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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 26, 2009
It is very easy to become swept away by spilled wine by *IAmPoetry. As the suggester notes 'this poem is very sensual and poignant and includes very warm imagery. However, the end of the poem leaves plenty to the imagination and just asks for the poem to be read and enjoyed again,' and again - and I will certainly agree!
Featured by LadyLincoln
Suggested by fllnthblnk
Literature Text
He dances a kind of genius
against white walls;
all prim and branched out
The fireplace, calm as the setting sun,
carries me
to
him
Fingers sweep each other
collecting dead skin and dialogue
We giggle like short-lived kids
playing with drugs
His smile vintage, lips, dry as cocoa mix
now moist as dew kissed grass
The table acquaints us
panties wilt to the obese rug
among spilled wine and cradled glass
Literature
i am falling with you
i.
there is no need in this, only want.
ii.
i fear for my safety, and you know this.
i don’t know if i should be disturbed by your telling me that you would kill them if they ever hurt me, and yet you are nearly a man too. i am disturbed by how far i let you in and i am glad you can’t see how you are the one who could hurt me most of all, and
only the trust i have in you will prevent that eventuality.
iii.
i have always been an obstinate creature. my mother spent years telling everyone who asked how i spent days clinging to the inside of her womb, unwilling to come out with the rose-tinted, nostalgic wis
Literature
We Watched Ourselves Dissipate
we caught our breath with butterfly nets
and exhaled
the pieces of each other's wings
that stuck in our lungs.
the sky gave a shiver and the stars
unsealed, their firefly cores shimmering
and fluttering
toward us.
plucking them from the air, they slip
between our fingertips
and fall like butterfly wings
to the ground.
we conduct the celestial engagement with
our metallic hearts
that control this unsteady rhythm of
love crescendos
and staccato love-making.
like conductors in an orchestra.
our lives write the love songs.
Literature
i think it was a friday
I walked about 4 miles home while nursing a bottle of vodka.
I've seen these houses, these businesses, every day for years
but now they glow with that pre-dawn illuminance offered by
speeding drunks and cops and kids on pcp screaming down alleys
when I'm the only one who can hear.
I don't remember it raining during the night
but the puddles huddling against the curbs seem to remind me of something.
Something lost and stagnant like the abandoned bastard water that exists
without the rain to blame it on.
I left the party and the friends when I realized that I hated everybody there
and I took the rest of the hard liquor with me.
It do
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Comments279
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This is very impressive! I really like the work and the imagery generated. Due to personal taste, the last stanza with the 'panties' line seemed to lessen the subtleness of the piece but it was still an enjoyable read!