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bailey-bPoems
The waves slither over the rocks and wink cutting into the soles of our flesh whispering sweet nothings to the porcelain of skin Our feet are not used to treading without shoes and we’ll walk the waters stalk the waters like panthers to their prey carefully calculating where to strike next so our toes can skim the surface without dousing ourselves in doubt The velvet starlessly undulates like serpents overhead nipping playfully at our ankles hissing fog over the cross-stitching below Our toes giggle and ease on our slippers of cold and we’ll shift the waters, sift the waters of their impurities and artifice leaving the ingredients of ginger, sand, and freckles so we can remember the recipe for when we grow older A melody fits between the stones caterwauling over the wail of the winds humming through the salt and silt Our laughter clicks like puzzle pieces and we’ll see the waters, be the water’s song resounding in low octaves echoing inside the memories framed so our tongues will never forget what to sing to get out of trouble A beacon slices the shore with dancing lights twirling between the universe and words supping on the whip of the sea against rock Our eyes well with the tears of de Leon and we’ll feel the waters, steal the waters back to our hearths in tiny blue bottles watching them swirl around inside the glass so our fists can hold resolute to the green light unattainable
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Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
The Edge of Reality
The waves slither over the rocks and wink cutting into the soles of our flesh whispering sweet nothings to the porcelain of skin Our feet are not used to treading without shoes and we’ll walk the waters stalk the waters like panthers to their prey carefully calculating where to strike next so our toes can skim the surface without dousing ourselves in doubt The velvet starlessly undulates like serpents overhead nipping playfully at our ankles hissing fog over the cross-stitching below Our toes giggle and ease on our slippers of cold and we’ll shift the waters, sift the waters of their impurities and artifice leaving the ingredients of ginger, sand, and freckles so we can remember the recipe for when we grow older A melody fits between the stones caterwauling over the wail of the winds humming through the salt and silt Our laughter clicks like puzzle pieces and we’ll see the waters, be the water’s song resounding in low octaves echoing inside the memories framed so our tongues will never forget what to sing to get out of trouble A beacon slices the shore with dancing lights twirling between the universe and words supping on the whip of the sea against rock Our eyes well with the tears of de Leon and we’ll feel the waters, steal the waters back to our hearths in tiny blue bottles watching them swirl around inside the glass so our fists can hold resolute to the green light unattainable
Written by
bailey-b
American
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
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