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Leah Faye  Aug 2017
Halflight
Leah Faye Aug 2017
The descending sun,
A tranquil withdrawal -
An end,
Yet also a beginning...

A delicate watercolour on canvas of sky,
So lovingly crafted.

Soft dusk reveals tiny opals of constellations,
The moon smiles a spectral lustre.

Yet only almost-content...
Your absence leaves me hollow.
I have re-written this more times than I would like to admit
mark john junor Jun 2014
illusions soil damp with summer rain
we are silence creeping softly
in halflight carrying a farthings worth of sugar
for his bitter tea and stale buttery breads
our stealth footprints leaning to the shadows trail us
the thick scents of tilled earth
and the fresher faster scent of rain
turn to whisper your hush-now's and stifle the laughter
tis serious things afoot in the majestic night

seed lain with casual grunts
by the farmers son come of age
till foolish boy reckons what hes done
but storm riding in and no time to dawdle
bread in the basket and skittles in the cookfire
whats to be done whats to be done
he sweeps his mistakes aside and plows onward
like his pappy would have done

illusions soil fertile
and fools will take to heart any tale
so we have come sneakin' and creepin'
to harvesting our due
in halflight carrying a farthings worth of sugar
for his bitter teas and stale buttery breads
feed the fools mind with all manner of delusion
and while we sit and sup in the heavenly scented field
the thick scents of tilled earth
and the fresher faster scent of rain
he will be singing and dancing a madwoman's jig
under a lunatic moon
Mikaila  Aug 2013
Without You
Mikaila Aug 2013
Without you I often feel
Like a child who has lost her parents in a department store
And turns round and round
Waiting to be rediscovered and led back home.
It is a childlike feeling
In that it is so pure and intense
That it overwhelms everything else.
It's consuming,
This...lost, echoing sort of feeling,
This space inside me that calls
For you to be next to me and heal me.
It's the simple, gripping yearning
Of the child inside my heart
For connection
For tenderness
For contact-
To reach out and find purchase with my fingers
In the warmth of someone else's skin,
Someone I love,
Someone I trust.
Someone I miss,
Even when they are close.

Without you I often feel
Like a balloon that has been cut from its string
And left to wander through the stratosphere,
A lone black dot wavering above the treetops.
I have no control over where I am taken,
No way to reach out to where I've come from and say
"Wait, I want to go back."
I am adrift, in the most terrifying sense,
Emotionally floating through the emptiness of air,
Above all else but utterly alone.

I fear being away from you,
Is the truth,
Is the constant struggle.
I fear the mornings when your arms are not around my waist
And your breath isn't on my collarbone.
I fear the days when my hand isn't clasped in yours,
Tattooed in golden brown henna and entwined,
Fragile but steadying,
Like the rope that holds a ship fast and safe from the greedy fingers of the sea.
I fear the evenings when you aren't curled up beside me,
Your smooth voice telling me stories and ideas.
I fear the nights when I cannot look at your sleeping face
And feel the heartbreak cry out in my chest
Of loving every curve of it
In the halflight shadows
And seeing your skin glow gold
Against the velvet darkness.
I fear every second that you are not near me,
And that is why I feel so oddly lonely
In any tiny breath of a moment
That I am unoccupied.

Without you,
I'm not even entirely sure I exist.
Not properly,
Not like one should exist.
I think perhaps I pale a little,
Like a negative photograph,
Perhaps my edges become a little hazy
And the world bleeds into me and takes my light,
And my skin becomes a little transparent
So that if I stand before a streetlight in the rain
You can see the wet road through my back.
I think a little bit of my color drains,
And I become drab as a silverscreen movie,
Only projected upon the world and not
Really there.

No way of approaching how I feel without you
Can explain it fully,
And little flashes of what I mean dart across my vision like meteors.
I can try to equate it with something relatable,
Something tangible,
But the truth is that missing you transcends the words I've got to explain it.

I feel like a child, crying because she has realized what the word "alone" means.
I feel like a ship, cut adrift and floating through a mirror sky of sea
With no land in sight.
I feel like a worn out film reel
Ghost of an image hollographed against the world.
I feel like I've lost something
I couldn't live without.
My lungs, perhaps.
Maybe an artery,
Or the bones in my legs.
It feels wrong, to be without you.
And yet,
I am.
Without you,
I am...
Something.
But I'm not even sure I care to know
What.
mark john junor Dec 2013
the remnants of a broken down villain
he's waited here in thick silence
with his elaborate plans
drawn on the wall complete with corrections
stick figures in the halflight
crude illustrations of the vocally frustrated
small errors in life represented by
five burnished monkeys cast in bronze
lined up in order of smiles on his mirror wall
the surface of his words
are reflections of the rain
which never comes but stays
in the golden gilded cages of his mind
shes so sweet rides up on her mystery wheel
and starts to strip off the layers
but stops when  she reaches her freshly washed skin
and she dose a little dance just for him
shes been trying to get him off this
diesel gas fumes kick he's been on since vietnam
and the burnished brass monkeys break into song
something slow with a nice backbeat
something about the middle east
and the wires that join us all in prosperity
she sells *** in plain brown paper bags
on the street to support the tragic train
they say shes weak but we all know its just makeup
she wears and shes the strongest man alive
she isn't drawing grand designs to conquer the world
but its something shes well on  her way to doing anyway
with her backup band
five burnished brass monkeys
each one with a hand on a bible
swearing allegiance to the madness
found in stick figures carved with loving care into
the walls of a madman's eight inch mind
Jenny Gordon Oct 2016
...and I'll give you half an ear.  
[L9:  Robert.  And sent a pic when returned.  And yes, I loved him, shame to say.]



(sonnet #MMMMMCMXCI)


Where gloaming filters out in greyish thence
And fading halflight, children's voices trail
Some barking canine as no birds detail
Calm whispers whose soft breath tugs at me hence
Likeas to stay my footfalls with that sense
Tis now, and here.  Ne stars yet in blue's veil
Except the evening star alone oer pale
Dead houses, and how sunset burns low.  Whence?
Indeed.  He's gone to Burning Man as twere
Or some take off that, romance forfeit too,
Else I'll wish for a date with each in poor
Excuse, how's that?  The problem is...that you
Are not here.  What are cool winds' murmurs?  You're
Who gives dusk romance.  Tell me that you knew.

23Oct16c
Hi.  Mebbe I'll share my diary pages again when I feel reckless.  Like how some date proceeded or whathaveyou.  Don't hold your breath waiting.
mark john junor Aug 2013
the lens of perception
gives distorted answer to the postulated mind
so you crawl thru the muddy sunshine
to her cool bed
through the ink and sweat
of her armpit flavors
to her eye
and steal away her thoughts
and childhood twisted memories

perception beats me about the head with its difficult fists
its angry it always has been
it skitters along on broken insect legs
and speaks in a undefined whisper
it ransacks my pockets of hope
perception is a choice they tell me
i can change it anytime i like
but its stained face waits for me when i shut the light
its reproach waits for me in the uncertainty of her *******

in the halflight of morning
she lay sleeping and perception crawls slowly over her
leaving no part of her uncaressed by its warm hand cold eye
and in that slow torture of silent revere i begin to see her differently
i see the flaw in the logic chain that lead her to me
from the far distant mountains where we met
i see the flaw in the chain of events that lead my former
lover to follow a spike out the door
i see the lust chain follow the young and willing partner

as she spreads the flower of her dark treasure

i see these chains and wonder how they bind me
to what fate
to what doom
i cannot perceive

this demonic symphony rolls on ever onward
through the years
through the misery and madness
through the joy and laughter
through the miles and minuets
the lens of perception ever distorting ever tainted
by the cool soft touch of a womans hand
its driving me mad
David Noonan Feb 2017
Someone's taken a serrated blade to
the core of this night
It's moon, shrouded in a widows veil
forms the dimmest of halflight
As the stars all seem to weep its
passing where they fall
And I,
I don't want to sleep with you,
I just want to stay up and talk
As the sounds of the street resound then
fade through this tiny boxroom
The silence filled with comfort as the blue nile
soothe on late night radio

Our view, 
a city landscape towered by the now
idled dockland cranes
Do they dream to escape
to the endless deep blue
like you and I
Or do they cower in the darkness,
longing for morning and
a purpose once more
That dawn jolts as its light reflects
sharply to my eyes from
your stainless blade
But I wake alone, with you lost
to the thoughts and dreams that you are
As the cranes begin to clank
to a meaning they crave,
I cower alone and
accept my fate
Alaia  May 2011
Maria
Alaia May 2011
No memories, no plans, just empty days full of
headaches
Sour apples on the window sill, sour grapes with
no seeds
Bought in sterile supermarkets where everything is
half-price
Wilting in the halflight of ***** windows and
paintchips
Smile with me, Maria, the day is almost done,
We can dip our hands in the canal, wash it away
Carry me where you will, among the brambles and
reeds
Let me sleep in your arms, just hold me,
please
mark john junor May 2014
if she submits just so
if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
her breathing becomes quick
and her hands silhouettes
mimicry of ritualistic love

if she submits just so
the world will see
and snow will fall warm as summers day
quick will be slow
hurt will be healed
and the difficult will be easy
as easy as his smile back when he loved her
and things will be the way they were
before

her thin fingers
on the window panes frost
etch panoramas fine line drawings of loves triumphs
a garden where hope blooms
where beauty and happiness are one in the same
in the smile he shared with her back before
before...

washed and trimmed to measurable perfections
she kneels in the strange halflight of the worlds eye
and waits for the settling dust to speak
for the haze on the window to illustrate
for the clocks silent mechanical action to cease
waits for the world to change her

her breathing quick and measured as she leans with perceptions
to any sound of approaching footfall
but the only sound that pierced the thick darkness
was that of the worlds slow decay
if she could only
but hes been gone for so long
that smile
his sweet smile while he loved her

if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
if she submits just so
the world will see
shes a good girl
and snow will fall warm as summers day
it will be as it was before
before
he will come back
and snow will fall warm as summers day
mark john junor Apr 2014
she cradled the thought of me in the eyes of her heart
and constructed me from fragments
of what she had thought she knew
with deliberate care stitched the pieces
of her self deceptions to the fabric of reality's rags
a wedding cake of circumstance and make believe
that was the union of her fears and madness

she crept up to my window paine
and carved into the stain of frost on winters nights glass
the thought of the face of the bitter dogs
their lonely years hanging loose upon their bones
their fear have all withdrawn to gather in moonlight
the stillness of her own reflection
fails to bear fruits of reason
so she joins them to whisper at the falling sky

she lay in the halflight of evening
fully clothed under the sheets
writing in her mind symphony's of silence
embracing the gloom
while beads of desperation's labors burst upon her brow
her tight lips pressed to retain
but the words cannot help but but be spoken
please love me

in her hearts eye she cradles me in
the embrace of a lover
in her hearts mad mind it was meant to be
she has known it since secret writings came to light
never you mind they bore another woman's name
the just feel like they speak to her alone
in her hearts mad mind
she carves heart shaped love letters
in the stain of frost of winter nights glass
mark john junor May 2014
like a fool i rushed in
now i sit in the halflight and ponder
watch the crow carve a michelangelo in the sands of time
wishing it could have been me
keep washing away my days with tears
but its left me dry
like the desert between her heart and eyes
her practiced hand extracts me from the conversation
but i can still hear every word spoken
but i still cant decipher the smile on his face
i flee this woman and her complex locks for a heart
to wander into the rain  hoping the cure for her is rust

i sit here in a concrete flower bed
with life thriving inches from my thirsty heart
the sun is a hurricane blowin its light all over the worlds face
except this streetlight corner where i'm parked
in a shopping cart with a handful of handmade candles
and an ocean of tears for the nobody thats there by my side
a picture of some actress to fill the void
her pretend joys bring such dim return
but i still dream that i'm dancing in the sand
neath the fiery furnace of romances moon
english rose poised for her picture
with such sadness

i frustrated rushed forward across the beaten earth
to the edge of the stage hoping to get to see up
close and personal some man playing precision notes
on a beautiful wind
his song a sweet reprise of yesterdays loving heart
and all the shared smiles and hopeful joys
his dancing thought soars and swings like plastic on the wind
but fools like me caught in the imitation seats of oak can only watch with slack jawed wonders in our hearts
garcia where did you go my brother
you never said goodbye

there will be no easy solutions to my delemia
i must find someone who can hold the hand of a fleeing man
some sweet girl who wants do slow dance
in tonight's spring full moon like it was yesterdays dream
i like a fool fled the feast a hungry man in a dark land
wearing only a milk white robe
and carrying a plastic moon
ill wander till i find you
and sweetheart i hope its soon
i don't even know you yet and i miss you already
Felicia C Jul 2014
I smell like the zucchini bread that I spent all afternoon baking.
You smell like pine wood and soap.
She smells like lavender and lipstick,
He smells like rosemary and hope.

We all bike down the valley to get to the spring,
helmets on, eyes to the horizon,
the skyline, I swear, rose to meet us that day.

You and I get there first, we lay in the sun
by the river, dancing on the stones,
jumping off ledges in boots
til the wind chills our bones.

We warm up with blankets,
unpack our baskets
and settle in for the sunset over the river.

Illuminate the bridges,
halflight the buildings,
shine on the rivers,
the light stopped lilting.

Brilliant colors, then none at all.
It grew darker again and we said goodnight.
"Do you mind if we don’t go straight home?"

Not at all, not at all, not at all.
August 2013

— The End —