the amber drip of honey
crystalline memory
I eat
mouth watering
hungry for someone to undertake me
to seek between fern frond and yarrow
for my magic, spilled and spent
in the places I no longer fill
to return singing the song
I lost to wind and rain
a traveller's lips
tasting of honey
and promise

'Drift'

I wish I was a spirit.

I would be able to drift:
from place to place,
person to person,
event to event.

I'd be able to visit
anywhere and everywhere,
past, present, and future too.

Memorable and
forgettable alike.

I'd be able to witness
the creation and destruction
that humanity has
inflicted and gifted
its earthly palette.

I would be able to see
all the beautiful people,
and their beautiful smiles.

Every single one of them.

Everyone would be beautiful;
for I would not have an eye
through which to behold them.

I would be able to
absorb moments
without corrupting them
with my presence.

I'd be able to condense
everything and nothing
into a droplet.

I could drink forever.

You soak your sun-dried dreams in rose water
And bead them onto strings of premature promises
You once made to your naïve self,
Despite your love for dreaming
The summer moon’s quick departure
Leaves you stranded at train stations
And you make your way back through fields
Of distant memories
Looking for ways to fall asleep

The anxious mind carries memories in a basket
and drops a handful of them along the way.
I can't recall everything;
I find stray memories in jars and nostalgias.
But it has become my favorite thing to say:
"I remember."
And what a gift it is, to remember.

Skipping stones along spring river,
One, two, three — finally touching lone pavilion.
Beneath my feet lie petite sprinkle of flowers.
Clear willow branch brushing against my shoulder,
the clouds shriek, heaven downpour, earth sorrow,
man can no longer borrow.
Our wine-cup has long grown old,
promise has long been sold.
On my last breath,
I skip these stones, where our promise last postponed.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, inspiration: favorite book---Invisible Life In A Miserable Age version two :>


Henry
met her at the library
rasped the portrait in ancient poetry
booked her love in print of coffee calligraphy
vanished curses of September from the entire history
remembered eyes bared and fell at feet so complementary
one-eighty degrees the fine line supplementary
deviled angelic
marveled hurdled
seven freckles and stashed in memory
celebrates venus and mercury


                                                       ­                                     -----ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just an old a family memory on a dinner table--sorry no rhymes :>


to the no one who is not recognizing......
when I stopped for a long stare for me

I stopped and looked around me searching for something that
I don't know stashed deep into the picture I view

I smiled for the happiness that invades those hearts
for the gratitude that my soul is permeated
I crowned the thrones of blood in pure joy
I stole the sounds of laughter

I screened that shot that is bottled into the core of my memories that shot the reason I am on ground in this life
the reason that I believe in the reason that I hang on to the reason

that I long on my stormy nights and deprived alones
I locked them on that table of love and warm clouds attached
when I stopped for a long stare for me

                                                             ­                              ------ravenfeels