Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
We made them
nurture them during the day
fist punch full of glitter
mesmerizing the night
a sky full of glittering stars
I see you
I see me
Not being chosen
I see you having more fun
I see you walk by in your seducing scarlet jumpsuit casuallly dismissing me
I see your lips with a dark shade of  maroon moving and not a single moment of silence
I see your hazel brown eyes not even glancing  towards me
I see the red-brown of your hair but they face me
I see your long silver earings dangling and shaking as you laugh
I see the golden bracelets in your hand  slide back as you tie your hair
I see you
I see me
                             All alone
When you are nothing more than a second choice
I stumbled upon you
Like a child
that finds a pretty stone

Bewildered by your presence
I sat and admired
Counting your cracks
Caressing what makes you glitter

You stood infront of me
Bold and beautiful
Like nothing I'd ever seen

And as you gave me your attention
I think I misconstrued your intentions

I wanted to put you in my pocket
But you said no

So there you sit
Perfectly unpolished
A love

I can only visit
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
Robby
Be patient with me
I’m still a work in progress

Somedays I seem put together
But that paint’s not dry just yet

One day I’ll get this right
I’m sorry
For Al, who left us, Nov. 22, 2014

With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.

Al,
You ask me when the words come:

With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,

Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for body restoration,
Transpositional for poetic creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.

Al, you ask me from where do the words come:

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here, 
poem aborning!
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied!

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
__________
(this poem more than most,
for its birth celebrates
my loss, your loss,
which cannot be exonerated 8/7/18)


__________
written at 4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012

Greenport Harbor, N.Y.
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
jerely
Wake up by the sea
As I watched the coconut trees
persuade in a magical romantic moon and dust
short poem
Nov 5, 2019
Jerelii
Copyright
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
jerely
Clover of leaf in life
Bestowed to care to show
One's taste of santan
And the sweet caramel
Of the autumn leaves.
jerelii
@copyright
Nov 2,19
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
Laiba
You are somebody's reason
To smile today
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
Lex
Burn
 Nov 2019 Tafuta Atarashī
Lex
Pass the bottle to me,
but before you do
let it linger on your lips.
I want to taste you,
right before the burn of the liquor hits
Next page