Posts Tagged With: love

Courage

With my halcyon days so far behind me that
they no longer even cast a shadow,
as what I know to be my last years begin
to climb out of the depths,
wrapping their ropes around my ankles to
slow my steps, hunch my back,
eke the marrow from my bones,

I find myself wandering the cemetery
in the sunshine,
under fluffy clouds and winging birds,
to visit a plot that for a decade,
I pretended did not exist.

I stray from the path, because really,
why not, when there’s no one on guard;
I doubt there’s much market for broad-daylight
grave pilfering,
but I wouldn’t know much about such things,
myself

I had heard you were gone; even in introversion,
news travels as fast as the speed of a click
and there’s always some who
can’t seem to wait
to start a conversation with the words ‘oh hey, have you heard?’

I still thought about you all the time,
even then, so many years from
when I had last seen your face,
my own eyes shimmering tears, doubled
the sheen of those gleaming in yours
and then, pfft, never again

would I have looked longer,
I wonder,
if I had known that I would
never see you face to face again?
It didn’t seem like a thing that could be,
a truth that still made no sense,
when reality sits in your lap
and you don’t even realize you have company

And so here I am now,
shuffle stepping to your marker,
stooped and angry,
still mad, still furious, that you
couldn’t manage to be that man,
the one that I saw the first time that I met you,
that was leaps and bounds ahead
of the one that I left behind,
even though I loved you

i’m not here to say goodbye,
I’ve talked to you so often in my head
and doing it when you’re alive and not near
is even more pointless than doing it
when you’re already dead.

If my epitaph stood next to yours,
these many crumpled years later,
Yours, I think, would say goodbye.
And mine, mine would only say I tried.

***

So, I used to join in at The Speakeasy (which I really loved) with Suzanne, and it was brought back into the fold of the Yeah Write community – so I figured I’d give it a try over here.

I pretty much wrote the whole thing around the optional prompt that was given:
What is written in the stone?

As soon as I pound some more words out for NaNo, I very much look forward to reading the other stories. Click on the badge at the top of the post if you’d like to check out all of the other cool stuff going on.

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Categories: Fiction, Poetry | Tags: , , , , , | 15 Comments

around the eyes

you look tired, my dear,
a little peaked around the eyes,
a little pinched around the mouth…
are you well?

i am, i am well,
thank you,
and i am tired,
but i am worn through
for all the right reasons.

there was fresh air to
inhale,
and birdsong to hear,
there were beetles to say hello to,
flowers to admire,
sunset reflections in
stagnant ponds
that caught the world,
upside-down.

there were words to speak,
laughs to have,
blisters to be gained
from too many steps,
too many miles,
in cheap shoes.

later,
an offering of love,
warm skin,
hard muscles and rough hands,
deep breaths and soft sighs…

sleep, when it finally arrived,
was well earned;
i have earned my tired eyes.

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Love Begins, and Ends

Love, a tour de force,

A phenomenon,
juxtaposed in nature,
it strives,
digs roots,
lazily reclines
outside its den,
it sleeps, and it wakes,
a beast and a bunny,
it dances and stumbles,
and dreams

When love came to roost,
to make a home,
as it were,
the predators
circled around,
sunk claws
into soft spots,
and found the heart

it fluttered for a moment,
magnificent in its struggle,
then wilted and lay still

~~~

As soon as I read the prompt line for the speakeasy #159, for some reason I immediately had a vision of love as a wilting flower ( Shakespeare’s birthday, mayhap? ). Hahaha, I meant as an influence, not that I channeled The Bard in my nonsense 🙂

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , | 17 Comments

No Photographs, Please

“No, don’t take my picture!’  She batted his phone away, giggling but serious.  “I’m like Dorian Gray.”

 

He stopped trying to hold her still and stared.  “What?”

 

“Dorian Gray.  He’s an Oscar Wilde character,” she began before he interrupted her.

 

“I know who Dorian Gray is, asshole.  I meant what, like what the hell do you mean you’re like him.”

 

“Oh.  Ha.  Um, I mean that the camera doesn’t really give a shit about the details behind the details and it just shows your ugly bits.  Like, it’s all haha look at those wrinkles, but it doesn’t know if they’re from laughing or smiling or scowling.  It has no idea the circles under my eyes are from being up the past three nights with a pukey kid.  It just says, hey, freeze frame this moment so she can forever remember the giant zit on the middle of her nose.  Plus, I look like a dude in pictures.”

 

He laughed so hard at that he had to curl on his side.  “What,” he gasped, “are you talking about?  You don’t look anything like a dude.”

 

She punched him in the arm.  “I do too,” she insisted.  “Strong jawline, strong nose, big forehead.”  She flexed her muscles.  “Like a dude.”

 

“You’re so stupid.  Also, you’re starting to make me uncomfortable.”

 

She heaved out a heavy sigh and flopped back onto the pillows.  “What’s your problem now?”

 

She sat back up and gave him the hairy eyeball.  “What makes you think I have a problem?”

 

“Your body language.”

 

“Oh yeah?”  She grinned, flipping her arm behind her head and hunching over, bent at an odd angle.  “What does my body language say now?”

 

He grinned back at her.  “That you can be flexible and deflective at the same time.”

 

It felt good to laugh along with him, so she did.  “Seriously, though.  Don’t take my picture.”

 

************************************************************

I told my kid the other night that I was giving him the hairy eyeball because he kept ignoring my directive to wash the damn dishes, already.  This prompted much too much thought about this weird saying and having it stick in my head, so I stuck it in here instead.

Oh, and while trying to look up the origin of the saying, I found out there apparently is a condition that actually causes HAIRY EYEBALLS.  There’s pictures….http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2256639/Hairy-eyeball-Rare-limbal-dermoid-causes-Iranian-man-sprout-hairs-eye.html

 

Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , , , | 6 Comments

Burn for me

IMG_0246[1]

 

 

 

 

 

You could never love me enough

 

I want you to drown in it,

revel in it,

as your head goes under the waves

 

I want it to burn in your gut,

to flame through your eyes, and your fingers,

your skin reflecting the glow of a thousand embers

as you reach for me

 

You could never love me enough,

there is no such thing

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , | 4 Comments