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 Nov 2015 Steele
xx
I Am Your Poet
 Nov 2015 Steele
xx
I am your poet --
I write your name on my heart
and our memories on my pages.

I write about my doubts,
my maybe's, what if's
and whereabouts
of you; and only you.

I write about my mistakes and yours --
our past, present, supposed future;
and how I love you the most.

I write about our debates --
the shouting and crying like
a wildfire sprawled across the bed.

I write about our first date --
when we dress up so nicely
and danced all night.

I write about our first kiss --
the push and pull of our lips;
and the warmth of our breathing.

I write about the way we talk --
the sweetest and most painful sound
uttered against the wind by the heart.

I write about your heartbeat --
the way it speaks to me,
and how it says my name joyfully.

I write about your face, your body,
the sound, noise, and joy;
and how we make love endlessly.

I am your poet --
I write about our unending love
that ends on my pages.
 Nov 2015 Steele
WickedHope
Eyesores
 Nov 2015 Steele
WickedHope
I'm just thinking of the man with his flawless rhymes and carefully calculated poems
And of the most poetic boy I've ever known
Wondering why I associated both of them with the color green

      ~       ~       ~

Green eyes
I've always wanted green eyes
Green is money
Green is growth
Green is spring
Green is life
But I've seen too much death
I've touched too much death
I've caused too much death
I've loved death
I've chased it, begged it, taunted it
Death is around me
I suppose that explains the blackness of my eyes

But your eyes
Oh the eyes that take away the pain
Those warm comforting eyes
That belong to a man I love so much it kills me every time I have to say goodbye
The man who I so desperately want to share everything with
The man who protects me
Who saves me
Saves me from the lies I tell without even speaking
My best friend that I can never keep
He is only on loan for brief moments
The moments I truly need him
The man who gave me love
The man who made me greater than myself

But your eyes
The hypnotizingly icy eyes of the boy I wanted to desire
I desired more than I was allowed
More than he allowed
More than they allowed
More than I could have
I lied lies he didn't believe
I guess that proves it
He was always smarter than me
A boy with eyes that could ****
Held his kindness close to his heart
He showed it to me in fleeting shadows and whispers
The boy who let me take a breath, though perhaps I held it in for too long
If this is about you, message me. Please.
- - -
Sort of a stream of consciousness... kinda.
Sorry this is ****.
Too-simple eludes as
too-complex disturbs
the instinct to grasp,
clutching at emptiness
in trembling fear

    Hope says, "there is
    always Hope,"

        A lure to elongate
        the reach, further
        overbalancing.

              Hope the crafty wolf
              stalks a deer in the glade.


Hope for what?
Acquire what?
Purchase what?
Become what --

           that could fulfill the yearning
           of the bough for the root?
           ...that could elucidate its relentless
           aspiration skyward?
           Oh, but if -- !

                   freeze at the snap of a twig

All aflutter at the
promise of sweet water
against seeking lips
     hungry fools chase
             Hope for a taste

          Into devil wilderness
       exposure threatening
   surviving by the teeth.
   Reduced to mating behavior,
         territoriality, predation --
              all else forgotten.

              the measured twitch and
                 watchful eye fail to outwit
                     the cunning wolf in wait


Nowhere we bring ourselves
is safe.
What compels you?
 Nov 2015 Steele
Thomas Oak
Patience
 Nov 2015 Steele
Thomas Oak
Spring is sweet,
but I wait for her to love me
the summer way that I love her now.
 Nov 2015 Steele
Ananya Nagar
Father
 Nov 2015 Steele
Ananya Nagar
I didn’t cry when you left
Neither did I say anything to anyone
I just kept quiet for a few days

But, I've observed everything
And suffered even more

That blue shirt,
Which you often used to wear
Is ironed and arranged
in the wooden closet

Your specs are still kept
on the television..
And the umbrella ..
waiting for the rainy season..

In The last rains
We were soaked and drenched
I did not touch your umbrella ..
I know,
That you do not like
If  your things are misplaced

I’ve told the cobbler
To mend your old shoe
Your watch is repaired
With a battery brand new

Taylor has stitched your pants
With a lining inside
And
Your bed is done
And mom waiting by its side.

Dad ....
I know
You will be tired by the journey
But this time,
Please stand still
And Rest for some time
I will take off your shoes
And massage your legs
To make you de-stress
Whatever you’ll say
I'll do it all
Just stand still
And be there

You know what dad ...
The last time you left ..
You left us shocked...

Ananya
An English translation to the previous poem.
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