e-leandra-cordero - Hello Poetry

Another late-in-the-day Same way Such a shame No sweat Going sane Don't fret Never tame Heat of the moment Something potent Brings me back Nostalgic flack Heavy with a boost of fullness Coolness Cutting to the bone 'Til the sun hath shone A freighter of light Crashing down to land Superman, Superman! The end is near The end is here The time to drive is over The bunkers and the shelters all hung over Heat brimming with its closeness Waves of air swimming with its force Light to blind The fickle mind That caved straight in the moment it was given time

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Dec 13, 2011

Dec 13, 2011 at 11:29 PM UTC

Superman!

Another late-in-the-day Same way Such a shame No sweat Going sane Don't fret Never tame Heat of the moment Something potent Brings me back Nostalgic flack Heavy with a boost of fullness Coolness Cutting to the bone 'Til the sun hath shone A freighter of light Crashing down to land Superman, Superman! The end is near The end is here The time to drive is over The bunkers and the shelters all hung over Heat brimming with its closeness Waves of air swimming with its force Light to blind The fickle mind That caved straight in the moment it was given time

27

Me oh my! Mercy me! Something's descended from the tall pine tree; It grew through my childhood; It grew through my roof; Straight up from the floor A seed made for sorrow All the life it could borrow To make itself huger Than huger Than huge Yet What's this? What gives? It does? Does it give? It has swayed for nine decades (Nine and three quarters to be specific) And now comes opportunity Mystère Magnifique! A future, a glimmer Of reward and desire Polished leaves, rough-edged shade Up and up, up much higher It is homely Somewhat dusty It bites and it barks It is all of my past It is parts of my parts With its paints in my skin and its dust in my nose There is no certain knowledge of just where it goes Still The brush keeps rewinding Still the morning is lighter Above me Beneath me That reward my desire Pure and crisp and untouched by guilt Untouched by those mornings all filthy in quilts Different And new Between, through and through I am higher Mainly tired Very saddened Too inspired For I have been reaching Past branches of branches To make that glimmer of a concept More than a concept To make it constant A stream, a beam A dawn But I yawn Take myself to the woodwork A frame on my back without borders Or shame Without quilts Without comfort Me and a tree In a rain kissing sea Cold Sheltered I stare down at the rooftops And watch as my boot drops

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Dec 13, 2011

Dec 13, 2011 at 11:25 PM UTC

Mystère Magnifique!

Me oh my! Mercy me! Something's descended from the tall pine tree; It grew through my childhood; It grew through my roof; Straight up from the floor A seed made for sorrow All the life it could borrow To make itself huger Than huger Than huge Yet What's this? What gives? It does? Does it give? It has swayed for nine decades (Nine and three quarters to be specific) And now comes opportunity Mystère Magnifique! A future, a glimmer Of reward and desire Polished leaves, rough-edged shade Up and up, up much higher It is homely Somewhat dusty It bites and it barks It is all of my past It is parts of my parts With its paints in my skin and its dust in my nose There is no certain knowledge of just where it goes Still The brush keeps rewinding Still the morning is lighter Above me Beneath me That reward my desire Pure and crisp and untouched by guilt Untouched by those mornings all filthy in quilts Different And new Between, through and through I am higher Mainly tired Very saddened Too inspired For I have been reaching Past branches of branches To make that glimmer of a concept More than a concept To make it constant A stream, a beam A dawn But I yawn Take myself to the woodwork A frame on my back without borders Or shame Without quilts Without comfort Me and a tree In a rain kissing sea Cold Sheltered I stare down at the rooftops And watch as my boot drops

65

A star has stowed away In a part of my heart The sky being this large, blunt chart With the bright backbone: a strip of powder cloud And the fussy dust beneath our boots The chaparral under foot Blooming purple, dry, splitting the cough drop earth Red rock by rock Our talking warms me The taste of mint julep and tea We, sweet past times: all they matter Had a nail between us to hammer faster There could have been curtains in our home Were we grown; Cantaloupe soaking in the sink To string up at the brink Think of how dry it got The plants in their *** Unwatered, untouched Living as such-- Meanwhile, the clock combusted Pounded out notes upon every hour Its golden limb swinging up, lilting, wilting in its tower Life deployed beyond this, grazing every flower Their implicit movement stalls; My nights wrapped in my shawls Dark timber bark laments In the fire so well spent Rocking, I have remained here; From the farthest port You came with teeth and things That fringe Deliberate and outward bending, which scorches Retires on porch swings Shares time, stolen from what silent world may be out there Bundled, told: "Handle with care." But I do not care to pick at straws, or to stare Between your eyes, The lines beneath them The calligraphic flourish Touring deep, steeply descending The tiled smile, pretending Creaking, scarcely there and perishing; I have not uttered your name In the dark of this home I have printed it, though, on occasion In the pictures I hang On the walls of this tomb Painted path, fire we fashion All the bits of compassion lodged like salt in my bones Only thinking of your thoughts Sipping slowly from your cup Shuffling to the border in the corner of the world Where the blooming sky is hastened In its spatial recreations That has fallen falls again, Calling back, fiercely contend Dynamics of a spark A black hole tears itself apart The where we are, the where we start; Oh, Come the Day we might Give less regard to light Were I to move to where you are Across the room, one room too far It seems to me that I, in staying Have distended what was fraying Yet I stay- at least today And may tomorrow bring the rolling, cetacean clouds back into orbit May the sun fall with the rain May my love call back again; Once more, I think, Once more.

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Dec 12, 2011

Dec 12, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC

Curtains

A star has stowed away In a part of my heart The sky being this large, blunt chart With the bright backbone: a strip of powder cloud And the fussy dust beneath our boots The chaparral under foot Blooming purple, dry, splitting the cough drop earth Red rock by rock Our talking warms me The taste of mint julep and tea We, sweet past times: all they matter Had a nail between us to hammer faster There could have been curtains in our home Were we grown; Cantaloupe soaking in the sink To string up at the brink Think of how dry it got The plants in their *** Unwatered, untouched Living as such-- Meanwhile, the clock combusted Pounded out notes upon every hour Its golden limb swinging up, lilting, wilting in its tower Life deployed beyond this, grazing every flower Their implicit movement stalls; My nights wrapped in my shawls Dark timber bark laments In the fire so well spent Rocking, I have remained here; From the farthest port You came with teeth and things That fringe Deliberate and outward bending, which scorches Retires on porch swings Shares time, stolen from what silent world may be out there Bundled, told: "Handle with care." But I do not care to pick at straws, or to stare Between your eyes, The lines beneath them The calligraphic flourish Touring deep, steeply descending The tiled smile, pretending Creaking, scarcely there and perishing; I have not uttered your name In the dark of this home I have printed it, though, on occasion In the pictures I hang On the walls of this tomb Painted path, fire we fashion All the bits of compassion lodged like salt in my bones Only thinking of your thoughts Sipping slowly from your cup Shuffling to the border in the corner of the world Where the blooming sky is hastened In its spatial recreations That has fallen falls again, Calling back, fiercely contend Dynamics of a spark A black hole tears itself apart The where we are, the where we start; Oh, Come the Day we might Give less regard to light Were I to move to where you are Across the room, one room too far It seems to me that I, in staying Have distended what was fraying Yet I stay- at least today And may tomorrow bring the rolling, cetacean clouds back into orbit May the sun fall with the rain May my love call back again; Once more, I think, Once more.

72

"By the by," Said Owl to Fly, "I caught you in Spider's web; I spared you for I loved you so Though my love would like to have fled." "I thought," Fly replied, "That you would ask Not for my gratitude Nor for respect- For what am I? But a lowly black speck to you." "You may be small," Owl's lovesick call Was nothing short of determined, "But then how can I Expect love for I feast on rats and vermin!" "So! Ah! We are accursed us Both meant for solitude: Me for my size (Disregarding the eyes) You for your choice in food!" "Although," Owl stated Not one to be bated, "Perhaps we are not so fixed In five years, or eight We may curse our fate And wonder how we never mixed." "But, I!" Said Fly "But what?" Owl replied "I tell you, I've not been so enamored Of something not furry, Not likely to scurry, Since my last supper's end in a clamor." "So shall we?" "We shall." And Fly settled on Owl And the two built a life of compassion 'Tween Fly's buzzing vibrations Owl found a vocation To reverberate love into fashion.

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Dec 12, 2011

Dec 12, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC

Owl and Fly Debate the Debacle of Romance

"By the by," Said Owl to Fly, "I caught you in Spider's web; I spared you for I loved you so Though my love would like to have fled." "I thought," Fly replied, "That you would ask Not for my gratitude Nor for respect- For what am I? But a lowly black speck to you." "You may be small," Owl's lovesick call Was nothing short of determined, "But then how can I Expect love for I feast on rats and vermin!" "So! Ah! We are accursed us Both meant for solitude: Me for my size (Disregarding the eyes) You for your choice in food!" "Although," Owl stated Not one to be bated, "Perhaps we are not so fixed In five years, or eight We may curse our fate And wonder how we never mixed." "But, I!" Said Fly "But what?" Owl replied "I tell you, I've not been so enamored Of something not furry, Not likely to scurry, Since my last supper's end in a clamor." "So shall we?" "We shall." And Fly settled on Owl And the two built a life of compassion 'Tween Fly's buzzing vibrations Owl found a vocation To reverberate love into fashion.

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