Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Keith J Collard Aug 2012
Colonial mansion, in an ocean of grass,
windows aglow as I walk past.
funeral service now used of verandah,
but I hear music, not mournful stanza.
french doors open to a reminisce,
with boyhood heart, of vitreous.

Footfalls on parquet floors,
tux and gown past crown moulded doors.
captured ambiance of a setting sun,
shown from chandeliers highly hung,
day I was born, born the day of prom,
I smiled cordially, and my date fawned.

Girls betrothed by corsage on wrist,
rare french curls--a lunar eclipse.
bedraggled boys now dapper and genteel,
vest and bow-tie, a knightly feel.
chapperesses smiling at maidenly gait,
happy drowse in  mansion estate.

Cuff-links, silk gloves, nail polish of gloss,
beheld tonics and sweets, carefully aloft.
opening cord, an arrow from cupid's bow,
striking coquettes to their tippy toes.
they sprang to dance,I stepped back,
invisible in shadow with tux of black.

Shoulders, lake ripples easing to shore,
hips, gentle waves, right before they pour.
boys stiff, as if waists beheld sabers,
legs, sweeping brooms of on shore waiters.
"your too handsome to stay here unseen,"
said rivaling chaperess, past semblance of queen.

"You should dance ,"said glittered lips of pink,
bent like sparrow wings, during teacup drink.
privy to why in shadow I hid my blush,
her class my crush, that crushed me so much.

She strained me, even the shadows she gave,
black silk, stretching,--convex and concave.
crude metal and wood classroom seat,
clasped her waist of slender physique.
she was guarded by a window in curtain mail,
and tended to by servants of light and gale.
light loved her skin of Mediterranean sand,
and wind enthralled by each and every brown strand.

Light penetrated strands, blondly hot,
wind would blow, cooling pony tail off.
her shadow curtsied under my desk,
long legs danced in irritableness.
mourning class is abuzz with scent of prom,
flower not frost, rules the school's dawn.

I gave my consent, to an earlier invite,
then on, suitor blinded me with light.
and Great Gatsy, and looming prom night,
subjects of sparrow wings pressed tight.
" show of hands, who do not have a date?"
slender wrist arises, from an arm curvate.

alone, she shown that no one asked her,
this stone of Rome amongst boys of plaster.
hand fell with boy of teachers match,
wind shrouded her,from the window sash
rays gave discomfort,to gaze her way,
but I looked through burning ray--

To see a trace of a tear,in eyes ovate,
a goddess unsought, with sadful face.
I, poor, fatherless, could not possibly go,
to prom with princess of arched portico?
I could not interweave my hands to dance,
or know where I could place my glance.

Wind blew a scrap from her desk, indiscreet,
it was pierced by light at my feet.
"will" and "with" were dotted with a heart,
"prom" and "me" before most painful part.
my name in her beautiful free hand,
the color red from hearts inkstand.

(Class bell rings) I travel over star lit lawn,
the music gets louder as I return to prom,
eyes turn to cotton, in shadow as I ponder,
as pain was forgotten, I came upon her.
invisible hands, lifted my chin to a red shape,
our eyes met, her's smiling, mine agape.

Only a glass-maker could imagine my sight,
seeing hot curves form in dance floor light.
only a wax-wing could have rivaled her eyes,
waves gently broke to gown down her thighs.
"will you dance with me,"she softly entreated,
" I don't know how,"a coward repeated.

A princess which tournaments were held,
for which every timber of mansion were felled.
not for Rome the mansion's Corinthian column--
--for her--from quarry prom did befall them.
I could not tarnish this feminine form,
with my lineage in crown she adorned.

I turned from beauty, to dark acres tread,
under willow, I play the last thing she said--
my name--as I shunned from last chance,
now back under willow, cane marks my stance.
I have preserved her forever, shying fate,
even if it was with my own heart-break.

I still see her--in the most beautiful prom poses--
--still--as lights flicker out and a coffin closes.
Keith J Collard Aug 2012
I stroll through forest, still in slumber
branches sway, as I lumber.
curtain of weeping pavillion,
infinite stars down to million.
I sit in prop root of willow's gurney,
childhood start, I end journey.
back brings hand of icy chill,
head brings hand of fever still.
skin weeps; icy branch to break,
wind's music through willow lace.
finally cared for, and feeling slumbrous,
bedding down forever, in willow umbrage.
Keith J Collard Aug 2012
I tremble from its wake,
but a petty raft,
looking upward,
as the living trireme,
rows into  Earth's blue lake.
Keith J Collard Jul 2012
Amanda, what are you staring at?
arms up, eyes part closed,
as if to say "wait,
"I lost my phone."

You alright Pandah?,
on your knees, eyes half shut,
staring at the wall,
" Im a'right," all mumbled up.

Approaching sirens.
" Pandah my Pandah"
no narcane kit,
she lay dying.

Amanda, what are you staring at?
Prom?
Dad and Mom?
Nothing,
Gone.
Keith J Collard Jul 2012
I have seen what nurses' eyes incurr
drained of tears, from war's allure
soothing boys with recitals,
of sweet words to dying vitals
I have seen bright red floods,
stopped by nurses scrubs
stopping blood, so hearts don't fail,
using a tourniquet of pony-tail
I have heard parents, shriek of pain
from an empty bed where kids had lain
when all had run, and with no console
A nurse stepped forward, in mother's role

"To see my 'soldier boy', here in uniform ball,"
a dying grandma's request, in a hospital,
when I could not come, and heart is to burst,
a last hug and embrace comes from a nurse.
For Priscilla
Keith J Collard Jul 2012
In flight, cloud pours winged ink,
feathered in atmospheric caption,
in and out, as a cursor blinks,
gliding portal-- ground casting.

a falling feather stroking air,
day's mind--now nigrescence,
torch waving in drip drop lair,
corvid "kaaw"--all sides pressing.

blackness: it is infinite cursive,
folded 'round a writer's eyes.
A hearse' undulating curtain,
the wings-- as the crow flies.
*
sound of the internal chasm,
shamen of post-mortem height,
feathered pen will spasm,
with morsel--writhing in and out of light.
Keith J Collard Jul 2012
I see you dangling from the Christmas tree/
blowing minty kisses to me/
my eye is caught by your red and white/
twisting in bower of forever-green height/
let me express my love to thee/
by singing you some lovely karokee/
please take my bow, and hook my finger/
I am better dancer than I singer
oh the snow drift must have made your skin/
with a sunset blush of red crimson.
I shall draw us in the windows fog/
and reveal that heart in breath of nog/
and even tho other candy might get jeolous/
we will still hug and kiss and let no one tell us/
that our love will be of short duration/
because man and candycane is only a tasting/
our love will always last I implore/
like your minty taste and striped contour/
oh how cute you look in my palm/
jiving to these christmas psalms/
oh but now you look so pallid/
you look all white like iceberg salad/
the sunset has left your cheeks,
snowblind, my eyes that could not see.
oh the pain my heart revealed/
that I should have kept your plastic sealed/
the kisses and licks that I have gave/
are sending you to an early grave/
oh my heart breaks seeing you so brittle/
my darling love is the size of a skittle/
so with one last kiss we will depart /
oh sweet candy cane you have broke my heart.
Next page