My words are written in lines and I hide behind them, I hope you understand them as the way I loved you.
I love watching Spring bloom in the reflection of your eyes.
A white flower
wearing an eyeglass,
her eyelash rolled
Like calla lily,
her bright beautiful
sciera looks glassy
like, brown iris and
chocolate pupil rouned,
Brighten the Android
phone is softly touching,
when Funda closed the
shop door, she turn
her face to me
and she said
a beautiful flower
a good thing
when frosted coated with
Without them kisses,
it’s like kissing your parents
meaningful but not pleasurable
there is no escaping it.
to write of subtle,
one must be blunt,
write with no subtlety.
there is no way, impossible, to capture the fine single threads required
to weave a tapestry of bold and delicate intertwined, of depth and
surface, of a droplet of water shining outstanding in a sea of harsh
there is bold, there is pale. they can coexist, perhaps even
heighten each other.
but subtle is a delicacy, a single thread, a standard rarely achieved.
which is why this poem makes no pretense at subtlety.
Eyes a devil blue.
Drowning those who swim in your hue.
A captivating, gorgeous blue.
Distracted by the iris, the pupil a black hole- a virus- ******* the stars out of people.
Pulling them to the edge of your eye, you watch them from afar, as they try and survive.
her name caught a question in my throat:
its first utterance barely completed
and i felt her hate engulf my all.
i touch the scars upon her back, still
gold in the lightlessness of her doom,
longing for stripped rainbows - turned to mist.
she’ll forever resent my living
beside her living half. my love for
colors she herself once stood for too.
Down the hill a procession passed
Of many a merry and gay
Of every and one I ever knew
All white and combed with garlands
Of lily, dandelion, lavander, iris and thyme
Down the hill they passed in dance and music to meet the honey-scented goddess May
Above I floated, bodiless, unseen
Against the stream
My want was in stopping, observing the sight
In first line my friend laughed and chattered, as she held her sister and sweetly kissed her
She couldn't hear
But the stream pushed and pushed me
Till they were but salty tears
windows closed watch a mid-twenties hearth.
black petal water - a magic mug
steaming thoughts of real lives yet dormant.
indigo country sounds echo ‘round
a calm silent darkness – dream cabin.
far away, a booming planet sleeps.
the clear fire flickers, expecting
a promised rainbow soul - hers to it.
iris opens her eyes to the flames.