NOW Cupid, once, he made a fool of me, He struck me with his wayward, golden dart; And all at once I felt sweet agony, Just like a glowing ember in my heart. I heard a voice; then something caught my eye; An orange butterfly came into view; And then again that voice, this time,
Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
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She made her soda by the handful, three handfuls of flour, a pinch of salt, a pinch of soda, a half pint of buttermilk, from an urn, not a carton. She made her soda by the handful, one hand that threw dirt on the lid of her sister’s coffin, the other holding an orphaned son.
Welcome, welcome I’ve waited for you. Now pray tell, what did you do? Walk passed the hungry, ignoring you knew? Or was it more sinister thought through and well planned? I see you have blood smeared on your hands. You humans don’t get it. Selfishly laughing, open-eyed blind. Each tear you cause others is your
Do I dare? As the earth revolves And the sun is Obfuscated from my vision The stars begin their dance While the planets Continue their waltz. And in the island of their movement Is the ocean of the Milky Way Itself a cosmic island In the ocean of creation. I live in the smallest island
When the night train leaves the terminal, It’s body cold as a corpse, It’s lights alive as chickens in The butcher’s cage, I sit bunched up in my Flea market shawl beside the closed windows. I play that game of counting stations Like we used to when we Headed home the three of us After
Where the tide line of reality and dreams appear We stand. Uncertainty and reassurance walking hand in hand. Enjoying the kisses of the salty breeze, at the same time feeding the wind it’s flavour. Unable to indulge in our creation. Held back by our unforeseen future, crippled by our humanity but empowered by the forces
How deep is the hole I fell into That light does not shine upon my naked soul Am I to live all eternity bound in this grave Once I heard your voice sing but only silence Greets my ears now Has unbound love forsaken me And taken light with her If only my hands could
The wine the wine it tastes so divine… The world is our oyster with pearls before swine… The laughter and rejoicing in everyone’s mind… The food is as fulfilling as times are so fine… The moon is full as my heart is entwined… The riches of love are to see hope eternally in beautiful blue
When you think you have beauty in your life and it is taken When you think a world is born of your own mind’s eye; creation When lies are the commonest words spoken without deprecation When the dark nights become your only truest salvation When you believe in two hearts becoming one in love’s manifestation
Now here’s my bloody sonnet for today, A trifle for my daily exercise; It’s best I try to keep it light and gay, Tho’ truly I am full of heavy sighs. My muse has been holding himself aloof, Yet condescends to text my mobile phone; He says he thinks poetry’s for poufs! When will he
I watched the boys clamor amorous and sweet for their little girls who stand black on the street and you’ll crash I swear it back down to earth you’ll wear their frowns beneath bronzed, rough skin doused with confidence and cologne you’ll be sorry you ever spread your lips Flaxen hair and bright pink shoes
Sleepless night Windy outside I counted the stars None is as shiny None as bright As my eyes When they meet yours Short blond hair A look like you don’t care But why did our hearts stop When our eyes lock Why is it so That you come to me only during the night Why
What foolishness you dear men, think of me, am a stick Mere pole, with no life nor living strength, but thy force; That you felt inactive, is my strength, me a poor branch of a tree, Cut apart and fell down, from its life, dried, and painted. Its you, men, who hold me and keep
Our love is not the stuff of legends, of poisons, of letters written with blood. ours is the gentle, everyday love. of fingers run through hair. of legs thrown upon legs. of little things. of wearing each other’s clothes. of making each other’s meal. of love, confessed for the thousandth time, as if it is
You are supernova star dust, remnants of a sun turned inside out; born anew. Elemental matter from swirling nebulae, drawn together by gravity to form a rocky mass, at exactly the right distance from another star, itself formed in precise proportion to shine for long enough, with just enough warmth, for elements to randomly collide,