"acrophobic" poems
swimming under lightning,
lighting our submergence flash allure:
smooth bodies, bright to glimpse and shadow-grin intent
collide and mingle folds of pleasure, firmly
bent to tangle, clasp and spurn the world above,
rely on one another's breath, stored for loving
long in bubbles gasping sweet melodics free
as with imagined merfolk passion-songs of lore, prescient
lapping dance of tidal fruits you loved before they came,
moonray columns stage us in our seashift wombs--again--
within a womb--like instant chrysalises blinking luminescent bursts
i am interred within the waves you ripple into me, blind
carnal pressures built from ancient shores become the sea again
the magnitude entrances on its own, that acrophobic thrill
celestial in our interthreaded eyes, open
to a color deeply in the dark of octopodal ink
a curtain phosphorescent armpit pulse,
caressing thumb and lip, billows, sways the dance anew,
to sonar drumbeat, pulmonary height
the spinal scream a surface ripple for the sky,
symphonic deep to barely whisper into air
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
You can taste the water. She did.
Limp left leg supports her weight,
not to mention the infant that clings to her breast,
malnourished and weak.
With her left arm around the little one, holding him tight,
she slowly kneels down at the stream.
Right hand clings to the white bowl
as it scoops the liquid silence into itself.
Her infant first. He eagerly sips.
Doesn't taste good, but he's too young to know any better.
Her turn. Surviving had never been harder,
but she tasted the water.
You can touch the earth. He did.
His men, arms at the ready, invade
after unsuccessful attempts
at resolving the conflict diplomatically.
The land was unclaimed, and worth a fortune.
Peace kept it asleep
until the drums of war awoke its aching body.
The General dismounts,
takes a moment to scan his men,
kneels down, extends his arm
and presses his hand firmly on the ground.
He lets the soil stain his fingers;
moist with the cleansed foundation,
but also thick, with the blood of his enemies,
now on his hand.
He begins to cry;
the rivalry between him and his brother
did not have to come to this,
but he touched the earth.
You can feel the wind. They did.
Walking along the shore of a vacant beach,
he asks to see her. She's confused.
He strips naked, right in front of her.
She giggles. He smiles back.
She's always hated her body,
convinced by the voices in her head
that she's ugly, overweight, and uninteresting.
Alas, she closes her eyes and strips. Her eyes open.
He's still smiling, even more so now.
His gaze turns towards the ocean.
They start to run,
but it's not colliding with the water
that ignites their soul;
it is the wind, raising their spirits
and carrying them as they leap into the cold.
They were terrified,
but they felt the wind.
As for the fire? That is up to you.
When your heart beats for someone so fast
you lose all spatial perception,
your soul is igniting.
When the acrophobic young adult
takes the leap with a bungee cord
strapped to her leg,
she's never felt so alive.
Love is fire. Fear is fire.
There's a phoenix laying dormant inside you,
and it waits;
not to be burned alive,
but rather burned to life,
and it yearns for the fire.
In essence,
You can taste the water,
touch the earth,
and feel the wind.
However,
Until you drink the ***** water solely to survive,
or shed the blood of your enemies
in the name of duty and honor,
or set your naked soul free
to embrace the wind,
taking that giant leap into the unknown,
I'm afraid you can only imagine the fire.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
I am not acrophobic
but
I'm afraid of falling
falling
.
.
.
in love
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
I'm acrophobic
But I ain't afraid of heights.
Instead, what I'm really afraid of
is the fall.
Jul 23, 2020
Jul 23, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC
Dear Sunset,
Although I'm acrophobic
Sometimes I want to forget my fear
Only to see you.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC