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May 2012 · 522
i tell her sleep
Jennifer May 2012
I tell her sleep…sleep now
There is only the place where love isn’t
and it is dark and quite cold
It’s alright to sleep

Soon enough the war cry will begin anew
Get on with it
Keep on keeping on
Get a move on
All of these and more
Assaulted with cliches she falls in line to avoid the blood letting

Bear witness to the unruly beat of my neglected heart
She beats her wings to battered on the inside of the bars; to no avail
So she sits on her perch and stares out through the thick black lines that separate her vision into columns

love with fangs comes to call occasionally
It will feast gently on her large artery
Just barely tasting the sweetness of lifeblood on the surface
Shuddering in ecstasy in recognizing its preciousness
and in the thrill of the innocent being so shamelessly,
unquestioningly,
trusting;
giving,

blind.  

It drinks willfully from that fount of pure emotion
Lapping up the attention like the syrup of life
But forgets that it’s not the only one that needs feeding
and shuts off the tap when her heart begs refilling of any kind and her wings are tired

scrambling over the wall
retreating to a safe distance to watch the scavengers fly overhead
waiting for her cries to fade

til’ she becomes only a papery shell
Apr 2012 · 883
timbers fall
Jennifer Apr 2012
He reminds me of magic -
child's eyes; quick, wise, fearful eyes
swallowed by folds on folds of time
How old he looks
the man with the child in his eyes
"Take my strength, Grampa"
a squeeze
              he knows I'm here
and a river of
  love  strength  frustration
travels up
  down
my
  our
arms
like an electric current.
Some ghosts photographs leave smiles on my mind
hugs like big, warm, heavy blankets
safe in Grampa's arms
still a little girl
        if I could take off this **** mask I could make him smile
Sliding down a razor blade in slow motion
     A monster that eats you up from the inside
        is scarier
than any
        hiding under my bed
shakes
shivers

timbers fall
even the strongest of old oak trees
written about my grandfather's battle with cancer...and written many years ago. one of my first.
Apr 2012 · 650
sleep watcher
Jennifer Apr 2012
Quietly I watch you sleep
early morning light
rays beaming a soft whiteyellow aura of peace around us
really only dust and dawning of reality blooming
but isn't it nice to pretend?
I want to visit oblivion again
forget
sleep
close myself off
make it all solve itself because I don't have the answers anymore
I turn
we spoon
close our eyes
reveling in that warm place of security – however false
     I pretend a hammock
the sound of the sea
you rubbing my calves with a coconut smelling oil
and the quiet warm light spills through the trees
I smile and remember
Apr 2012 · 451
black on black
Jennifer Apr 2012
even in the snow she comes
her voice pecking holes in the dark shade of night
'can't sleep; can't sleep'
     cries the prophet
sounds like black on black in here
            tick tock
                    goes the clock
     too many voices within my dear
wish the white blanket outside
could fall
              down
it's quiet magic on my mind
if nothing else
      there's always this
the calming silence of winter's kiss

"what ** - what **"
                        the raven cries
in the middle of the dark,
stand I
Mar 2012 · 508
river mine
Jennifer Mar 2012
looking inward,
there is water running rampant ~
crashing
   blasting
roaring through the canyons of my mind

white frothing fingers claw at the banks of my soul like a searing liquid metal
(and I wonder, in my dream state; "since when is water hot?")

I drown;
    gasping....
losing the wind and reaching for light
knowing...somewhere there is calm
    hidden cavern
               space of quiet spirit
my eyes ever searching for that slow pool

so I can lean in and
take
a drink
of
me....

— The End —