Tag Archives: poem

I remember (poem of mine)

I remember the rush of the air

The sense of death

was so alive

in the pulses

surrounding me

I think I died many times

before I was here

and the palpability

of loss

and regret

as thick

as the wish

on my lips.

A full moon

and black, black

air

a hand on mine

in the night

I meet your eye.

Do not deceive me

black

black night.

Opaque

As I was

surrounded by your smog

to breathe

was a dream.

I lay untouched

in my fort,

smothered.

Do not touch me.

I remember

I remember

the air as thick as burning timber

And to breathe,

Like a dream,

your hand on mine

A dream,

A dream,

A dream.

 

Advertisements

Sick of sense (poem of mine)

I do not know my self
The one who salutes me
As a shadow
At the foot of my bed.

You,
Dark, dark creature,
Who sucks the daylight from my pores
Who steals the moonshine
That coats my floors.

The moon,
The sick, sick, moon.
The marble, sugary,
White
Green
Blue.

I do not know my self
The one who stands
At the foot of the bed
Who breathes the sweet air?
Who sleeps with my dreams?

I don’t want my eyes open (poem of mine)

I don’t want my eyes open
I want the black dreams
The jittery
Reminiscence
I want the revelation
Of turning clouds
And pale skies
That drown like
Ghosts in the light.

I don’t want my eyes open,
I want peace
Like a plain sheet
And a window propped
To an outside chorus
And a mind as clear
As a blue day.

I don’t want my eyes open
To feel my stomach churn
Head burning with conversation
The friction
Of the daily grind.
I don’t want
My eyes open.

Girl I will never see again (poem of mine)

She was beauty’s muse,
I saw her once
Alone in a cafe,
Elbows propped
At crooked angles,
The soft trail of a jaw bone
Framed with a curl at the neck.
I felt as if,
My bones had ruptured,
Legs gave way
At the knee,
And feet turned webbed
On the wet cement.

I asked her once
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
We turned pages of books
Like wind turns leaves on an Autumn day
And I felt the brush of her wrist,
Soft as a newborn lamb,
And the warm glow
Of the brown tinder in her eye,
Glowed at the hearth inside me.

I asked her once,
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
And I watched myself,
Walk on by,
A turned face,
Turned down
Against the oncoming rain.

Old. Home. Dry. (Poem of mine)

And those old eyes
I still saw them
spreading with
the age in her face
And every time she walked
I saw hurt in her bones.
And I don’t know how many
Nights I cried
Thinking of life
Without her
And loneliness
Clenched
Like a fist of self pity
And my heart beat so fast
When I stopped breathing
I felt relief
Close,
And sweet
As a sheet.
I never saw her drink again
Even when wine flowed like fountains
And parties flooded around her.
I will always write poetry
For you.
I hold your hands
And veins flow,
Like shallow rivers.
I sink like a stone
in the water
Forever seems like tomorrow
In this grasp of sunlight.

You pushed me (poem of mine)

You pushed me,
And I felt a warmth
Rush through me
As the heel of your palm
Headstrong
In the curve of my back.
And we forgot all the stars,
Or should I say
I forgave every piece of light
I saw rushing towards me
In that dark fall.
And my final thought,
It felt like love
Love is murder.
Thunder.

I saw my body,
frail as a feather,
White
Blanched,
Starched in the dusk
Of the pale street light…
Your skin.

I looked up,
Stars obscured.
I saw your face,
In a haze of rain,
In a fall as light as
A last breath,
Angels Wings,
Breeze on my back,
Feather-gentle
At my fingertips.

Desolate (poem of mine)

Stretched across
This silent tundra
Whispers turn to wings
I wait for my oasis
To melt in front of me.
I sunk some time ago
And took shelter
I dreamed in mirage,
To escape the daylight
Making vultures of my bones.
I am picked dry
All angles,
And vacancy.
I watch the sand with envy
It floats,
Lifted,
And I am left behind
Not even a tear to cry
And quench this thirst.