~-English-~

The Beauty Of Flowers (Multiple Tankas II)

The garden trellis
Climbing Salêt Moss rose blooms
Perfume light and sweet.
Light lavender-pink blossoms—
Nice outside or in a vase.

English bluebells dance
On either side of the path
In the cool forest
They nod and sway in sunlight
Lifting their heads to the dawn

Meadows full of blooms
Larkspurs, Daisies, and Poppies
All create beauty.
So splendid a sight to see
In the Spring and Summertime.

Near the Dutch windmill
Daffodils and iris bloom
In the warm sunshine
During the sweet summer day
They look towards the blue sky

Waterfalls o'er stones,
Mossy and slick though they be
My eyes do behold;
Trillium of white and mauve,
All amid Running Cedar.

~Timothy & Marian~


~-French-~
La beauté des fleurs (plusieurs Tankas II)


Le treillis de jardin
Escalade Salêt Moss rose fleurs
Parfum léger et doux.
Lumière des fleurs de lavande-rose —
Nice à l'extérieur ou dans un vase.

Danse de jacinthes des bois français
De chaque côté du chemin
Dans la forêt cool
Il hoche la tête et se balancent en plein soleil
Soulever la tête à l'aube

Prés de fleurs
Larkspurs, marguerites et coquelicots
Tous créent de la beauté.
Tellement splendide un spectacle à voir
Au printemps et en été.

Près du moulin à vent hollandais
Les jonquilles et les fleurs de l'iris
Dans la chaleur du soleil
Pendant la journée été doux
Ils regardent vers le ciel bleu

Chutes d'eau sur les pierres,
Moussu et luisante, bien qu'ils
Mes yeux Voici ;
Trille blanc et mauve,
Tout au milieu des Cèdres en cours d'exécution.

*~ Timothy et Marian ~

The waterlilies
Float above graceful Koi fish
White and cherry red
Amongst ripples cast through ponds
Of alternate dimensions

Whilst white sakura
Flow like the wind through long hair
Outside car windows
During the sunniest days
Of an endless rain season

Clouds glide across sky
Like those wet waterlilies
In search of lost time
Yearning for life in the warm
Recesses of all-being

Springtime Had Melted,
Within Summer's Newfound Noon,
The Crickets Had Chirped,
Though The Evening Was Faroff,
Lurking Within The Blue Sky

The Scent Of Lush Lawn,
Had Permeated The Air,
The Sparrows Had Sang,
Harmonizing With The Breeze,
And The Finches Beside Them

The White Clouds Had Crawled,
Pulling Themselves Past The Sun,
Casting Shade Upon,
The Tops Of The Greenest Trees,
Who Had Whispered Summer's Hymn

My Throat Red And Raw,
I Am Drinking From The Sea,
My Reflection Blurred,
Frigid Yet Soft Like The Stars,
My Eyes Dark And Vacant*

                         My Fists Are Clenching,
                      Trembling In Waning Light,
                           I'm Thinking Of You,
                  For I've Dreamed Of You Again;
                           A Pale,  Lonely Memory

You Are Small And Frail,
Wrapped In A Plaid Comforter,
Tears Roll Down Your Cheeks;
You Were Thinking Back To Me,
When Your Hell Had Just Began

                              I'm Biting My Lip,
              While Watching The Leaves Recoil,
                             I Am Fidgeting,
                  Taping My Pen Rhythmically,
                     Trying To Distract Myself

I Breathe In Deeply,
My Heart Is Beating Too Fast,
I Gently Touch You,
You Turned To Look In My Eye,
You Murmured,"Why Are You Here?"

                                I Rub My Forehead,
                        My Palm As Cold As The Air,
                               I Stare At The Ground,
                      My Thoughts Are Disorganized,
                      Strewn Around, Pictures Of You

I've Jumped In The Sea,
Your Sad Eyes Have Seen Me Off,
For Some Strange Reason,
I Don't Feel Satisfaction,
Only A Hint Of Pity

                                   I Do Feel Relieved,
                     Not Because You Have Crumbled,
                                 But Because I'm Free,
                    I Am Free From Your Strained Grasp,
                      For You Had Said That One Word

*Goodbye

~~~~Winter~~~~
The blue moon shimmers,
Light grazing my frosted soul,
Each snowflake smiles,
When the sun returns the day,
If only she could be mine

                         *~~~~Summer~~~~
                        My heart burns brightly
                        The pain so very intense
                        For I am the flame
                        But my love belongs in frost
                        If only I could have him

~~~~Winter~~~~
The days grew longer,
As she quietly approached,
Her strides warmed the grounds,
But as soon as she reached me,
I was no longer myself

                      ~~~~Summer~~~~
                        His hair wasn't shards
                        His face was no longer ice
                        But he was now mine
                        Ever so slow I touched him
                        But my smile like him melted

Created By Bailey Kreutzer And Sydney Kakuk)

Divorce
It electrified
my impulses, demolished
my beliefs, left me
face down in bed, stark naked.
I can't go home anymore.

Give
I lived in your rib,
felt each breath you took with me.
You blew out a cloud.
"Sing some sorrow ocean blues.
We can drown holding hands, love."

Take**
She thought of me
as LSD, I changed her world
with guaranteed leave.
Absorbed me through her tongue tip,
expelled me with every spit.

~~~~Winter~~~~
The blue moon shimmers,
Light grazing my frosted soul,
Each snowflake smiles,
When the sun returns the day,
If only she could be mine

                         **~~~~Summer~~~~
                        My heart burns brightly
                        The pain so very intense
                        For I am the flame
                        But my love belongs in frost
                        If only I could have him

~~~~Winter~~~~
The days grew longer,
As she quietly approached,
Her strides warmed the grounds,
But as soon as she reached me,
I was no longer myself

                      ~~~~Summer~~~~
                        His hair wasn't shards
                        His face was no longer ice
                        But he was now mine
                        Ever so slow I touched him
                        But my smile like him melted

Man and boy laughing,
their kite dipping on the breeze.
In the silent house,
woman reads Sunday papers,
ear attuned to one car sound.

Midnight-blue swamphen,
first tracks in the dewy grass.
A mist hides the lake,
a spire rising from the mist,
bells tolling, no more silence.

Child cries, hurt in play,
mother comes to console her.
Old woman walks home,
tasting the salt of her tears.
No fire lit for her return.

Girl hangs upside down,
dark hair trailing in the sand.
Gulls dive on ducklings,
dropped from high on hard water,
their blood mingling with the lake.

May I write a Shakespearian sonnet on
the square inches of skin
between your thumb joint and elbow?
I’m a pretty good storyteller,
I can narrate in blank verse if you wish.
Can I write poetry on your spine?
Up and down in broken haikus,
tankas quilting along the curve of your sides.
Perhaps a sestina?
So be it.
I can work bay leaves into tea cakes.
May I write alliterations across your toes,
over finger bones and broken knuckles?
I have enough form poems to
paint my walls a matte black.
Gloppy ink blobs,
carnation stamps,
over raised red lines of a villanelle.3
Can I write poetry on your stomach?
I have soft ballad-dipped brushes
that leak cinnamon sugar.
Acrostic biographies written to a jazz tune,
papier-mâchéd into a handmade piñata.
Spider web hair pins
left in the bathroom sink spell out
another useless cinquain.
May I write a rondeau on your calves,
rising up into your knees?
Epitaphs in your running shoes
make limericks out of the hail in your back yard.
Don’t try super gluing petals back onto stems,
they’ll fall apart eventually.
Poetry is written on you like paper.

The carillon bells
Ring to celebrate a man
The tower is strong
The music ethereal
The metal clappers striking

Four bells become three
Each tolls a biography
Catholic Central High
Carroll College French classes
Manhattan Paris Lisbon

Three chords one chorus
Many banjo strings twanging
To honor one man
A lovely still life hanging
A note in perfect cursive

Two bells together
Laughing singing travelling lots
Two souls two hearts one
A home full of love and cats
A home of ringing bell chimes

Looking forward back
Eyes opening to the other
Ears awake and true
They dedicate an album
A domestic partnership

Music and flowers
To honor the resting man
In a niche that loves
Where family sings and prays
Where two are one together


© Lewis Bosworth, 7-2017

Sometimes we get the itch.
It's annoying & persistent & insatiable.
We've all felt it,
that hand twitch when you hear
pen against paper,
that foot tap while you mumble
to yourself.  
It's actually quite natural.
It happens because
our bones are filled with syntax,
our skin is parchment
& our thoughts are iambic meters.
If they were to draw blood,
unwritten love poems would
bleed out of us.
We can't help it.
We can't help it that
sonnets & haikus & tankas & free verses
line our lungs,
that we breathe in rhymes.
Because if we try to repress
our God-given inclination
we'll get **the poet's itch.

i heard her outside
from the hazy veil of steam
streamed red on pure white
bones broken by brotherhood
what have you done, who are you -- -

shrouded youth in dreams
silent voicemails at midnight
complacent lovers
rewritten in scars of heat
where we cower from the light

all I remember
as distillation began
is this can’t be you
green eyed boy, brown curly hair
evisceration of souls

haunting these spaces
this house of sloshing stale wine
forgetting first loves
stitching bone and marrow
until time grows clean unharmed.

x

this must be the place
where no softness will reach us
all you have is now
the pool between our bodies
stillness in the night