Feathered woman,
With wings that grew
between shoulder blades,
Point me to the gates,
Forgive my brooding,
The clocks stood still,
One hand pointed me north,
The other set to the south,
So please if I may ask of you,
To lend me your wisdom,
Point me to my destination,
Because time forgot to tell

How can I say no?
To a heart like yours,
One that beats insistent,
In tune to my favorite of rhythms,
You make this life plenty,
And my heart at ease

Mr. Gooding tells me about the past,
Back before the levees gave way,
and the water swallowed his city,
Mr. Gooding says she was a proud place,
One full of passion and sound,
He says New Orleans had a life of its own,
Everyone there just loved to hear it sing,
I tell him that Baltimore sings too,
Sometimes out of tune,
But still she sings,
And we came here to listen

I do not think much of the desert,
How mountains shift and shake every night,
The way the dunes roll mighty,
How they whisper away with the winds,
I do not think much of the desert,
I've read stories of a forgotten oasis,
Nestled somewhere in the shifting sands,
Like an ocean, only smaller,
I am shrinking too,
Here there is a desert,
One too big for my arms to hold,
Because here I grow smaller every night,
And my bones shift and shake with every breath

The only thing I'm afraid of
is forgetting about this

Sunday* had soul
Jazz flew out from the windows
The sidewalks eyed each other
From across the dance floor,
Monday felt heavy
All the violins awoke from their slumber
The leaves jumped off the branches
And let the wind take away their wishes
Tuesday bloomed
Daisies reached from between the cracks
Gardens broke free of the fences
The birds whispered songs to the petals
Wednesday brought God
Nestled between pressed together palms
Looking to the sky for answers
The black of the night held so much silence

When you speak aloud,
Fire your words as nameless bullets.
Without a face or destination,
simply burning through the air
in search of a target

On the night before spring,
All the windows were open,
Curtains billowed with february
waiting for the sound of morning
to trap itself inside

When the soil was ready,
we ran across the lawn
searching for salamanders
to catch with cages of fingers,
Gawking at the zoo in our palms
hoping that we too could bathe
in the moonlight and sleep on the stars

All those who fought with silence,
Used their words instead of violence,
Tattooed scriptures upon their thighs
Battled the lows with ballpoint highs,
Burn away the fracture pieces,
Iron on the tainted creases,
This purging was our way of survival,
Poet's own parables a secondhand bible,
This was love, this was hate, this was rage,
This was anything we could confess in midnight haze,
Dream out loud all you silent eyed fiends,
For this was nothing but the fuel of the machine

The driveway curved and bent,
A stream of black asphalt
made its way toward the doorstep,
Sundays were always the warmest,
chalk marked the pavement
The neighbors conversed from windows
about the new girl down the road,
Cages for backyards
held the gardens for ransom,
Explosions in the sky
colored the black of the night
Just like the chalk on the pavement

Cut me open
Only to find salt water
Drank an ocean
Swallowed the seas
Stole from it’s depths
These washed away dreams

Of all the things to remember,
Put my name somewhere on a list,
Place me next to the smallest of dreams,
Burn the pages, they are only words,

Of all the things to forget,
Start your engine and push the throttle,
Racing down the boulevard,
Too fast for anyone to love you the same,
I heard you don't even see the red nowadays,

Of all the things to cry for,
Push your pencils into my chest,
Neither of us can undo the past,
It unfurled onto our sofa cushions,
and rested it's heaviest of hearts

Of all the things to smile for,
Raise your glass,
Whiskey flavored livers,
Sang songs till the moon howled back,
Thank you for this

Place upon my shoulders
your two bare hands,
Bless me like my father once did,
Read to me all the stories from
your umbrella mystery books,
Fly your kites back to my heart,
Butterfly strings and locust mornings,
Neck plucked of its feathers,
Rolling those crystal notes
out from the belly,
Teach me the noose knot,
I wish to rid of the past,
He told me to forget the skeletons,
They are only bones now

She smiled like a fist fight,
Lips curled into an apology,
Sipping on that darkened bottle,
Wishing for the winter,
Fishing for the rain
and spitting away the sun,
Planting all the daffodils
with the sharpest of knives,
She is an island,
Lost at sea,
unaware of the times,
Smiling like a fist fight,
and a garden of knives

On the porch,
Our star hung high above us,
The flowers bloomed,
Trees wiped away sleep from their branches
I remembered the frost on my bones,
Floating candles of fireflies,
Laughter in the breeze,
And the rain dripping from the shingles

I write about love,
I write about my mother,
I write about the early years,
The flowers and the valentines,
I write about your smile,
Pretend it is something heaven sent,
That your skin held all my secrets,
and that we asked for nothing in return,
I write if nothing to be honest,
For my pen holds every truth I know,
Remember this when you choose to forget,
For I do not know how

These words will never cease,
Repetition of the syllables,
Over and over and over again,
They flood the notebooks,
bleeding their way from my pen,
Singing their notes in between breaths,
Their taste as they roll off the tongue,
All of the confessions, These sensational sins,
Oh how they broke me,
These words of mine

In this port,
     Our hearts
         have hurried
                 on home,
dancing atop
        the tides,
          My heart flutters
                   with the sails,
Hoping that one
         day your heart
            hurries on back to me

What makes you?
Write a poem on what makes up yourself or a person you are interested in. The "recipe" of this person can be structured however you want, be creative! Title the poem "Recipe" and use #recipechallenge when you are done! If you want your poem to be read message konr or The Creep that Loves You and we will be sure to read! Have fun and enjoy! :)

We will plummet
Destined to our fall,
Soaring out the window panes,
Pouring buckets of ourselves,
Whoever lies below,
Stares and wonders,
What has happened up there?
Climb the stairwell,
Gawk at the interior,
This is nothing but sad violins,
And cracks in the walls

What’s in a man?
This engine of a heart,
Works in machine like rhythm,
Monochrome innards,
Stashing my colors far too deep,
Someday I wish to see them,
Let their tones creep into place,
What’s in a man?
The longing for someone,
Silence worn as an outfit,
Attempts at concrete and structure,
At times we will shift,
Loosing sight of the times,
Apologies there after,
What’s in a man?
A title I am still trying to fit into.

The Lines drawn,
Your heart claimed Eden,
I dare not intrude,
Fears of the serpents held,
But Forbidden fruit
never looked sweeter

The white linoleum,
Floods this endless maze,
Similar souls in different bodies,
I am simply passing through,
Another cog in the machine,
Eyes pointed up at ceiling,
Watching boxes of light fly by
as if they were windows of sun,
Unfamiliar voices pump positivity,
Promises of my well being,
My head rolls right,
Sight fixed on the dark haired nurse,
Her smile stretches wide,
Unsure where to place it,
She reaches for my arm,
A chill enters my veins,
My body turns to gold,
I drift away,
The sun spotted ceiling fades to black,
You forget how much you love it,
Maybe the pain was worth it,
Anything for her sweet taste again

I've grown tired of love poems,
They are all dried up ink,
Forgotten valentines,
Stale ideas to think,
Upon receiving your letter,
I remembered the weather,
Care package bouquets,
and I hope you get betters,

You had a mouth full of bullets
and all your sentences rang out like gunplay,
How many times do I have to wear
Kevlar to our conversations?
-
A machine gun smile,
Ten trigger fingers waiting to fire on,
I was the fool standing arms out wide waiting for an answer
Bullets in my chest made my insides bleed red,
Hidden behind battlefield lips,
How could I not see this coming they said,
-
help patch all the holes left in me,
all the hollow places inside left behind,
Refugee bones searching for shelter,
-
You were the shooter and I the target,
Clip emptied, and we both got hit,
I am just not afraid to show
the parts of me that are bleeding

One time I lost my way,
Two times I accepted your apologies
Tree times I threw away too much of myself,
Four times I forgot the name I once carried,
Five times I loved far too well,
Six times I wrote poems for forgiveness,
Seven times I produced false promises,
Eight times I shared nights with empty bodies,
Nine times I gave away everything,
Ten times I let myself remember

My father loves his whiskey,
He tells me it reminds him of his home,
Nights in Dublin and Irish winters,
He danced with my mother under the moon,
Across the rivers and between the cracks,
Father do you drink to remember?
She still loves you all the same,
Oceans divided and still she remembers the barley,
All of the bar fights, and the serenades that sprouted,
Father do not be afraid,
For she still holds your heart

There are times,
Where I want to sing,
Your name and mine,
Tangled in the same tune,
Dancing with the syllables,
All the notes and nothings,
Around and around,
Into the evening hours,
There are times,
Where I have cried,
Familiar faces on morning news,
Funerals for the friends lost,
Childhood ends far too early,
So many nights forgotten,
Sunday morning service,
Prayers for the wrongs I committed,
In the hours prior,
There are times*,
Where I reflected on the memories,
August took a piece of me,
Everything was full of life,
We never even wondered,
About what would become of us,
In the sunrise that followed.