sought to define
She always seem to be
a step ahead or day late and a dollar short;
one of those girls
that can lure beautiful men into her bed
though never do they tarry long.
They were only crushings anyway, yet once
upon dream she fell
(those golden boys having spoiled her well)
and twilight mixed
with madness kissed her lips and the sun
became the moon.
For a brief beat she knew,
she stepped in time with the world, bathing
in moonshadowed pools.
Then as always she began
restless in the limbo pacing, thirsting
for the object of her affection, of her desire
and sought to define.
July 11, 2007 - Wednesday
a few bits missing
I admit to distraction
even leaning back
letting my head loll
on the pillow listlessly
my mind takes stock
finds a few bits missing
moves on toward
Shakespeare having
fallen on the floor.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
june into july, bipolar days and nights of unrest
July 10, 2007 - Tuesday
safety of the shore
Matt says
surviving is not living
I know this
but it's the one thing I trust;
survival
I also know
not all hearts are the same
and mine dips and sways
wants to soar
but wants
the safety of the shore
July 8, 2007 - Sunday
as well she wants
incongruency of action
and words is the heart
at odds yet she waits
in sweetest sorrow
knowing she can live
without him but knowing
as well she wants to stay.
July 5, 2007 - Thursday
somewhere along the line
I didn't mean to be a poet
much less one of love and death
nor did I set out toward
the bearing of my soul.
I wanted to dream in far off lands
and drink the depths
of blue red oceans sent down
in black blue ink.
somewhere along the line
I learned to feel and think
far more than such a small
tender heart should
somewhere along the line
I learned to weep and mourn
somewhere along the line
I learned to love and to live.
note: yes, "bearing"...
if seemingly i cling
Sometimes the world moves
but I cannot move with it
the silence prevents me
and I mourn the coming days.
I am not always whole. Not
the way your love makes me;
and I fear no other will ever
make me feel the same. So
if seemingly I cling, Love,
forgive and kiss my brow
let the worry from me go.
July 2, 2007 - Monday
where words cannot reach
still
in the quiet blushing
slow
sweet
thrusts
enveloped in your arms
I crawled inside
us a tangle
and found
that place
where words
cannot reach
June 20, 2007 - Wednesday
in the learning
each we come
in time our own
to the reconciliation
of need, want
against should
I can hear you
breathing, articulation
in the learning
and beam bright
smiles lit in eyes
pride, proud am I
to be privy
to the growing of you
exquisite, sublime
oh beauteous
lover mine
in turn I grant
thee glimpse
your own of
my own becoming
for you do foster
my soul searching.
what a strange thing to mourn
despair
makes an odd
wailing
moaning
guttural
exhalation
of silence
it twists the hands
and wraps you in a ball
immobile
on the bathroom floor
eyes staring wide
minutes seeming hours
pass
yet no one
ever comes
to claim you
you rise alone
and suddenly
you're a shell
that weeps
in the car
on the way to work
on the way home
in restaurants
when your only solace
is the strength you muster
your endeavorance
to persevere
then one day you awake
and you've lost
your anger
it is as much gone
as the body you've buried
what a strange thing
to mourn
anger
June 18, 2007 - Monday
shine - a poem for t.c.
distance, I
thought
you had gone
thought
you were going
thought
you didn't want me
sent word that I miss you
and you spoke to me soft
and gentle as is your way
and we did part that eve
a promise
that we have the now
and the now we are taking
for a love like this
though future uncertain
should shine
shine
baby
shine
June 15, 2007 - Friday
began to learn to trust
It was a Sunday
when I smiled
and turned
my face toward the heat
static in my ears
as I sat in the sun
of my southern youth
suit wet and trying to dry
deaf by the water
laughing with friends;
there is a first time
for everything.
Last eve my lover
lay beside me
neither of us sleeping much
for each others body
in the bed
as all night
we lay arms and legs
a tangle
softly spooning
gently touching
tossing turning
fresh from the water
he had smiled with his eyes
heart a sparkle
and mouthed words distinct.
It's been ten months since
he became the first
to tempt me
to water
after far too long
ten months since
I began to learn to trust.
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
red clay and dawn
the white man came
tore my earth, my soul
asunder and since
each life I have walked
lost in their way, spoke
in their tongue, all
the while my soul
beats red clay and dawn
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
the piece i need (the peace)
In the long hours of dawn
where the waking cannot find me
and sandmen tug as I turn neat away
Valhalla lulls me with her languid coo
"rest, my warrior queen, too long
have you held to heart the strength
of nations gone to war
and the women left to weep,
set your burden to drift awhile
in ebb and flow along my shore
let me grace you with my limbo
and tread ye not along the moor."
Ever do I search the way
within and find the piece in need.
June 13, 2007 - Wednesday
she - that girl
close to three a.m. – again.
wasn't it wrote – that time before…
seeming always and again, again
in the dreamscape does he come
mayhap more oft he stays
but on this eve he did go.
early morning on the morrow
but he left her in good spirit
and less lost is she – that girl –
who let her lover steel her heart
June 12, 2007 - Tuesday
at thirty-seven going on twelve
Twelve
why twelve?
cause twelve was a good age
an age of innocence
of body
if not soul
before my menses flow
several years before
my hymen broke
it was an age of push and shove
where games were played
on asphalt and merry-go-rounds
though things with me
never came easy
I was still just a girl
just a girl
and the future was out there
it had not finally come
it had not
finally come
a soul that bleeds
that girl that did
that girl that does
that girl she turned neat
face toward flesh
she seeks
a way to stop
the love
the hurt
he is just a man,
my girl,
they are all
just men
and you?
you were graced
with too large a heart
a soul that bleeds
and the capacity
to give
tease the waking
I
That she could burn so late
through the cold yuletide
worries; what will become
of her in the summer heat?
Do suns burn off then dissipate
or like planets will she make
to the old bone yard seeking fate?
I could not know for she am I,
still, at the fire of yuletide dying
mourning embers' glow
softly fading and in my limbo
do I linger, look about
almost meek, "My god!" I cry
Where is my December!"
II
late into the eve
my southern sun does tease
and in my lulling haze
I brush soft
nipples large
and full and pink,
world about me sighing
it stops but brief allowing
her to think.
safety of the shore
Matt says
surviving is not living
I know this
but it's the one thing I trust;
survival
I also know
not all hearts are the same
and mine dips and sways
wants to soar
but wants
the safety of the shore
July 8, 2007 - Sunday
as well she wants
incongruency of action
and words is the heart
at odds yet she waits
in sweetest sorrow
knowing she can live
without him but knowing
as well she wants to stay.
July 5, 2007 - Thursday
somewhere along the line
I didn't mean to be a poet
much less one of love and death
nor did I set out toward
the bearing of my soul.
I wanted to dream in far off lands
and drink the depths
of blue red oceans sent down
in black blue ink.
somewhere along the line
I learned to feel and think
far more than such a small
tender heart should
somewhere along the line
I learned to weep and mourn
somewhere along the line
I learned to love and to live.
note: yes, "bearing"...
if seemingly i cling
Sometimes the world moves
but I cannot move with it
the silence prevents me
and I mourn the coming days.
I am not always whole. Not
the way your love makes me;
and I fear no other will ever
make me feel the same. So
if seemingly I cling, Love,
forgive and kiss my brow
let the worry from me go.
July 2, 2007 - Monday
where words cannot reach
still
in the quiet blushing
slow
sweet
thrusts
enveloped in your arms
I crawled inside
us a tangle
and found
that place
where words
cannot reach
June 20, 2007 - Wednesday
in the learning
each we come
in time our own
to the reconciliation
of need, want
against should
I can hear you
breathing, articulation
in the learning
and beam bright
smiles lit in eyes
pride, proud am I
to be privy
to the growing of you
exquisite, sublime
oh beauteous
lover mine
in turn I grant
thee glimpse
your own of
my own becoming
for you do foster
my soul searching.
what a strange thing to mourn
despair
makes an odd
wailing
moaning
guttural
exhalation
of silence
it twists the hands
and wraps you in a ball
immobile
on the bathroom floor
eyes staring wide
minutes seeming hours
pass
yet no one
ever comes
to claim you
you rise alone
and suddenly
you're a shell
that weeps
in the car
on the way to work
on the way home
in restaurants
when your only solace
is the strength you muster
your endeavorance
to persevere
then one day you awake
and you've lost
your anger
it is as much gone
as the body you've buried
what a strange thing
to mourn
anger
June 18, 2007 - Monday
shine - a poem for t.c.
distance, I
thought
you had gone
thought
you were going
thought
you didn't want me
sent word that I miss you
and you spoke to me soft
and gentle as is your way
and we did part that eve
a promise
that we have the now
and the now we are taking
for a love like this
though future uncertain
should shine
shine
baby
shine
June 15, 2007 - Friday
began to learn to trust
It was a Sunday
when I smiled
and turned
my face toward the heat
static in my ears
as I sat in the sun
of my southern youth
suit wet and trying to dry
deaf by the water
laughing with friends;
there is a first time
for everything.
Last eve my lover
lay beside me
neither of us sleeping much
for each others body
in the bed
as all night
we lay arms and legs
a tangle
softly spooning
gently touching
tossing turning
fresh from the water
he had smiled with his eyes
heart a sparkle
and mouthed words distinct.
It's been ten months since
he became the first
to tempt me
to water
after far too long
ten months since
I began to learn to trust.
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
red clay and dawn
the white man came
tore my earth, my soul
asunder and since
each life I have walked
lost in their way, spoke
in their tongue, all
the while my soul
beats red clay and dawn
June 14, 2007 - Thursday
the piece i need (the peace)
In the long hours of dawn
where the waking cannot find me
and sandmen tug as I turn neat away
Valhalla lulls me with her languid coo
"rest, my warrior queen, too long
have you held to heart the strength
of nations gone to war
and the women left to weep,
set your burden to drift awhile
in ebb and flow along my shore
let me grace you with my limbo
and tread ye not along the moor."
Ever do I search the way
within and find the piece in need.
June 13, 2007 - Wednesday
she - that girl
close to three a.m. – again.
wasn't it wrote – that time before…
seeming always and again, again
in the dreamscape does he come
mayhap more oft he stays
but on this eve he did go.
early morning on the morrow
but he left her in good spirit
and less lost is she – that girl –
who let her lover steel her heart
June 12, 2007 - Tuesday
at thirty-seven going on twelve
Twelve
why twelve?
cause twelve was a good age
an age of innocence
of body
if not soul
before my menses flow
several years before
my hymen broke
it was an age of push and shove
where games were played
on asphalt and merry-go-rounds
though things with me
never came easy
I was still just a girl
just a girl
and the future was out there
it had not finally come
it had not
finally come
a soul that bleeds
that girl that did
that girl that does
that girl she turned neat
face toward flesh
she seeks
a way to stop
the love
the hurt
he is just a man,
my girl,
they are all
just men
and you?
you were graced
with too large a heart
a soul that bleeds
and the capacity
to give
tease the waking
I
That she could burn so late
through the cold yuletide
worries; what will become
of her in the summer heat?
Do suns burn off then dissipate
or like planets will she make
to the old bone yard seeking fate?
I could not know for she am I,
still, at the fire of yuletide dying
mourning embers' glow
softly fading and in my limbo
do I linger, look about
almost meek, "My god!" I cry
Where is my December!"
II
late into the eve
my southern sun does tease
and in my lulling haze
I brush soft
nipples large
and full and pink,
world about me sighing
it stops but brief allowing
her to think.
