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Shannon Jan 2015
I want each step to land my foot
tangled heather
ash and soot.
And lead to where the wicked go...
where the darling schoolgirls know
when to turn with redden hue
gasping their  intact virtue.
Yet I long my footfall down-
mossy sinfully buoyant ground.
Run to meet him by the stone
kiss him on it's granite bones.
And he'll swing me wide with wonder
pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder.
I go where all the good girls shant.
all my christian vows recant.
Yes I will meet him by the river

and onward I keep
through the creeping myrtle, creep-
and the sinners sandbox
and painted ladies swings
(where I rest my chastity case)
that's covered in leather and ******* with lace.
as I watch good girls gasp-
as I swing wide hips, wide.
Thier ****** ******* clasps.
And that night will give birth
to a wretched new way
I am wanton
and crafty
unwelcome at tables-where ladies
and insist on "no more!"
need polite conversations
to endless relations.
I'll roar down that path
like a thundering herd,
like an air stream that carries the weariest bird.
I'm curved, I'm pillowed.
I'm chest out.
I'm willowed...
I'll have holes in my souls
all four of them dotted.
Or six of them spotted?
Like a cat's lives they'll feed
so that reaper, recedes.
It's this path, though, you see them?
The Glories
Twined up the tree trunk
and my heart is arrested.
I'm put in the mind of those
sinewy women
and sin
comes in scent
where that glory blooms nightly
and clasp hold of
these moments
of recklessness tightly.

Sahn 1/12/2015
this one is still forming but thanks for sharing my work. check out my blog if you like my work.
Shannon Jan 2015
now, now, there. He is
man of raging waters-
ease flees  his body
Like birds spooked by passing train.
Time and truths drag down his shoulders as
He walks his well-worn path to
Earn his well-worn dollar.
His arms limp to pick the tempest bottle
That fill his flaccid faith with the warmth of a hundred singing choirs.
Temper, now - hallelujah, hallelujah
He fills his cup - king of kings-
and pours it down the funnel of his spine,
And like the clown that blows up balloon animals
He blows up a lion
blows up a fighting ****-
He blows himself up into hope-into happy.
Temper man, mine,
I am branches of his trees
Snapping in the sudden gale
The storm that brews beneath his feet.
I am what he preserves -
what he destroys
Makes me like one of his castles
drip -drop
rise in the sand
I rise, towers blossom fragile
Queen of Drip-drop Land
- temper man watches it all wash away
I am sullen and silent and stirring
His madness alive
as he tangos with electrified demons on the beach where I puddle.
Oh how tiring it all is,
And he'll wake to drag his medal with him
As he walks the dusty road to clutch his dusty dollar
So he may do it all again.

Shan 01/05/15
Thank you for sharing any thoughts or suggestions.
Shannon Dec 2014
she is gone
like the waves are to the sand
she was there and
then she's not.
she is gone.
like a hand is to the shake
like the Eve is to the snake
like the sun is to the morn
she is gone.
She has gone.
like the path is to the lost.
like the trees are to the roots.
like the skin is to the snake
she is gone.
she is gone.
like the kiss is to the cheek.
like the strength is to the weak.
she is gone.
and still, and still he waits
like the river rock he shakes
but no movement will he make
she is gone.
he will bide his time like lakes
she will roll like tides
and take
what is hers and what he left
she is gone.
and still he waits
and still he waits.
and time will edge and clip
and she will
dodge and she will duck
she will shine and she will grab
still he waits.
still he waits.

thank you as always, could not be more thrilled you share in my work.
Shannon Dec 2014
it's so perfect.
so divine.
inside she finds
that safe place and
a marble is blue
like a gesture
is small
like yeast must rise-
like the cat's eye,
paw at you.
as the cat waits
with the sunbeam she plays.
the tea
and the teacup-
exquisitely she waits.
she waits.
empty she will.
instinctively she waits.
on her own bone china
pretty little fragile
on her own
she waits,
exquisitely she waits.

i am always grateful, say hello.
Shannon Nov 2014
A waiting doll
in your waiting corner
where you left me to love me later.
Your jointed, painted playmate
eyes wide and thrilled
where you left for solace someday.
I am timepiece.
mantel placed with Christmas lace?
I am mark the date
your ticking tock tock knock
three chime movement, seconds flat
chiseling out time to spend
Am i your singing cherub child?
Red faced ruddy,
trilling and wild
Am i your avec la voix des fleurs?
a note that waits here on all fours
patient to be heard
to sing in lazy ear someday?
waiting willing wanton woman
serving sarcasm
and delivering indifference
to the audience that's left behind
two cents to the dollar now
and the floors electric with the sales
of mighty stocks and mighty bales
and two cooper, two
is what i gave you.
for the love of a girl
in disgrace of her moral path
shall you advance her
or will she be placed below.
two pennys two.
between her and i.
avec la voix
la voix.

sahn shannon april alice 11/24/2014
sahn 11/24/2014
Shannon Nov 2014
come to me.
to the floor where i kneel
in front of you.
follow me- pay attention close
and bend.
your will.
your beliefs,
your promises.
your boundaries.
your comfort.
follow me with your stare as i slither back above the floor.
and crawl over
your expectations
your judgments
your rehearsed words
dripping like drool from a baby's lip.
delight, devine
as i slide off this good girl's skin
contain your
desire while i
take you up mountains in your mind, lover.
i raise you from the center of the sky.
while i  blind you with lust
'till you feel silken places inside-
so fragile they will tear
ill bring the goblet to your mouth sir-
with the richest ruby reds slither down your throat as if it were alive.
oh yes, we will climb,
feel the mount behind us holding us up... wind up so high must be stealing our breath
I will give you touch, lover.
the kind you never found in all your searches.
the kind the does the touching with it's shadow not it's skin
and the shadow dances to tickle in the most promising of places.
yes ill give you whispers up here-bounce them around
like a helium star
slowly whisper here, bouncing, slowly whisper there.
rake what used to be my fingers....
now though they are sticks from the forest bound together to
glide through your silky hair and leave their beautiful pine scent.
come to me, and share old magic
just a baby of the woods-
lay you on a bed of branches
cold leaves, borough in your naked skin...
bring to me now your empty pallet
and fill my sorrow with your fight.

******* believer in love against all odds.
Shannon Nov 2014
if i give to you a universe,
you said to me this morning-
what would you fill it with?
a blank universe,
you coaxed me this morning-
tell me what i'd see.
i said, unwillingly at first-
i would not take your universe
not your gift to give...not your stars.
i would not take your universe
if you gave it on
bended knee.
-but if i had a universe,
a blank universe i'd fill it
with ecstasy storms
and kissing maids romping
with bright hued braids twirling
and child's first prayer that electrifies grass blades
and butterscotch ice ponds
and fields of wildflowers
and books lining roadways and
words raining sideways-
trains running backwards and
time moving slowly
with music for dinner and
dancing for sadness
lovers and mothers
perhaps i said,
as i rolled close in the sheets
i'd just fill it with you and i-
and i would love you when the sun
did shine
and when the sun
did not.
and i would love you when you closed your eyes
and i would love you as you wept.
love you as you walked
toes tickling my ground and sand
and i would love you when you sneezed
and as you sang
        and as you aged.
and i would love you
my tiny universe to keep.

thank you as always for taking the time to read my work.
Shannon Nov 2014
I have climbed 300 steps
and sat beside the butchers pets.
I have etched in marble stone
and rose in blankets made of bones.
I have danced with withered ******
and laughed with sinning pirate bores
I have taken flights of mind
marched in armies of mankind.
I have burned the church yard down
danced on every hot red mound
and dug out wells with pails of red
and to the children gave ****** bread.
I watched the sea swell with delight
Gave hope to those with endless night
I grieve by every paupers grave
like lovers tears for the newly saved.
I have sold off squares of skies
to melt them off in poisoned pies.
I have squander endless gold
from rich men's purse that I've cajoled
And I will drink my whiskey straight
and make a list of what I hate.
I will jump off areoplanes
crashing through cathedral panes
And I will topple endless trees
upset the nest of surly bees.
And if you don't contain my spill
keep your promise in good will
For I am simply lost at sea
waiting that you come for me.
For I am simply biding time
waiting for that love of mine.*

sahn 9/9/2014
thanks so much for sharing in the piece.
Shannon Nov 2014
I saw a man who was buying time
with the last of his pennies in a threadbare coat.
He whispered to me on the train that we caught
that a love that will waste, is one caught in one's throat.

sahn 11/9/14
thanks as always for sharing my work with me.
Shannon Nov 2014
There is funeral going on,
hush for the death.
quiet for the mourning,
the dead demand respect.
There is a death and I grieve you
so pity on me and silence, I beg.
let me tell you how I mourn you
I yearn back our laughs in synchronized pops of noise
one tinkling
on bellowing with breathe.
I am rage, full of bitter
that I must grieve your hand
as I know that hand so well!
That hand held mine and so
It must be that it were mine so
I RAGE for the loss of my hand as well.
Quiet. Stillness
There is a procession
See? We were happy once
Perhaps it wasn't us that died. Perhaps is was contented's demise
and we are still an ember of life and I am at the wrong funeral
because we are still flickering a bit
...just a bit.
it's all you need to start a fire a spark of yellow will do.
I see red when I look and see your blue cornfield eyes
I see yellow in the fuzzy field of your hair.
Shh.. they are kneeling.
Something has passed on but it's not us? Right? This is not final walk?
There is hope... I showed it to you! Hope, we've just taken a wrong turn
you and I
This is not our funeral
My hand doesn't grieve.
My lips do whisper respect.
Shhh. This is a funeral. Respect for the death.

thank you for taking you time to stop by, please leave a hello below...i'd like that rather much.
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