Going Home

fading bruises shape butterflies
that flutter from my lungs
to mingle with honeyed visions
& the pale air

I am whole now
in a broken kind of way –
& after all
the bonds will hold.

(Twi)Light’s Tale

bathing in the ocean’s womb
I once saw the moon in tears,
and to mermaid’s silken song
darkened sea became her tomb.

no more stars winked in the night
while the ocean swallowed whole
echoes of abandoned dreams,
for the moon had lost her light.

down below she dwelled for years,
nursed her wounds with flowing sand,
’til, one day, the sun came forth,
dipped his rays into her fears.

and the darkness fled her veins
while he spread his warmth with care
one last sea salt tear she shed ~

to this day, their love remains.

Thin&Stretched

Bilbo once
tape-measured my sanity
but never mentioned that I
was a few inches short

I wish I had known
for I would never have walked into Mordor
without my
own personal Sam

& at the end of the day
it is not The One Ring
that rules us all –
but love, in all its facets.

Preserved

wrap tattered heart in stoic plastic,
smooth the barren earth which you call home
what once you deemed enthusiastic
now grieves beneath your hollow, shattered dome.

so shall the rains unleash your sorrow
wash burden far beyond your lover’s touch
place careful steps, seek fabled tomorrow
for in the end, the hurt won’t hurt so much.

_________________________________
(Yep, I cheated with the meter. Ha.)

2525

filtered sunlight caresses
chalk hearts on mag(net)ic pavement
and i salute those rebel kids
for still knowing
how to play

there is a myth, clinging helplessly
to the bare branches of March
officially permitted
to drown in wifi waves –
stamped and notarized

life is in a hurry,
sporting business suits and clenched jaws
(get out of my way! no time, no TIME!!)
and i wonder
if there is a code in these fateful digits –
the true message:
2525.

Phantom Nights

hold your breath ~
let phantoms fly from your disgusted soul
to tear jagged-stemmed blossoms
from ever-b(e)aring flesh.

hold your breath ~
and rage along the edge of sanity
’till nights dips into morning
and sandpaper screams subside
on tattered tongue.

then
breathe the sunrise.

Ghost Town

will i find you
there ~
where sparrows swallow
milky, filtered twilight;
where curtains sway
in lonely brother’s mournful breath?

will i find you
kneeling ~
chipped nails scratching
dignity’s former grave
into dust-covered floor boards
yet again?

& we wander
between coffee cups and autumn homes
to whatever end.

Perspective

9 Dali oil painting - Archaeological Reminiscence of Millet's Angelus

in the flapping lives of vulnerability
lies the secret to unwanted treasure.
forges belch mediocrity & shackled minds
hammer Gods to plated earth ~
seamlessly.

it is the twisted path of the ancient
we see crumbling at our feet;
and forth we go
to nominate oblivion
as our shepherd.

is that all there is?

____________________________________________________________
artwork: Salvador Dalí’s “Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s Angelus”

Free(d) Spirit

upon the winds, a fatal blow
sends maybe to another place,
and stirs the beat of cold, blue hearts
to meet the serpent, face to face.

upon the winds, a battle fought
with teeth and nails for dearest life,
and purest words evolve from ash
to cloak in light this endless strife.

upon the winds, a second breath
springs from the seed of newfound pride,
that overcame this horrid beast
now fuels purpose, strength and stride.

and on this morn, a soul reborn
perceives the world in more than grey,
lets color flood the dankest dark
upon the winds, she greets the day.

Fragments

ftoospets mlet in pddules
and i lsoe tcrak
for the hnudretdh tmie
tihs day;
i straed too hrad
at dmears lnog psat.

yuor gsohted slmie
is my rdidle,
yuor joureny
my pzzule,
and i am sitll
the one lfet bnihed
atfer all teshe yraes;
not kwnonig wrehe to setp.

__________________________________________________________________
Brian over at dVerse invites us to write a poem about puzzles for Poetics today. I assure you, this poem’s not written in a foreign tongue. Heh. 😉 Grab a pen and join us at the bar!

Left Behind

sometimes i wish
for an empty nest ~
winged thoughts
would soar to the skies;
would leave me with nothing but
abandoned feathers & reminiscent twigs

sometimes i wish
for an empty nest ~
a new dawn;
and a breath of precious silence.