National Poetry Writing Month
In distant dreams
the muse
will
Come read to
me some
poem
Words soon forgotten
upon eyes
opening.
I create this
just to
prove,
I can launch
bright words,
forms
on pixilated paper
that mean
naught.
In my zest
nothing is
sacred.
Yet I hesitate
before I
begin
Because one words
should have
meaning
Before they escape
to the
sun
And the moon
and the
stars.
Then I realize
with vibrant
jubilation
That to do
this little
bit
Is a start.
I beam
YES!
In silent lucidity,
my muse
returns…
Like a phoenix to a flame he comes
Swearing up a blue streak
The grain of his outer staff
Perfectly matching my inner sculpture
I weather the frothy current
Tinkling down the esophageal path
In a flight of carnal – carnival – carnivore joy
The apparition of the newly dead bird laid to rest
But then phoenix rises
Physical… Want… Desire…
It’s interesting how the sudden impulses
to just hold you come about
I want you in my arms
To feel your arms around me
I watch you
the way you walk
the way you speak
I watch the way you
Be
There’s such a passion in even the most
subtle of your moves
That sparks such wanton desire
within my own body
Every instinct in me just
knows
You will be soooo damn good
I’m now tempted to find out
to prove myself right
will the reality of you
be equal to the desire
are you ready for a challenge…?
There’s a flower that’s grown
inside my heart
from a seed he’s planted there
Somehow it endured
despite the coldness
despite how hard I tried
To keep it from growing
I was never prepared
for the warmth of sunshine
That came from his smile
or the rain of tears
from his empathy
Gently pulling away the weeds
that threatened to harm
with his gentle touch
And the flower grew
Strong and beautiful
Until I could no longer fight it
And no longer wanted to
My waters flow over her through her around her surround her It cleanses, refreshes and she rises forth an African Aphrodite pristine in my waters. Life springs from her merest touch a casual toss of her hair can coalesce into a summer's shower or winter's gale Yet his still waters roil in the tempest of his anger I can not burn My Adonis Nubian his waters peak my mountains white I can not freeze Within the deepest flow and ebb of his love though I am completely submerged in the silken currents I cannot be drowned. Nor can my thirst ever be quenched.
And you’d think it was you who called it off
At my own damned hubris do I scoff
Worse thing I ever did – how could I know
Would be to be so stupid in letting you go
Too afraid to tell you what was needed
You said I’d be sorry, you succeeded
I expected anger
How you made me strong was a weakness I’d deride
Though I knew it for truth, I was too deep in my pride
Knowing I lie, when I say I’ll get through this
Now trapped in the feeling my own hubris
All that’s left are the memories,
Once dear to me, now sear through me
I expected anger
I expected I might be sad
The empty bottles aren’t drowning out the din
When midnight finds me sobbing once again
You were all I had and I threw all
For I never learned how to beg, never knew how to crawl
And that’s my my downfall
I expected anger,
I expected I might be sad
But no, I never expected to hurt so bad
The morning air purred contentedly
In azures bright and clearly
Enough to see forever
Comforting as a warm wrap and a good read
Oh put it in a box for me indeed
In retrospect I should have known better
Of course it’s going to turn like this
The barometer drops to ruin my bliss
And the azures hiss and howl to a sleet of slate
I retrieve my umbrella placed out of sight
For the barking and caterwauling out tonight
Felines and canines dampening on our date
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Having silliness with a common analogy for uncommon weather
