Tag Archives: poem

Red Poppy

Red Poppy

How sad it was.

I grew into the woods, a silent form among the trees. I belonged there, so straight and still.
I threw my love into a million pieces. I gave it away. And my heart cried for them back, as the struggle spoke of the difficulty of finding love returned. For, they killed me with it, dearest. My heart frozen into shards and sent burrowing back into my veins. They killed me with my love.

The wind in my winter found my face. Bitterness and burnt cheeks from kissing Requiem. How my love burned inside my body, like icy waters lapping at my sternum and burrowing into my eyelids while sleep availed me.
And so I stood on that embankment of my soul, a harrowed ship in a grey sea. And I closed my eyes to my despair to breathe in my future, but the salt burned my lungs.
Perhaps that is the price of soul, to burn with such intensity. To feel lit up in a room of black particles, landing on your shoulders like ash.
Burn Burn Burn.
Oh light of love.
Red poppy rise from the ashes.




What will come of tomorrow?

When you’re gone and I have nothing but your scent on the breeze to hold?

What will cause my heart to leap up with elation and hope?

What small token may I take from it all?


The moment draws close.

Like the looming autumn rain

I look up at the inky sky and whisper your name to myself.

Wishing to be warm in the fire of your eyes.


When every word is about you

And every kiss I kiss tells a story.

But more so for when I don’t kiss your boyish mouth

For that is when I want to the most.


Across the room, your eyes trickle down me

Standing still like alabaster symmetry.

Can you hear my forest eyes whisper your name?

Deeper into the wood. Deeper into the dusk.


My feet dance through our asphalt jungle

Light and soundless as the hanging moon

The beating drum of your hips on mine,

Caterpillar-shivers up your spine.


Oh, the music between us. Our voices, our admission

The guitar in my hair, and your smooth flute lips

Gnawing cello played on my neck, with the piano,

pressing, upon your shoulders. Symphony and harmony.



Red waves drowning your sweet expression, breathing

The ecstasy into our lungs.

All sound forgotten, just touch

a hundred etchings of release.


The quiet that comes, breathing heavy and deep

Skin the only barrier, between heaven and hell

Limbo absolving us for a brief moment

Our warmth starting fires in the sky


I have drawn lines around my heart.

The cursive wrongs that fit so perfectly

In the confines of your arms

Among the scent of muffled emotions.


Your battle-scarred back, is some reminder

To you of days that passed in the wilds.

But to me you have earned every measure

Of the stripes you bare. Warrior of the sun.


Your solitude comes, unbidden. A strong

Wind to take you away from the night you love.

What bronze left in your bones, must keep you safe

Among the jackals teeth, and the desert storm.


The sound of your leaving is so loud

Like a siren blare in my mind, eating at the edges

Of the books that hold my adoration

Burning me like a fire.


I have felt quiet leaving, which dies a slow death

I have felt the leaving of dreams, which slips

Out from under your feet in a crash

I have felt suddenness, which takes your breath


But this.

What is this leaving?

Such a burning in my stomach

The slow decay of my sanity.


Why must you go, leaving behind my trail of feigned acceptance?

When everyone leaves, but I wished that someone might have

Decided to stay. The need in their eyes as great as mine

I wished too hard for wings to fly.



Winter in July

Winter in July

Winter has yet begun again.

That crispness in the air, the bite of the wind, the scent of wood burning off the chill.

I sit in front of the stove, pushing the stubborn logs into the mouth of the flame, and think of you. I think about these walls, how we built them together. How we laid and stained the trim. How we cut and nailed boards together. I think of how resilient it is, the caressing warmth from the hearth. It does not escape, it doesn’t leave as you do.

Mostly, I remember. I remember some closeness, some strange endeavor of the heart. Walking in that cold wind, the snow drifting and filling, measuring time like delicate frozen grains of sand in the world that was just ours. So far from everything, from our beds and our lies. It seemed more real somehow. More real than those sweltering summer days that followed.

But you’re gone now. Perhaps that’s for the best. Perhaps it was all just a fantasy. A world of snow trapped in a globe. Perhaps I will find something more real than you. More real than my thoughts of you. You pace. You walk away with a whistle on your lips, singing some song that I can’t hear, or don’t recognize.

Off with your tail in the air once again.

But I think this time, I’ll let you go.


The Romantics’

The Romantics’

The carousel keeps singing, the longing of goodbye.

A childhood spent spinning, left a dizzy dragonfly.


Time may fly, but we made attempt to cut off its tender wings.

To stop the future coming, a youth drawn up on strings.

Oh what a twisted puppet show we all try to perform.

Convinced that it’s our freedom, for which we’ve gone to war.


Fight fire with whiskey, try to douse melancholy of the soul.

And pray the heat absolves you, and somehow makes you whole.

The wickedness of broken hearts, the shallowness of depth.

To give my all to something until there’s nothing left.


When desert sun burns skin, to which no one gives shade.

The same for those who love alone, filled up with weary shame.

But still it keeps on spinning, that tinny mobile circus.

I hold my head back, dreaming, a beginning with no purpose.


I’m back again, sweet lion, your mouth in frozen triumph.

The horses brightly dressed, beside the tiger are defiant.

Unicorns and elephants, all a handsome roux.

We foundlings, distracted by color, ignorant and new.


Why does the alcohol not wash my memories away?

Why do I stand objective, unto its power play?

Perhaps it’s memory too strong, and loves lost along the way.

If only someone had turned around and decided that they’d stay.


All you need, it may be love, but a sinister of sorts.

To make me choose between the air and a love that hurts.

But it’s a phantom pain, a limb long ago severed.

Like the singing carousel, a mirage of things remembered.


Perhaps the heart misunderstands our diligent rebuilding.

Lost in the field in scrutiny, dirty with the searching.

Behold and take these broken hands, these nails abrupt and wanton.

They worked at love and begged for freedom, but were left forgotten.


Their only use remains upon the grasping of the frame.

Of the metal menagerie and the memories that remained.

Around. Around. Around. On autumn winds we spin.

While the pain glows ever brighter and the light grows ever dim.


Wishes are just lady bugs, swept on a wistful breeze.

Little delicate emotions that hide among the leaves.

Now comes the part where we pretend to not notice each other.

While the fire burns at one end, and we play poker on the other.


Meanwhile, my heart won’t quiet so my thoughts can gather round.

So they come out in my smile when thoughts of you abound.

What a strange contradiction that the joy upon my face

Is not quite reflected in that dark and hidden place.


For I am just a passenger, upon this dizzy parade.

For hopeless romantics, was the art of dreaming made.


I Pondered

I Pondered

I sat and pondered about you today.

How strange it is that you do not see me, that we speak different languages of love.

For I see you so clearly, so many facets yet a simple honest truth in your eyes.

I pondered.

You are the milkyway. Chaos in motion, traveling in perfect harmony. The lights. The darks. The glimmer of a thousand suns. I feel the potential in it all. A hundred worlds to be made. A thousand leagues to be crossed. Spinning, spinning. Motion with purpose and strength. A behemoth of energy.

I pondered.

You are the forest path. Tall and wild, mimicking the sky up above. Paths through the air, through the roots below. Twisting, turning, fluid in motion. I feel the adventure in it all. A hundred worlds to be explored. A thousand miles to be eaten up. Bounding, bounding. Motion with patience and mystery. A slippery snake of spirit.

I pondered.

You are the fire raging. Strength in motion, a graceful dance of light. The heat. The hunger. The movement of a creature, created. I feel the excitement in it all. A hundred worlds to be ignited. A thousand minds to be caressed. Twisting, twisting. Motion with ferocity and beauty. A howl of the heart.

I pondered.

How strange it is that we are people of Babble to each other. Yelling of love into the night, hoping, wishing the other is listening. But, alas, we are strangers in a land not our own, a virus of the heart for each other. Our languages are only our own.

Yet still, I pondered. But in my pondering I only found my love for you. And nothing else seemed to matter.

Too Far

Too Far

Strings of emotion straining at attention

Every cell remembering your face, your smell

Each body in the crowd, a warm memory of you

Each glance towards them a disappointment.


Your wings lifted you up so suddenly, I was taken aback

Standing too close to the edge, I stumbled back against the thin air

A gauze of insecurity that I broke through as I fell

So hard I landed, no feathers as you. You were my home.


How comforting was your touch, you hugging me against your chest

So deep it felt like I had found that solid and warm place inside

And suddenly you’re gone. And I feel that a hole has opened

What mighty wind could have called you away so forcefully?


How I adored tracing the line of your jaw, the black heather of your nape.

How I loved exploring the hills and caverns of your muscles

The supple plum of your lips, the green ring of forest that falls upon my bareness.

The slicing grace of your shoulder blades, your hips.


How I recall your voice, tentative but harsh

Smothering my thoughts as we lay together, warm in our cocoon.

A gentle hushing like waves on my pale shores

Your laugh jovial against the cavern walls, your hair wet.


All the others must adore you, your rasping touch

What am I to you but a single blue forgetmenot

Amoung the field of rose petals? Just a small token among

Boastings of love. It will not take you long to find another.


My shock turned to pain and disappointment

My anger born from a place of stolen moments

My feelings a rough stone against my flesh

And a confusion unto my heart and mind.


I stood watching in bleak surrender, taillights

You were too far yet to cry out, to feel my touch

I sat with the words in my hands like pathetic

gifts of the heart, simple, blunt and true.


Body of Water

Body of Water

Missing you is an endless wave, full to breaking with ebbing and flowing.
My heart is a stone, beat-beat-beating the waves.
A hum and hush of the surf, your steady lungs breathing me in.
Lips meeting like the surf among the sand, tiny bits of glass shimmering on your tongue.
They slice my heart open, love exposed, like the tender sea foam spilling out into our midst. 

Waves of my hips, rolling toward heaven.
The arch of my back, a cave for our haven.
Your eyes like the depths of the ocean, green and stormy and searching.
I am the hawk overhead, seeking a place to lay. I am the golden watery floor, always deep in your touch.
You call to me, a brine of words most needed. I seek you out, sweet waters from the depths.

Fathom after fathom, a graph of lines. Weaving up and down with the speed of my heart. Radiation in my bones, set of flesh storms that rage upon you.
The curl of your fingers, gripping the beach.
Your overflowing, your filling, your viscous touch.
My skin layed out, a cove of safety. Your thoughts like little boats, tied to the shore.
Your sun drenched skin, the winds in your dark hair. The sound of thunder in my chest.

You are vicious, as am I, but gentle in your bones. The patient, steadiness of ripples. The crash and beauty of hurricanes. The eye spinning round and round, piercing my mind with your calm need. You are around me, I am the waters rising up. Sky and earth becoming one, water reaching for water. Rain and wave.

Oh how your shades morph, green blue white. I see the dark and the light. I see the current of your stomach, the rocky cliff of your shoulders. The gulf of your collarbone invites me to stay.
I feel the danger of the it all. I feel the panic. But I cannot help myself. I must swim in that ocean. I must bathe in your wake.
We are the storm. We are the tide. We are danger.

We are love.