here is a cup of fog
mix it well
with melancholy
spoon in a bit
of saccharine ---
indigestible sentiment ---
and blend it all
together

take this tablespoon of
creative fire
douse it with
unrelenting tears
repress it into a ball
then let it stand,
covered,
that the yeast of
sorrow may bloom

when doubled,
punch it down to
bloom again

punch
bloom
punch
bloom

work the dough of Life
to death
form it into a blob
put it into the cold fire of the ego’s
oven
leave it there to burn away
to nothing edible

serve it in hard chunks
on delicate china
and --- wait
trust that the teaspoon of
Love added at the last minute
will be enough


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

I am the quiet poet
I draw my silk from
            the writhing aurora borealis
                        in the frozen sky
            and twist its ethereal light into dripping ink
            still wet on the page
You think you know me?
            you don't know me.

I am the serene night sky
                        and the boiling hot stars
I am the tempestuous seas
                        and the playful shallow shores
I am the relentless scorching desert
            and the soft smooth tides of sand

I was a prodigy, a freak
            I came into this world
with a pen in my pudgy little fingers
and a notebook clutched to my chest
I watch
as diamond rings fall like rain
onto the fourth fingers of my peers
            imprisoning them
but my female ancestors slew dragons
            I am free
            I will always be free
                        no man can handle me anyway

I am a captivated student
            of the authors and poets before me
books are my haven, my lovers, my dreams, my life
I am not human
Arms open, eyes shut, head to the sky
            I am but a channel
for the flow of the universe.

thin, shaky pink finger
           points downward
solemnly accusing
            the vivid violet
            and brilliant tangerine ocean
                        boiling beneath
of the ****** ******
            of the sky

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

Poets don't see what people see
          I'll show you a treasure trove
                    of pearls twinkling with metallic luster
and all you'll be able to see
          is rain
I'll gasp and excitedly point
          to mysterious black calligraphy
                    carefully inked onto the purple and orange
                    bruised back of the horizon
and the harder you look
          the more you will only see
          a tree that has lost its leaves

Poets don't see what people see
          but that doesn't mean what we see
                    isn't there
With knives of love
          hate
                    joy
          anger
     ­               nostalgia and
          agony
we whittle away at ordinary things
          until our poetry emerges
dripping with color and glitter
                    a perfect replica
                    of the glowing soul within

I know you
I know your sadness
The gleaming blue
          of your eyes melts
          washes into a snowy gray
          soft flurries float down
          and freeze your pale cheeks
          tightening your smile

I know your joy
The light ripples of your laugh
          brighten the very stars
          echo tones of purple
          through my hollow soul
          make the giggling brooks
          glare with envy

With one touch
          I would thaw the frozen fractals
                    in your pained smile
With one breath
          I would smile with you
                    and live in the frequency
                    of your angelic laughter forever

But now cold autumn winds of doubt
          freeze my smile too
          wash my eyes out with snow
          lock up the sparkling sprites
                    of laughter inside me
          as I realize
I don't know you anymore

I used to know
          your joy
          your sadness
they are as much a part of me as
          my living beating heart
but are you different now?
If I rip your eyes from my mind
          your laugh from my ears

will my heart stop too?