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Darren White Apr 2017
He reached his fingers to the stars
willed his legs to dance
  forced his head so far back
   that in the bow of his body
    the bridge of his dance
     allowed particles of flaring sunlight
      little faeries of elation
       to traverse to the other side

      He saw his lean lithe body
     pirouette and position,
    ran screaming from one side to the next
   in a perpetual wish to catch
  that last step, that last grand
move, to capture small smiles
for infinity in his psyche

He said adieu to his last dance;
  farewell to the music
   only his ears could capture,
    goodbye to a world of ballet
     without him, his choreography
      no longer
       visible, but still resonating
        in this time and space where
         once he moved.
April 6, 2017
Copyright ©Darren White
Darren White Apr 2017
I love you, but they say I can't
For I'll extinguish you
But that I will defy
That fiery independence
You bow before me and hide
How can I **** the one I love?

You hate, you say, and run
From me, I will pursue
Will stalk your every trunk
and twig, your every shoot
and limb. What you devour
I soothe, I cry on your anger

My tears will drown your ire
Until you give yourself to me
My arms and body douse
your rage. You will surrender
We both will leave fertile
soil behind, offspring will grow
This is a personification... What exactly am I?
Darren White Apr 2017
Who tries to grow out of this cold
Unfolding wings from nothing
Nurtured with meager protection
Nourished with watery milk
Whose fingers try to burrow
the dry clay, the impenetrable rock
Who wants to excavate what turned
to stone?

In preservation conservation hides
In self protection arms as withered
branches wrap around what turned
to stone, knowing that deep inside
one little ember glows, still glows
There one small drop of water
remains, once a pool in polished
rounded slab of stone, rubble
remaining consciousness

This is what grows, this is one
seed of hope, one tiny root, one
drop of water, one ember of
warmth, one knowing once
belonged to a field of glacier
While only cold remains in
once warm heart that blindly
searches, searches.

*

March 25, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Inspired by this quote:
"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony *******?"
- T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land.
Darren White Apr 2017
There where clouds meet road,
Where they kiss their impossible love.
That exact spot where rainbows
Embrace grass, where stars swim,
And sun drowns?

There we shall meet, we will jump,
We will kiss, we will feel our arms
Holding each other.
And we will be happy.

— The End —