Ducks. Snow. Tamed memories.
Little things I remember.
Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had.
Pentagram, in a logical place.
Never, ever, even being.
Your words that saved me. And these little things I do.
Pain gone. That’s a comfort.
I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile.
Desolation the empty. Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting.
Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain?
The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time.
Yours, to breif.
Sorry its taken a while as I have been sick with a dreded cold fluy thing. I have had to have a bit of a hiatus, but am back now. In site news, I have now put up my art portfolio here:
You can even send me a email for a commission, if you like. My rates are resnoble.
Note only one poem this month, but lots coming in August.
Just as confused
Flowing through my mind
Hiding behind a tree or a bush
My brain drying out like this biting morning
Peaceful trees to sit on away from home
Sun and leaves come and go
Hide from myself and everything
As they all hurt me
Everyone, everything, it all hurts
Domestic chords and monestic cores
Sometimes I wanted
Dark, again already
The bell rings
On the coast
I don’t like to boast
Is the most
Penitent lighthouse to ever fog horned
I’ve got to tell you
I’m not trying to sell you
I can ring a bell for you
About this lighthouse so adorned
I’ve crossed many seas
I’ve broken to many a ocean breeze
I beg you on my knees
The lighthouse is the sight for captains forlorn
I’m eating the last
Of the salty crusted bass
And at the tip of the mast
My lookout shouts for spotting the glalore’n
Purple sky darkens
I cannot apologize for this present marking
Sealed with my lonely life
Peeled like a bone thife
Why I’m so cold, distant from plight
Partly my thoughts, partly my fright
Scared like I am
Of all these thing that can and have
Traumatized by their shouts and fights
Mind anexity going at the speed of light
Part and marshal, white distance frightful
Will any grass grow in my barren mind?
Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real
It’s my birth of the color
Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind
And mine were shut such a long time ago
You were the only one who ever opened them
Fruit cake. Fresh and ready to age.
Old cirious books. Cold weather.
Guitar heroine, in blond hair.
I hold this card
Little bit of paper
I’m nothing here
Hollow now, I stand
The wombat I drew
I’m not even sure it got to you
I couldn’t come
I hold this card with the moon
And I just can’t stop thinking about
How I couldn’t visit you
Gentle careful aches for touch
Much sense filled to almost brimming
In your kisses I am swimming
Bring, bring us tendril islands
Let’s go together
Lost on our island forever
Never, ever be anything but us
Oh, flounder and thrust
Tickle, trickles into a caress
I’m sorry but I might make a mess
Wispering silence as much as you can best
The lick of a breast
For long our nibbles
Trouble with tribbles
Plays quitely on your TV
I steal a kiss passionately
Clever girl, your gasping breath says
Tendril of your tounge finds
Sipping your wine, for it’s time
For partaking of mine
Put into motion
Drinking this potion
Lost in my ocean
Trees sitting still in autumn rain
Sometimes, music comes to me
Pain, goes and sits and watches
It’s just a reminding present
Of my body’s sore and broken promises
Past my mistakes and indeed was it fate?
Decided and debating and devised
In my head it’s always active like a new hive
White is my life, grey woman is my namesake
But new green, shoots and roots
Grow in my hair
I’m sure they’ll be the new trees ready to stand
Still in the autumn rain