Be long in your moments
Let the moment run long, keep the fire fed with trifles. You keep casting yourself ahead, or pitching your gaze backward onto the painted wall of all that's already happened. The air waits to kiss the bridge of your nose. The light presses to everything, it has this one way of loving to which it rushes. I want for you a flawed circle of smooth water, blurred at the edges by flowers so red they seem an entrance, by ferns so bladed and fierce your dread of peril disappears. I want a clean mirror for you in which you might see yourself when your heart is its most full with all you love to carry with you.
The Red Ghost of Uptown
quietly the apartment hums-- sighs. everything stirs just little pitch higher, the melody shifts. time somehow syncopates. the table clears its throat silently. the chair stifles a laugh. the walls purr. the air is still. somehow i am the one spinning. a train comes, a train goes. it vanishes, intangible... The red ghost haunting the block sings her bawdy rondels to the water, to the lake, to the moon, to all our poor drunks in Uptown, to all that will hear her. She wakes the earth at all hours. Her voice fading as she waltzes South then North, South and North through Old Chicago.
If you want someone to fall in love Take the heart of a turtledove Bind it in a ribbon of red Bind it again in golden thread Leave it in honey overnight Take it out by a pink candle’s light Be sure to use a silver spoon On the night of a crescent moon (A waxing crescent, to be precise) Then sprinkle on a pinch of rice Thrown at a wedding, one year past (Do so with your eyes downcast) Take a lock of your true love’s hair Bound with a string from a scarf you wear Sprinkle heart and hair with gold-leaf dust (Use real gold: this is a must) Place it all in a rosewood box Seal it with a silver lock For ninety days you then must wait… Or, you could just ask them on a date
too close to see, you are too close to me, an eclipsing gaze, all arms across us, i wouldn't leave, if i could go but you know this - you knew of love once you want to know again, you try to kiss me, as if drawing love out, and breathing love in, die again and again, you'd rather, than death you've almost known, too close for comfort
Not For Me, For You
not for me to feel - nothing as far as i can see, nothing close to me, my heart is deeper under, the black wells of forget, tears are the only stars i see, why do stars burn to live dreams are mute walls; sky is lost to a vapor moon - i drift, not forever is a veil i will wear to cover me from the absence of myself; i will hide behind the anonymity of trees, for you to feel left behind
She Dances With Fire
She dances with fire, a dragon in tow. Twirling with flames; graceful and slow She dances tonight, in a city of ash. Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash. Quietly mourning, as time goes by; Where once she beheld a home in her eyes... Yet naught but the barest of bones remain, And so she dances, to soothe the pain.
14. Metal Mettle
I was born with a silver tongue, Copper eyes and a gold heart. A grain of salt in my head and skin of obsidian. The silver has tarnished, But it stays slick with lies told , And untold. And retold. My lips seem bruised and discolored, poisoned by the silver within. The copper has oxidized, Turning blues and greens under the force of the salt water of my tears. And all the strife they have seen. The golden heart starts soft and pure Shining in the sunlight. But it is soft. Malleable All too soon it is dented. And pieces taken. It is better known as Fool's Gold, When it glints in the light to attract another. The grain of salt becomes a pearl that is my brain. Over time it shall mold Rolled within my cavity, an irritant until it is beholden as some fantastic beauty of nature. My skin is obsidian. Beautiful and Smooth Shattering off with any amount of force, Sharply cutting to those that try to touch me wrong. I am a treasure trove, Of precious metals and beautiful things. I may
Poetry is word jam. Boil down the natural sweetness of words And add the sugar of imagery, alliteration, assonance, allusion, figure of speech, meter, and rhyme to taste.