r - Hello Poetry

r Jan 2016

I miss the holy ghost of her smile.
The silhouette of her head in the night
on my pillow. Her beauty alight.

She was rain on my fever. Rain
through my window. An innuendo
of heavenly morning light. Heart heavy
as the moon on its way to Montana
wearing my blue bandana.

r Nov 2015

Honey

The last time we kissed
I broke out in hives
from the honey on her breath
and the sting of her lies.
I swear, I'd die a thousand deaths
if she were the queen of my hive.

r Nov 2015

#jesuisparisian

I feel like a foreigner
standing on a pier
waiting for word from a lover
across the blue water of tears.

A sad day. We stand with France.

#jesuisparisian

r Nov 2015

Dark pools

I like her black dress,
the way it pools at her feet.
How she walks to the bed,
spilling over my sheets.
I drown in the depth
of her eyes.

r Nov 2015

Dead leaves

Dead leaves, a dying tree;
silent in a tattered hat,
pausing in his quiet task,
reading poems of T.E. Hulme.

T.E. Hulme (1883 - 1917) heavily influenced Imagist poetry and modernism in the early twentieth century. One of the zeitgeist, only six of his poems were published during his short life. Killed in battle near Flanders in 1917, he is buried in the Koksijde Military Cemetery, Belgium.

His headstone carries the inscription: “One of the War Poets”.

#imagist

r Nov 2015

Impossibly aerodynamic

A professor explained to me once
how there is a limited number
of possible designs for making
an arrow point function as intended.

You can't stick a round rock on a stick
and expect it to penetrate like a dart.

It has to be sharp and hard, yet light
to fly like a feather straight and true
to the heart. I said, you mean like love?

She said, yeah, like love, kinda like love.