyes
Lead me where passion multiplies
There we can hear the seahorse sing
And find the price of everything
Sands of time swallow human fate
Sweet juicy flesh is just a bait
For star-dust from the milky way
Tomorrow's memories to repay
"Love knows no border" I've been told...
Just two warm palms heart to uphold,
Eye of the chain that sets you free
When in the swimmer drowns the sea
Amber WarsAmber WarsAmber Wars in Free Verse More Like This
If stars were up to lend an ear
To just one question in a million years,
Would you ask, if they'd seen tomorrow smiling
Or how brightly you shine in their light?
Upset sky, a cauldron of blue milk boiling
Contains all "what if's" and words left unsaid;
Drawers overflow with letters
Those will one day be
Written with help of runestones
And planetary constellations
That according to some
Will put minds into the right order
Bald-headed princesses fight
Over each other's scalp
To much liking of armed jewellers
Scavengers in these amber wars
Children with empty gaze
Looking from behind trellis of barcodes,
With unclear expiration date
Genuinely identical identities
Wielded by phantoms not to be fathomed
- Thou willst not chew their names nor spit them out -
They put autographs on branded bullets
Sent to kiss sad smiling faces
Those attempt to clean the orbit
Of conscience from all quandaries
And make silence a crime
Pawns die and kill for life in peace
The Sixth DayThe Sixth DayThe Sixth Day in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
What if the sixth day was a huge mistake
Chariot of fire without a brake?
A vision gone wrong, attempt ruined by hand
Of the bad seed, the ungrateful man
The twisted breed hastening their own fate
Born of lust, then only brought up to hate
Shallow caskets given too much free will
Beasts on two legs always ready to kill
Heavens keep looking for righteous souls
But madness is getting out of control
Clock's ticking louder than conscience and fear
The horns are blowing when end's coming near
Night is hungry, graves are burning
The bell tolls for death returning
Its slaves will rise
To blind the eyes
Of filth been living in disguise
Seas are boiling, black ships sailing
Air infected plague retailing
For bribing fate
It's much too late
For hellhounds sins are tasty bait
Both earth and sky have their order sublime
While among people the only law is crime
Brother stabs brother, arms have no chance to rust
Flesh made of mud will soon crumble to dust
Divine miracle of soul bright a
Bridge Over The RiverBridge Over The RiverBridge Over The River in Free Verse More Like This
Underneath the stone bridge an ice-cold river flows
Sometimes it's ferocious and sometimes rather calm
Carrying days and years of world into the distance
Its strand is to the bridge what humans are to each other
Route to its end seems strangely intoxicating
Over the icy river a stone bridge spans
Forever binding two shores with a gray ribbon
Just like heart contains both grief and joy
The bridge stands firm, even though the river's driving forward
For world of wonders we always look on the other side
Even though bridge locks the river and river undermines the bridge
It's just stone and cold water embracing one another
One looking up, the other one down, both lovingly
Just like we sometimes dream although not asleep
Not paying attention to the rest of the world
Vanilla CranesVanilla CranesVanilla Cranes in Free Verse More Like This
The light of day cuts pretty masks
Out of stuff way too colourful
And glues them on faces of men
Who then stomp chessboard with their feet
In brothels red lanterns do shine
Gates there kept open, welcoming
Children to find their way back home
To the tower of Babylon
Pockets and wallets resonate
With choirs and gospels of the change
Dreaming of freedom and revenge
Who lives by coin, by coin shall die
You ask me "Why do birds have wings,
When sons of mortal men can fly...?"
I guess we humans aim too high
Before sun laughs us in the face
So is there any happy place
Except for our enchanted realm
Where love with smallest ray of hope
Warms time through magnifying glass?
Here kisses taste like vanilla
Sprinkled all over coffee beans;
If we fold enough paper cranes
Do you think we can save the world?
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.Superimpose in Sketches More Like This
It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand versus the athletic kid who went to college for a semester and grew nine inches too tall to keep doing what he loved so he took up a tennis racquet instead. Gymnasts don't wear suit jackets; no steel mill worker has such manicured nails. But the images are all there, flickering just under the surface and bubbling up again when he's recounting stories about his days in Pi
Old SoulsDoc says I’m an oldOld Souls in Free Verse More Like This
soul, with my postcards
and letters, and waste-no-words
policy. Doc says old souls still make eye
contact instead of playing with iPhones,
mirrors that stare back, and tell
us who we are by knowing
who they are.
Doc tells me I’m an old
soul in a young body, taming
wild Internets and bringing my words
to heel like a triple score
in a game of Scrabble.
That I was born in the wrong
decade, that I was meant to punch
typewriter keys like a boxer,
that the twenty-first century
wasn’t made for old souls like mine.
Doc thinks I’m too old
to be twenty-three, constantly forgetting
the barriers of my few years.
Like that I never wrote about myself
until he gave me moments
worth writing down, and cared
about the person behind the words.
That I learned who I was by learning
who he was, and drew a timeline
of intersection points where each
node became a poem, and each poem
became a stepping stone.
Doc unearthed an old
soul in my notebook.
Old like a favori
SuffocationI found a vintage denim jacketSuffocation in Free Verse More Like This
in the bottom of my mother's closet,
underneath a black-and-white montage
of shoebox photographs with burned edges.
Like she had been trying to asphyxiate
the memory of my father
but kept coming up for air.
SynestheticSometimes I taste test names;Synesthetic in Free Verse More Like This
Anita – sharp citrus
for the ann-i,
a tortilla for the taa.
Brad – I like
its weight; a slab
of marbled chocolate
melted on my tongue
before the last letter.
Charlotte – something
savory, but sweet; pork
marinated in honey
on sweet rolls.
Doug – vanilla
a dusting of graham
an Oreo with no filling.
Elena – spice
and heat radiate –
eh-layne-ahh – a corona
the second e.
Fletcher – it’s syllables
mesh like mashed
potatoes, lumpy yet
Gladys – dried
lemons and stale
Spree candies, rattling
inside and empty pitcher.
Hawthorne – brackish,
the leftover remains
of a magnificent feast,
the apple still stuck
in the boar’s mouth.
Imogen – lean
and stringy. Green
beans and chicken
broth at a small,
Jules – red velvet
and hot peppers, a week
old cake with hard
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,He doesn't write poetry anymore. in Free Verse More Like This
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.
The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.
But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white and draymen carting the dead to saltwater lakes,
elegiac undertones that haunt historians and forlorn painters.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore –
except when he does.
Autumn was my first love.October, I follow you -Autumn was my first love. in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
from the magic lights of New York
to moonshines in Georgia,
until the colors dissolve.
The anxious poetry of autumn
made a memory of me.
Here’s to things I take for granted:
country road thunderstorms.
Unspoken words, unwritten ideas.
October, I follow you;
I thought I saw you on the shore
where the river runs through gold
on the last boat leaving the city of a hundred spires -
or perhaps Pittsburgh
(it was the lights I guess).
Here’s to the things we leave behind:
sunbeams in November,
letters addressed to no one,
poems, wounds, dead birds.
I’ve got that summertime sadness.
Maybe you’re gonna come back;
we’re changing our ways, taking different roads
and loneliness knows me by name
but October, I follow you;
without you I’m a winter heart,
a love story you don’t want,
a November shade of grey hunting ghosts
in cities that sleep inside our heads.
You told me you lied the night you kiss
Loving a WriterWhen you read their work –Loving a Writer in Free Verse More Like This
and it is work,
and you will often come second to the job –
it’s best to know which pieces are fictions,
which ones are wishes,
and which parts are for you.
CopenhagenLet’s meet again in an alternate universeCopenhagen in Free Verse More Like This
where your eyes are brown and I dyed my hair black
because I hated being a natural blue.
I’ll teach you to play guitar
and you’ll show me how to fly,
scholars caught in an intellectual love affair,
a tandem bike going nowhere.
I’ll know you by the gentleness
of your fingertips and you’ll need
no identifier but the slant of my handwriting,
because, world to world, some things don’t change.
CornerstoneGod became a pastorCornerstone in Free Verse More Like This
for a little church in the backwoods
of the South, nestled
somewhere in the Ozarks where
there were more squirrels
in the steeple than seats in the pews.
He rebuilt it from the ground up,
starting with the foundation He
poured with help from a member
in the construction business.
He bought nails and lumber
from the nearest hardware store;
the shopkeeper’s son painted
smoothed baseboards a pleasant
off-white while He worked
on the roof. The oldest lady
in the community brought aloe
for His chapped hands; her daughters
made sandwiches for the hungry
workers while their children planted
posies and peas in the garden.
When He was finished building,
He removed the weathered sign hanging
at the end of the road. The little ones
painted a new sign with stars and hearts
and tiny handprints pointing the way
to the Dogwood Homeless Shelter.
Off TopicIt takes twelve minutesOff Topic in Free Verse More Like This
to assemble sixteen desks
in a perfect circle.
Or as perfect as I can get it.
Then it takes another hour
for the first stragglers to wander in, seating themselves.
The professor always arrives seven
minutes before class begins.
He sits on the left side
while discourse flows easily among
the discordant voices.
The exchange rate on ideas
is ten seconds of silence for a halting opinion,
unsure of itself,
but backed up with a quoted passage
from page one twenty-three, read aloud then cut off -
contradicted by a second opinion.
The first voice breathes easy;
the spotlight eyes are elsewhere.
In the midst of interrupt,
the professor bends one knee
up to his chair, fixing
the loose knot of an old pair of loafers.
He ties a new knot without looking,
caught up in the dialogue
of his charges and finishes tightening
the strings as he raises his voice,
steering the dialouge back
to the topic at hand.
My worn pair of red
and white double-knotted Sketch
Acid Girl 04She once told me that Mexican nights were shorterAcid Girl 04 in Free Verse More Like This
With enough pills, October can be one long day
Those eyes never promised calm waves or Novocain
There's tequila in our mouthwash
The problem is I don't see this as a problem anymore
Nine out of ten dentists recommend swallowing the worm
An air conditioner is smoking somewhere downstairs
I breathed in the cold second hand and the minute stopped moving
We're only alive part time- cashing our rain checks in rubber boots
On the weekends, she doesn't know that it's the weekend
I'm always aware of footprints in the mud and snow
If they take the trash, it's Thursday
The puppy calendar on the fridge says 2009
Someone drew dicks on September's golden retriever
But this way, it's always three years before the Mayans ruin everything
The kitchen ants drown in the kitchen sink
One sheet of fly paper hangs from a horseshoe in the doorway
The stove can only been used to light roaches
A needle in the night stand makes a guest appearance
The liquor cabi
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
Acid Girl 03Take a breath. I don't remember having lungsAcid Girl 03 in Free Verse More Like This
We found each other in the worst kind of alley
Philosophy majors get the concept of a dumpster
Between Zhuangzi and a blowjob,
there must be a difference
I woke up in reverse today
Any nice guy has a shot with a stripper
Conversations with the creature in the corner
He's excited that my skin is melting
She meets me in the pretend hotel lobby
Concrete, turn around, ants at a picnic
Adult drinks for breakfast, semi circle dinners
I'm in love with easy veins
She picked out her bride's maid dress at Wal-mart
I was dead for six whole months
First day back, Lazarus didn't change
House wives walking their cats on a leash
They wish their brains were as stained as mine
I still remember how to use a phone
It can't be winter without a fatal car wreck
We went to church last year
She thought it was a movie
Turn around and no one is there
I paid for the double feature
Campfires on the windowsill
Lightning strikes as many times as you want it
Memories of b
Life Boats for Paper DollsI still throw salt over my shoulder becauseLife Boats for Paper Dolls in Free Verse More Like This
it makes the devil thirsty.
He drinks from an oaken bucket.
We can live our lives without him.
I know a tree in Pennsylvania.
A girl nobody saw leaned against the moss
every day after class.
She wrote in a journal as ants
crawled between her silent fingers.
The summer I turned eighteen she tried to
hang herself from it
Not the journal.
I suppose our words may often feel like gallows.
You never forget the first time you
taste sour milk.
The feeling of time's betrayal.
Some things still have to be taken on faith,
not expiration dates.
Today, I saw her under a tree in Minnesota.
She still writes about damnation but only with a smile.
There is something beautiful about rotting wood.
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
Vie NoirYou were the promise of regret,Vie Noir in Free Verse More Like This
destiny wrapped in an egg shell,
something that temperance would not allow.
And you looked at me with cloudy eyes,
sipping your excuses while choking on tomorrow.
(We were the privileged few that God chose to endure the hopeless)
And you cursed my name while confessing every lie.
My borders grew as you clawed for the limits of absolution.
(We were the privileged few whose skin was hard to pierce)
And you loaded that gun with false bravado and ill intent.
The world was watching as you aimed it at the future.
(We were the privileged few who never forget to empty the chamber)
And you stared into the nothing, hoping to find me there
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
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.)
I'm All That's Left of MeI’m All That’s Left of MeI'm All That's Left of Me in Free Verse More Like This
She put her lips on the fountain when we were kids.
I've kissed too many people to still be mad about it.
The first time she slept in my bed I had visions
of my grandfather decaying in his coffin.
(The scuttle of tiny legs and a far away buzzing)
I woke up to a thousand pairs of eyes staring at me.
Hers were closed, but her mouth started moving.
“People who dream about the dead often attract flies.
I’ll tell you my nightmares if you tell me yours.”
It was winter and the windows were closed.
There are flowers that bloom once in a life time.
The things I see during the day prepare me for the night.
A family moved into her old house.
They don’t leave beer cans on the front porch.
For some reason that makes me sick.
The only picture I didn't burn is of her
looking past the lens and straight into my eyes.
Everything else about that life is gone.
Sometimes even me.
This is the worst day to tell me I’m blind
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.
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.
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,
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.
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,
PerigeeWhen the mare went blindPerigee in Free Verse More Like This
my heart clouded like her eyes
she walked calm along her dark path
she learned step up, step down
I led her by the forelock
her trust like the moon between my hands
Floods They ComeHornet rain and floods they comeFloods They Come in Free Verse More Like This
they overrun the lowlands like a plague
like swirling black death
the first swells rise and snuff your tiny heart
corrode the skin of everything you ever loved
Thyme and cabbage, carrots
pickles sweet and flaccid on a crystal plate
hard-edged rye spread thick
with sweating margarine
Wrinkled biddies pinch you odd and hard
their teeth are cracked and gray as stone
They peer too close, their swimming shallow eyes
they smile like a skull, you saw it on tv
You taste the risk, you smell it on their breath
the camphor-scented cotton, mildew and the wool
stretched tight across their breast
and buttermilk in heavy yellow glass
You struggle for immunity, you stamp your foot
you only thought you did
but it was just a step you shuffled in your lace-up shoes
your braided hair, your favorite dress
Crows"Crows," I whisper and she flies,Crows in Free Verse More Like This
brown arrow shot
from the bowstring of a word.
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 lacked then,
I would yet learn, or I would find.
But it was false anticipation-
mark of the very young
who sleep too long through a dappled day,
who nestle in the succor of the sweet fern
and old pine, of the sweet yearn
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.
another notch on the wall. 1.another notch on the wall. in Free Verse More Like This
a while now,
a while now has passed
with bruises crying jagged from your voice
and pretty little nicks upon
( tricky partners dancing
within your hands cupped around a flame,
for artists draw and
another curse at the bleeding night
snipping stitches and
weaving nightmares into weary minds.
the girl who lost her feet.she is the type of girl to bleed a number of different coloursthe girl who lost her feet. in Free Verse More Like This
instead of the too-common red; to dress the stars up in smiles
so they'd stop crying starlight on the earth;
to clean her mind with the dustpan and brush she hides beneath her
bed sheets when the sunlight disappoints her, and the
sparkles of the water don't look like anything but water anymore.
she knows the secrets of those who'd long ago stitched their
lips shut with lies of insubstantial beauty and inferiority,
because she's been around the block a few times and can identify
Mrs Nosy from Ms Heartbroken right down to
and she is the kind of girl who zips the secrets into the
lining of her pockets, who walks around and smiles at those
who need it at exactly that moment, who drops all her money
into the bent tins held out in hands of dirt and a world
forgotten underneath concrete dreams and whirring machines.
she is the broken kind you see when you're driving to your workplace
and there she is, sitting
of addiction. i. of naivetyof addiction. in Free Verse More Like This
when i met you, you spilt sweet words into my bleeding ears and plugged the holes so they couldn't spew back out. my too-deep trust in you grew on instability, sweat and the infection in my forgotten wounds.
"i love you," you groaned as your arms wound around me and my eyes shuttered into blankness. "we're gonna be together forever, okay? forever."
must exist, i whispered in my head.
you wouldn't lie to me. i know you wouldn't.
when i turned the corner, you were there, waiting for me. ready to grab my hand and tug me under. and i let you because you made me feel better.
ii. of denial
i drew our memories in red and painted the sky with my tears until it sparkled. i buried the truth under you because it crept up in my mind and told me stories of a disorder i do not have.
i do not have faultiness i
knead.I. measureknead. in Free Verse More Like This
with hands of frozen fingertips,
dunked in the cold too many times
and i find the clouds of flour that
somehow floated up through that thick
skull of mine and into the
brain matter underneath,
and white-white-white glares with
a pain as sharp as needles in my bare back
the pelt of too-hot water
in the gloomy morning, listening to
the rain meet tin above my head,
a different kind of melody
and my hips groan,
complaining with an audible voice inside
my mind, warning me not
to walk too fast,
so i stand with the bowl and the
wooden spoon, biting lips to
keep from spinning
to the ground.
as strings of exhaustion and an
ache deep inside my marrow run their
way through me,
sticky fingers and flour all down my
i can feel the folds of memory and
personality stitch themselves together
in an effort to keep from
falling apart and landing like the
forgotten pieces of dough
sitting at the bottom o
another fix, pleasethat feeling of reliefanother fix, please in Free Verse More Like This
in darkened days
with hollow eyes and broken gazes,
floods my skin like taut stares,
the key snapping blurry worlds
I dissolve, scars upon scars,
building tales of months
pain bleeding outside borders
only blissful addiction.
[ breathing monitored,
as watched as I am ]
confusion, hazy like counting
for that feeling in freedom,
perfection comes in blood
and agony, for searching
out hungry addiction.
out searching for agony
in comes perfection,
waiting for freedom in
for backwards counting like hazy
[ am I
as watched as
monitored breathing? ]
only borders outside bleeding
pain and forgotten
months of tales building
scars upon scars. dissolve.
I focus into worlds
key the uncomfortable stares,
taut like skin.
my floods &
silver liningtell me your world hasn't exploded yetsilver lining in Free Verse More Like This
because explosions cannot be mended
but the tears, the bruises, the broken bones
need only a doctor, medicine and love.
the floor is made of rotten wood
but that doesn't mean you can't replace it
and the memories are stains inside your head:
still, stains will always fade.
tell me the world hasn't exploded yet
and we'll snip the wire to shut off the bomb
(but there's always a chance
we'll pick the wrong wire and everything )
oh, let's burn the earth together.
ifif i could fall in love with you,if in Free Verse More Like This
i'd yank the blue sky from its perch and wrap it around your
shoulders like grandma's woollen blanket;
i'd extract the spirit from
between your toes and douse your eyes in it, so maybe
then i'd understand what makes your thoughts
and i'd write the words of
a love-bitten victim on the insides of your wrists, just to
make sure i won't find scratches there in the
if i could fall in love with you,
i'd glue your sentences on the walls, and tell everyone
the paint was peeling anyway; and i like falling asleep
to the scent of your ink-spelt feelings;
and i'd give away the coffee that
keeps me upright every day, if only to rub the nightmares
from underneath your ragged fingernails;
and maybe i'd even
name a skin-deep butterfly after you because my superstitious nature
would still my fingers; and you'd have claim of my
if i could fall in love with you,
i would not speak your name anymore because it would taste
too sweet &
whisperscuttlethey whisperscuttle across the ceilingwhisperscuttle in Free Verse More Like This
like spiders, black hairy legs and peppered
poison and squashed letters under
barefoot dances with heavyhanded
secrets like broken branches in a summer
storm. they burrow beneath
fearstenched skin where the purple
strings wait and my collarbone creaks
as they crawl inside with pink marrow
and dirtyblinded tales of betrayal
because the word friend tastes just the
same as love and they both leave
the lingering scent of mould like
winged nightmares, with dusty
surfaces and thin dying flights out in a
tissuewrapped world. they whisper-
scuttle across burnt walls with black
edged paper crumbles on
coffee skin where the pink turns
to brown and lightly glides with shiny
scars. a barefoot dancing partner
with scaly curved nails whitespotted
with lacking just for me in our night-
crusted eyes, blinkblink when
the yellowstriped curtains drag
back and the madness cracks the egg
shells of tiny girls whose bell
anklets jingle with every grey-
You are Beautifuli.You are Beautiful in Free Verse More Like This
You are precious
don't let them tell you you're not.
I love you and
I don't want you to hurt so much.
Your tears fall too much.
You are not a waste of space
and your thoughts do mean
a lot to them.
You are not fat,
you are not disgusting,
just look in the mirror.
Those ribs do poke out
and just because the
number rose doesn't
mean you're fat.
you're scarily skinny.
Please stop crying,
I can't stand your pain.
I want to hold your hand still
but I have no control
over you when you're like this.
I don't like the sight of your
It scares me.
No, no one wants you to die.
I don't want you to die
and if you die, I do too.
I hate it when you think like this
and I'm scared because
I know I'm one of the only things
keeping you breathing.
I'm the one that stops you from jumping.
I'm the one that stops you cutting too deep.
I'm the one that hides the belt away.
I'm the one that's saving you,
with a little help from others.
relearning i. stardust scatters with therelearning in Free Verse More Like This
direction of my pupils –
maybe secretly i am an
astrology teacher, waiting
for a sign to wink
happily at me.
ii. excuse the rambling
nature of forgotten question
marks, but tell me:
would you like to be the
object of handwritten clichés
would you like to whisper
secrets in my palm
and would you
like to be the possibility
iii. air brushes against my
skin like the torn petals
of a flower still standing.
[ hold your head up high, honey,
and tell tomorrow to wait just
iv. so you can figure out
the difference between
patience and having all the
time in the world. ]
v. stardust glitters from the
creases of my hands.
perhaps i am not the teacher
but the pupil,
relearning how brilliant
stars can shine.