Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2013 Clarisa
Terry Collett
Christina sat
on you lap
you sat
on the low brick wall

around the playground
leaning against
the wire fence
the summer sun

warming your head
as she sat
her grey skirt
drifted up

revealing thighs
over on the playing field
Goldfinch kicked the football
but missed the goal

(two coats put down
wide spaces apart)
and pushed his hands
in the air

with frustration
she leaned in close
kissed your cheek
her hair blocking

the view of field
her hands inside
your jacket
your one hand

about her waist
the other resting
on her skirt
covered thigh

there’s no where private
for us to be
she said
no nook or cranny

to be alone
her small ******* pressed
against your chest
her warm breath

invading your ear
I’ve heard some
go into the woods
over the way

you said
no good
she replied
prefects go there

too often
to be much use
she loosened her tie
and unbuttoned

her blouse
shifting on your lap
she set herself
more comfortable

the grey skirt
riding higher
showing more thigh
she pulled the skirt

down to her knees
as a prefect went by
catching her eye
you should be

on the playing field
not here
like that together
the prefect said

looming overhead
Christina got off
your lap
and brushed down

her grey skirt
with small hands
you stood up
giving the prefect

a small smile
and wandered off
toward where
Goldfinch played

with ball
with boys
you saw Christina
saunter away

her hips swaying
her hand
giving a wave
then she was gone

amongst the other girls
who stood and stared
at boys at play
her small wet lips

imprinted
on your cheek
the kiss would be
unwashed away

you blew
from open palm
a secret kiss
to touch her

as she watched
the young boys play.
 Apr 2013 Clarisa
Matsuo Bashō
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
I was working the suicide hotline
that Friday night her call came in.
She sounded hyped up, frantic,
toying with the ultimate sin.

Her boyfriend had just left her
and she had no cash for the rent.
In the background a baby was crying,
The last of her patience long spent.

She rambled about her existence
as I passed a note to an aide.
When she told me how much she had taken
It was the first time in years that I prayed.

Blue angels with sirens were coming
for the girl with the tracks on her arms.
She increasingly grew incoherent,
Then, silence, I knew she was gone.

That weekend, I read in the paper
How an “Accident” claimed her young life.
A pretty brunette, about twenty,
all done with life’s struggle and strife.


That Tuesday, I stood in the distance
as the hearse brought that girl to her grave.
I wept then, overcome with sorrow,
for the young life that I failed to save.
.
 Apr 2013 Clarisa
Megan Grace
I'll never forget the way he smelled at the
park that first day in his flannel shirt
with the water dripping from his
hair. While he pushed me on
the swings, a cigarette in his
lips and the rain falling off
of him and onto my face,
he tip
          top
                tapered
across my rib cage
and into my veins.
His fingers felt like
they did the same
most quiet nights.
 Apr 2013 Clarisa
hello
12:00 pm
Midnight is when the breeze flows
Through my slightly cracked window
And ruffles my curtains
12:30 pm
I want to sleep but you keep crawling
Back into my brain
Dusting off abandoned corners of my memories
I never wanted to touch those again
The cobwebs frightened me
1:00 pm
Now I'm crying
It's a low wail
The time on my clock shows
All the thoughts I am wasting
On you
5:00 am
It's been a few hours
I think I've cried out all my tears
My body goes limp into an
Unstatisfiyng sleep
I know that when I wake up
You will not be next to me
Like how you always used to be
11:00 am
I've slept and I was right
You are not here
The puddles on my pillow collect
Into my hair
You haven't kissed me gently to
Wake me up
You haven't stroked my hair to the side
To peck my cheek and say
"Good morning"
7:00 pm
I have spent the day
Mourning over you
I wonder what you are doing
I wonder where you have gone
12:00 pm
Midnight is when I repeat the cycle
Of missing you.
 Apr 2013 Clarisa
Trevor Gates
VII.


Welcome to tonight's program

We have a fabulous show for you.

I'm sure you'll all find it enjoyable

You might even find it

Amusing

Sad

Pretentious

Obnoxious

Daring

Moving

Captiva­ting

Disgusting

Beautiful

Miraculous

Upsetting

Discomforting­

Disgraceful

Delicious

Seductive

Frightening

Disturbing

It could be all of these and maybe none at all
But what is it when you examine each emotion listed above?

Take each word and run it through your head

Imagine everything in your life that is associated with each particular word

The events in your life that were frightening
That were beautiful
That were delicious
That were seductive

And what emotions were felt behind the events of each memory?

Ah yes what were the stories you personally saw unfold?

The times well spent

The days you regret

The nights you couldn't forget

The people you forsaken

The lives you ruined

The love that was lost

The identity that was regained

Has your life turned out to be what you thought it would be?

Are you proud? Content? Disappointed?

Think of that one thing you could do again.

Have it clear in your mind

Now forget it

There is no point trying to imagine what could have been when you can change what will be.

   There is a life ahead of you.
Whether your 18 or 48

There is still life ahead of you.

Quit trying to mend the past.  The past is all in memory, pictures and writing.
The past isn't there waiting for you.  The only thing that opens its hands to you is the future.

A future where you fall in love
A future where you travel to where you've always wanted to go
A future where the human imagination lets you float above worlds and compose impossible music.

Be the artist that paints a beautiful picture
Be the composer that conducts a glorious symphony
Be the writer that creates a literary masterpiece
Be the one human that understands life be accepting the fruits of imaginative longevity.
Flourish in the bath of simple joys
Walk through the park and appreciate the wonderment
The wonderment of how a bird is so content with just being a bird
Why can't we be content with just being ourselves?
Is there some other choice?
Is there some other version of us somewhere? The true self?
The true self is there.

Right there

In front of you

In the mirror

In the pool of water

In the significant other

In the sky

In the oil pastels

In the five stanza poem

In you.

With you

Around you

Forever

Before and after

Once you're here and once you're gone.

The breath of life.  


  
Thank you all.
Please everyone take a bow.  Rejoice!
We'd like to thank:  Christian Bale, Tommy Tutone, The Cure, Lipton Tea, Museum curators, Mark Millar, Arthur C. Clarke, Keith David, Slowdive, Gregg Araki, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Elizabeth Taylor, Scott Pilgrim, Leather trench coats, Irish tweed hats, Technicolor dream coats, Mufasa, Rebekah Del Rio, Bruce Lee, Terrance Malik, Penelope Cruz, Selma Blair, Chopin, Orbit gum, Vlad the Impaler, five layer burritos and finally Howard shore for making this all possible.

Goodnight and God bless!
Next page