Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2014 Julia
Marco Avre
First, your face
decked
by jewels
and half lifetimes

Broken vessels
fill your dazed
neck

Your eye and lash
come from this mountain
of granite,
smoke and cancer

from the soil, you cut them
as a fragrant lemon

You let yourself fall
the dust of your feet
empties you,
measures you,
overcomes you
dust by dust
blow by blow
finely
on the snow
of Berlin.

Then, a nest,
of fork
and knife
gives birth to
snakes
and stairs

turquoise step
on which you sing
and pray.

Finally, abysses,
acids, earthquakes,
only existent
in indian dreams

cloak of thirsty
and yellow threads

You let it fall
You go away
to let yourself know
you are exiled
from every country,
from your sands,
from your nation,
from your glass
from your ashes of Paris.
 May 2014 Julia
SG Holter
Cynical
 May 2014 Julia
SG Holter
I'm not cold.
I've learned; you'll
Live. It's just pain.
Let it hurt
Itself out.
 May 2014 Julia
r
When words fail
 May 2014 Julia
r
What do you say to a child in pain
when nothing can ease the burn,
          the hole,
the enveloping wave
          of darkness?

Words are not a chain
to fastly anchor
          one's soul,
to cling, to save,
          to harness.

Time is the only healing rain
to calm the churn,
          make whole,
to fill the vase,
          drown the sharpness.

And love. Mountains and oceans of love.
This is all I have to give.
My words are not enough.

5/15/14
Maria,
Nothing I can say will ease your pain. You are loved.
 May 2014 Julia
Amanda In Scarlet
The perfection of a moment
Is limited by the fact that one day,
You will remember it wistfully,
And you know you will.
I am not sure that I actually believe this. I actually hope I don't.
 May 2014 Julia
Amanda In Scarlet
Your hands are gentle
As they take me, create me,
Making love, and art.
 May 2014 Julia
Terry Collett
Chana had a bike
and I had a scooter
she moaned a lot

and I did not
she wore clothes
her mother said

she had to wear
I wore
what was left to wear

from the day before
she loved sweets
and ice lollies

I loved licorice sticks
and sarsaparilla
she  hated vegetables

and meat pies
I hated liver
and fish with eyes

she said
why don't you
go play elsewhere

and leave
my brother to me?
go ask your brother

I said
and then we'll see
he said not her but me

so Chana went off
in a huff
riding her bike

like a bat
from Hell
Chana

was my best friend's
sister not
(thank God) my girl.
A BOY AND HIS BEST FRIEND'S SISTER IN 1950S LONDON.
Next page