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"aubade" poems
An ode seems appropriate To the classical style Of the columns and the domes Above the green court. Many things have adorned that dome: Squad car, fire truck, droid, and phone But today, viewed in a mind's eye—sunlight. But as were that phone booth still apparent From afar it now calls, and now I shall answer. Over the river, and through the urban jungle, Through the sky, 400 miles, as the airliner flies But worth every inch, rod, meter or smoot. It beckons to the mind and to the heart; It beckons to the soul of a scholar. Were I less knowing I might think not That light fell from above onto that dome. But rather, that the hemisphere Gave forth the blazing light ebullience of photons, amidst Torrents of knowledge. Its hallowed halls, numbered precisely, Soon no longer a forbidden temple shall be Instead, I shall tread there, such as I am Learn from efforts I effect and others I see O Halls, I shall greet thee, O Tunnels in winter Traverse and find warmth to keep body to task For knowledge, always, comes with a high price In joules, dollars, cents, days and hours of rest Long nights turn to dawns, nose to the grindstone Maybe just one more tool; okay, maybe another. But brother meets brother, and sister meets sister On both sides of the river, and the work gets done. Whether Greek or not, there is community here A problem, or a set of them, is always seen through. As the sun now rises, a new day sets in. In a few hours of my life I will rise to these challenges. With a chirping, I shall cross the paths that I come to, Enter the halls .. and my journey shall begin. ~ D. B. Guy
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
A Scholar's Aubade
An ode seems appropriate To the classical style Of the columns and the domes Above the green court. Many things have adorned that dome: Squad car, fire truck, droid, and phone But today, viewed in a mind's eye—sunlight. But as were that phone booth still apparent From afar it now calls, and now I shall answer. Over the river, and through the urban jungle, Through the sky, 400 miles, as the airliner flies But worth every inch, rod, meter or smoot. It beckons to the mind and to the heart; It beckons to the soul of a scholar. Were I less knowing I might think not That light fell from above onto that dome. But rather, that the hemisphere Gave forth the blazing light ebullience of photons, amidst Torrents of knowledge. Its hallowed halls, numbered precisely, Soon no longer a forbidden temple shall be Instead, I shall tread there, such as I am Learn from efforts I effect and others I see O Halls, I shall greet thee, O Tunnels in winter Traverse and find warmth to keep body to task For knowledge, always, comes with a high price In joules, dollars, cents, days and hours of rest Long nights turn to dawns, nose to the grindstone Maybe just one more tool; okay, maybe another. But brother meets brother, and sister meets sister On both sides of the river, and the work gets done. Whether Greek or not, there is community here A problem, or a set of them, is always seen through. As the sun now rises, a new day sets in. In a few hours of my life I will rise to these challenges. With a chirping, I shall cross the paths that I come to, Enter the halls .. and my journey shall begin. ~ D. B. Guy
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39
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, And Phoebus ‘gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise! Arise, arise!
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3.8k
Aubade
All those songs about waking up in a lover's arms-- I don't know what they're talking about. Oh, I've known the happy wedding night mattress on the floor amid the stacks of packing boxes and the delicious view when the world narrows to a single cherished face. The bee, though, doesn't live inside the bloom, and goes still inside a jar. Touched on every side by an adoring indigo night, there is still just one Moon. Allow me morning alone in my garden with just my mug and dog. It doesn't mean I never loved you, or loved you less. There is only one dawn--this one and it only waits so long.
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Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 5:16 PM UTC
Aubade II
Trill of beak into birch. Dawn spooks the graveyard into silence. A heart hardens at God’s withered finger reaching but not reached for. I trim the hedges and the whir of weed-eater disturbs a nest of yellow jackets into tornado, dust devil, of translucent wings and sting. I walk among the dead three times a week. I am learning their language. They relearn the mundanity of white noise above and quietly forget, quietly forgive. This hill is the crest on a wave of coffins, each one a boat through the world below. Submerged in a bloodshot morning I listen to a woodpecker in its throes of building a home out of the depths of bark. In the chill, the soft fog rolling, it pecks and it knocks. The doors to these lives long closed, I hush. I do not believe God will visit these grounds to reclaim his clay: I plant flowers in it between the plots, each name engraved of marble a blank stare. The flash of red flushes from budding branches and I return to work. No one answers. I relearn the dead’s language, their silence, relearn every day how to repair stillness.
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Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
Aubade with Red Woodpecker
Rise softly, rise gently, waking dawn And let the drowsy sun yawn a while Beside me, my love sleeps in peaceful bliss With crescent eyes and a crescent smile The morning breeze may tease the blooms That wait to unfold with the sun's blush - But softly, blow gently, oh morning breeze Let the wind chimes be still, quiet, hushed Rest your melodies, singing birds and bees And cease the fluttering of your wings The hum, the drone, the medleys Quiet the rustling and the whispering Why gurgle so loud - river- change your course Flow far away, past the mangroves For how lustily you gush, bubbles and froth Shhshh...love sleeps - eyes closed But alas - the river stays, making its music The birds from their songs shall never cease And the morning breeze breathes free Tinkling wind chimes, hustling leaves Rise - the sun shall and burst in gold And the world'll be in daylight's warm embrace My love will waken yet I still revel - For sun lights the grace of my love's face
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Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
Rise slowly dawn, my love sleeps (aubade)
There are no bells, but they are there lining the streets, palms outstretched women on their knees between cream-colored petals of orchids carelessly blooming by the drainage ditch their scrubbed feet free of rice paddy mud with palm fronds overhead in their hands, cut butter and fruit for the monks that file past in smart orange robes if you were here, you would watch them with me you would peel lychee fruits for breakfast at this hour the people are wide awake and the day is struggling to keep up somewhere behind the early clouds the sun is winking over the trees morning birds never seem to sing here where the rain has been falling for days
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Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
Thai Aubade
sing me an aubade at beginning of aurora serene and mellifluous it's like a reverie, a felicity you soliloquize, so calm that it could be psithurism I hear the beating of your heart, like the sound of a watch enwrapped in cotton a summer's zephyr opens the balcony windows, so gently dust particles are dancing in the morning light and are slowly falling on the white bedding sheets do you smell the scent of our neighbor's citrus trees? 2 hours by car is Venice and I invite you to stay in the enchanted and narrow alleys with me
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Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 3:30 AM UTC
italian summer
JANE, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again; Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair, Jane, Jane, come down the stair. Each dull blunt wooden stalactite Of rain creaks, hardened by the light, Sounding like an overtone From some lonely world unknown. But the creaking empty light Will never harden into sight, Will never penetrate your brain With overtones like the blunt rain. The light would show (if it could harden) Eternities of kitchen garden, Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck, And wooden flowers that 'gin to cluck. In the kitchen you must light Flames as staring, red and white, As carrots or as turnips shining Where the cold dawn light lies whining. Cockscomb hair on the cold wind Hangs limp, turns the milk's weak mind . . . Jane, Jane, Tall as a crane, The morning light creaks down again!
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2.4k
Aubade
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what's really always there: Unresting death, a whole day nearer now, Making all thought impossible but how And where and when I shall myself die. Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify. The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse - The good not done, the love not given, time Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never; But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here, Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true. This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound, No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anasthetic from which none come round. And so it stays just on the edge of vision, A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill That slows each impulse down to indecision. Most things may never happen: this one will, And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood. Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape. It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know, Have always known, know that we can't escape, Yet can't accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
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2.4k
Aubade
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what's really always there: Unresting death, a whole day nearer now, Making all thought impossible but how And where and when I shall myself die. Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify. The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse - The good not done, the love not given, time Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never; But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here, Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true. This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound, No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anasthetic from which none come round. And so it stays just on the edge of vision, A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill That slows each impulse down to indecision. Most things may never happen: this one will, And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood. Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape. It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know, Have always known, know that we can't escape, Yet can't accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
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50
How do I love you - in poem or prose In a story, a eulogy, aubade or an ode? I could love you in a sonnet A senryu, though terse I'd spill my heart - drop by drop Or ink it verse after verse I could write a terzannelle A villanelle I could chance Tapping on the refrain of love The feet of romance I could weave metaphors and similes Sweet and sublime Or trip down the keys Playfully alliterate each line How do I love you? I can love you as I do - In simple words that are writ - From a heart that is true
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Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
How Do I Love You?
Words words to say words to say for those who possess a quiescent soul vibrations forming into susurrus breathes, spun by Love. Love is an oxymoronic, overly celebrated, seemingly sempiternal happening that is eternally ephemeral, lasting a very short t i m e. Love speaks with words that no matter how dis-joint-ed sound wonderfully euphonious - a sonic euphoria a billet-doux made from absolutely nothing but the very rawness of being absolute. Love is a little more than chimerical. Love is a clinquant aubade that requires redamancy. redamancy. Love requires love to exist in it's eternal shortness, to exist in the mere seconds that are allowed to exist in the ephemeral time frame of a blip in space of decades and decades that no one will rememeber and that will not matter to the masses and will mean absolutely nothing to everyone else except for the one that is awake enough to look directly at Love.
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Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Words to love by
Sweet the skin, The taste of hazel, Her eyes the colour of passion. The curvature of her bones like the number of August. The sheen of her body the colour of Spring. Between her lips the warmth of an ocean To be liberated from its dam of cotton. Warm silk, Thick, warm to the touch Like the flesh of a peach, Sweetness of a plum. A lock to a key, The sand to the sea. Freedom -- And creation. Humidity of the Amazon, Sweat of the wild. Intensity of fear Gravitys pressure Lost in space between flesh, Covered in a flickering light Just the outline in your sight. Her body akin to mans best friend Each nerve touched to the brainwaves sent, Glee only seen by the twitch of the bottom kiss. As the light protrudes through the window pane, No interruptions, No aubade. Into the light, To match heat emitted of the Sun.
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Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 5:48 AM UTC
Profound Heat; No Aubade
The level of betrayal Hit me on multiple levels Beyond the shadows, Was it the Devils kiss Those moonlit craters, in the gallows, That created those layers In the mountains of the Himalayas, Will they ever tell us, The secrets lost within those meadows Flourishing down at base camp. Flying those false flags in eminence, whilst were sentenced in the highlands. Hidden haters, Camouflaged in winter colours, the mesa range a inhabited massif, A hint of frostbite, That in hindsight could cost lives, of those trapped beneath the icy nights. The snowfall is just drop of ice, Stinging the eyes of those blinded by the shards of glass icicles in the avalanche. A ridge away from the mountain range safety nets. Disrespected tor of mother natures indignation. Only the indigenous survive. Yet in the flames of exasperation, In the footsteps of evanesce, A liquesce renders the snow storm useless, as the sun melts the inundation of the snow slide. An aubade ray takes over the landscape, oxidating snowflakes one by one like a machine guns wake. The temperate rise coincides with the rise of hope within the atmosphere. The patterns clear and the same mistakes will be made over and over again until the atmosphere is damaged so severe; The sun itself will cry a tear.
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Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
the land of the crying sun.
i. dear poetry, we met when i was four, you were count lestat, and it was love at first sight. you were made of bone and bane, and razors, i was a mosochist and you were a black widow, i would know, i was there, trying to pry open all of your eight legs, looking for the amrita. ii. dear poetry, if i were to answer all of the thirteen questions you have ever asked me, the answers would be, no, no, yes, march the thirty second, "how frail a human heart must be -", diacetylmorphine without the butterfly, mother, yes, barely, jolene, you don't love me, contractility, and no. iii. dear poetry, you have pretty legs. iv. dear poetry, i am an ugly archetype of denuded adolescence and i think you smell like teenagers and a leather hacked smothered in *** and black labels and ck perfume, and a pound of god. v. dear poetry, if sleep is the brother to death, where does my mother lie, before ribbons of aubade seek the flower in the sky? vi. dear poetry, today i don't think i love you anymore. vii. dear poetry, if you were humanised, you would be ugly. you would be defleshed, you would be ugly. you would be marked constantly by ugly people and you would bleed ugly people. viii. dear poetry, today i might ********** my muses, i might make them wear fishnet leggings, with ****** heels, i might give them ***** to suit others that **** them better than i do, and it is all your fault. ix. dear poetry, i promise myself i would not speak to you anymore, at least not in words, but we both know poets are nothing but liars, don't we? x. dear poetry, i am not a poet, all the poets are dead. they died for you. xi. dear poetry, i am writting you thirteen letters a year, they are ugly, like i am, they spell an ugly word you would never speak of. you will be anatomised, i will stuff you with consangunuty, i will re-invent you. xii. dear poetry, you are older than me, i am twenty, but you are only ten, i am ripe, bruised, plucked from purple lips, nothing is ageless. xiii. dear poetry, i am going to break you, grind you in a mortar, roll you up, into a blunt, and i am going to smoke you along with the angels.
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Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
thirteen
i. dear poetry, we met when i was four, you were count lestat, and it was love at first sight. you were made of bone and bane, and razors, i was a mosochist and you were a black widow, i would know, i was there, trying to pry open all of your eight legs, looking for the amrita. ii. dear poetry, if i were to answer all of the thirteen questions you have ever asked me, the answers would be, no, no, yes, march the thirty second, "how frail a human heart must be -", diacetylmorphine without the butterfly, mother, yes, barely, jolene, you don't love me, contractility, and no. iii. dear poetry, you have pretty legs. iv. dear poetry, i am an ugly archetype of denuded adolescence and i think you smell like teenagers and a leather hacked smothered in *** and black labels and ck perfume, and a pound of god. v. dear poetry, if sleep is the brother to death, where does my mother lie, before ribbons of aubade seek the flower in the sky? vi. dear poetry, today i don't think i love you anymore. vii. dear poetry, if you were humanised, you would be ugly. you would be defleshed, you would be ugly. you would be marked constantly by ugly people and you would bleed ugly people. viii. dear poetry, today i might ********** my muses, i might make them wear fishnet leggings, with ****** heels, i might give them ***** to suit others that **** them better than i do, and it is all your fault. ix. dear poetry, i promise myself i would not speak to you anymore, at least not in words, but we both know poets are nothing but liars, don't we? x. dear poetry, i am not a poet, all the poets are dead. they died for you. xi. dear poetry, i am writting you thirteen letters a year, they are ugly, like i am, they spell an ugly word you would never speak of. you will be anatomised, i will stuff you with consangunuty, i will re-invent you. xii. dear poetry, you are older than me, i am twenty, but you are only ten, i am ripe, bruised, plucked from purple lips, nothing is ageless. xiii. dear poetry, i am going to break you, grind you in a mortar, roll you up, into a blunt, and i am going to smoke you along with the angels.
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68
delphinium migrant blue, and into night we follow, toward the residue of morning, where there's no time limit to grief. you wake with electric intervals, something's wrong with yesterday, in your head are galaxies like grains of salt, and they fill up the sky. these red metallic balloons, that come to you when you are ripped open, whether it’s by pain and heartache or you’re falling in love, these you can’t close yourself off to. but what you actually want is to bypass them, and try to reach that dawn serenade, which is floating above them, as if golden electric ribbons which don’t demand repayment.
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Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
aubade
the false dawn banishes false hopes of finding sleep ahead of the rising sun transient glow accompanies first blush birdsong the cardinal's aubade ushering greeting the brush's first stroke across the canvas of night twitching limbs bloodshot eyes nonstop freight train of thought all night long - these afflictions allow me to witness the lonely beauty of today's sunrise
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Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
The Upshot Of Insomnia
you will write yourself empty with talk of sieve hands and sifting hearts and you will write yourself selfish before anyone teaches you the definition of the word. poetry is as good a punching bag as anything else and you don't have to be lonely to come back here but it's been months and I haven't been able to write anything worth reading that didn't begin with, "I." here is my hand-me down hymn, my rebel yell my soft and quiet my church floor my vaulted ceilings my elegy my aubade my fear-- I send quarter notes stumbling when I'm not careful. there have been poems I wish I could write: my mom's hands like cracked mosaics, my unforgiving, weak winter skin, my sister's sharp wolf heart my dad's icicle fingers melting an entire four seasons spent searching for words under rocks the teeth of my fear shredding the meat of this poem. it has been a year, and I don't worry anymore. the quiet, craggy shape of my fear will stretch itself out in the sun when it's time. until then, tell them I'm home tell the commas to come in tell the exclamation points to vacate their tree tell the question marks that now isn't the time for questioning-- tell the words I'm home.
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
A Poem
the cracks in the shades make stripes along my sheets eternity and death laying beside me it's time for them to leave but their promises will never vacate the indentation on my mattress their breathing, their whispers of truth that progression is happening that the world is spinning that I am dying spending hours assuming that their touch will render me into anything but a funeral pacing in a skull when they leave, I am sure they will never return. for this figment of my imagination, has ended me
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Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
Aubade
A composer of the stars, & astronaut of dreams, the unsung swan of the night, who draws the paintings of her thoughts, the clouds of dandelions fields forever in reverie, her sigh settles the seas of lilac dreams, as music plays, she enjoys the indigo hues of a bohemian way of life, and every person on this earth is, in their own way, an eccentric of their own hue, upon the painting of life in the microcosmos to the lights beyond, one possesses the traveler in the chest, a seeker of the secret, unrevealed revelations, a hidden lover of truth, a flower always in perpetual rebirth, the secret dancer of the night, musing upon the wisdom of how every human holds the aubade within the intricacy of their silver scales, in the deeper tides of eyes meeting to become one in the balladry of being within each other’s gaze, for eyes reveal the drifters, who sail in the ocean of words and catch her star-dew, where she hears the hidden, secluded symphonies, they reveal the lights of their own as time, the mysterious one, flows her fabric and they grow closer to one, she watches upon them unfolding, as she opens her wings, they close their eyes, when two had once seeked to be other than the truth of self, from their chests are opening butterflies, they awaken in their cocoon, awaiting the voyage to the moon, the poet sits by his window, and softly sung “all of what the eyes see in bloom is poetry”
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Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
Bloom
Sweet the skin, The taste of hazel, Her eyes the colour of passion. The curvature of her bones like the number of August. The sheen of her body the colour of Spring. Between her lips the warmth of an ocean To be liberated from its dam of cotton. Warm silk, Thick, warm to the touch Like the flesh of a peach, Sweetness of a plum. A lock to a key, The sand to the sea. Freedom -- And creation. Humidity of the Amazon, Sweat of the wild. Intensity of fear Gravitys pressure Lost in space between flesh, Covered in a flickering light Just the outline in your sight. Her body akin to mans best friend Each nerve touched to the brainwaves sent, Glee only seen by the twitch of the bottom kiss. As the light protrudes through the window pane, No interruptions, No aubade. Into the light, To match heat emitted of the Sun.
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Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 6:18 AM UTC
Profound Heat; No Aubade
yestereve we succame A lengthy ballad of longing formerly one of obstinance flared in a cacophony of passion Whilst usually twirling in a seemly epitome fashion, yestereve a caprice thought laid heavy on hearts as there was no doubt of desire nor were there objections to her for even when my affections consumed you lady desire was just an inexorable yestereve she picked petals from a Sinensis blossom there went the pain any semblance of grudge along with sanity reason and lastly, walls as carefully constructed as that of Pyramus and Thisbe's such vulnerability unmatched for your sweet scent lulled me from the arms of reason for reason, although safe, is the most intricate and fragile part of the ballad and the first to fall victim to the cascade What a fool I must be to have gladly forgotten the kinks of your hands or the freckles on the back of your neck that form a perfect triad. The way your upper lip curls when you grin made my glissade blissful and passionate Your flustered twirl the very epitome of aubade Ignorant of the harsh retombe of reality Your flustered face En L'air Every touch a pleasant surprise that formed a grand symphony A moment of unfiltered emotion A heavenly ballad so cruelly of yestereve.
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Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 2:37 PM UTC
The Ballad of Yestereve
On a porch swing that creaks in the likeness of ancient knees, I think about the last time we kissed, how it felt so much like losing a tooth. The moon smiles crooked, slanted, a tilted guillotine scarring the darkness to blur the trees that rustle like fluid opals, fluttering like thousands of white flags. I was broken before you found me, a rusted hinge stuck half open letting anyone trespass. I imagine you walking up the drive in your lacey, white blouse: a ghost of Alice lost in the madhouse of a world fully armed by spades, all pointed like a thousand fingers at your collarbone. You would have gladly bore their nick for me. The moon is the Cheshire cat, questioning why I imagine such things. A dog barks at nothing down the block. A rabbit’s outline slinks into a gutter. Am I crazy to have loved you and sever us? The moon blinks. We’re all mad here, I think.
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Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
Aubade with Cheshire Cat
you are my big sun and i am the earth revolving around you yet irrelevant in comparison to the endless possibilities even beyond our galaxy i am not forced to depend on you but you are my source of energy and yet aside from countless stars that are out there you are the one providing me life and from all the places i could be i am here orbiting around you 365 days a year there's sirius and betelgeuse and a trillion billion others but you are the star i choose there's andromeda and dwarf galaxies and a trillion billion others but near you is where i want to be always revolved around you still left to discover the unknown but i prefer the status quo for you are my sun my sol my aubade bright star and if you were to disappear along with you i will leave my dear
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Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
center of my universe
How many years will it take me to forget the days we lapped the corners of your mother's artless garden tottering on Autumn's fruitless season. The sunken mornings brought winds of rupture in our chests; mingling in our underwear, standing in the doorway while I whistled you a song about how intimacy can be undoubtedly forgettable like the moon-blued waves we saw the weekend before sleeping on the south shores of Astoria. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up. Sea salt stuck in my scrawny hair and we wasted the afternoons trembling beneath layers of flickering guilt. This moment, yearned to have its imprint swollen shut into the crevice of my bones. But now, its tides later and you married last October and I don't see the point in remembering you. Now half-drunk on an absentee love.
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Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Aubade
I want to be the bed covers You wake to That your restless limbs Have smothered That your emanating body The fabric You have tossed-and-turned in 8 hours hence Imprinted with your scent And the mouthwash You gargle To swoosh-and-splash Along your tongue To be in you Like a liquid ache Sloshing Waking I want to be the fork You pick your eggs with My metallic spine In your slight fingers Your demure  hands Scarred sustenance Yolk sun I want to be the comb Tangled in your frizzy hair Your wavy hair of smoke And shadowed lakes As soft as lint Cascading I want to be the cig You light on the corner To warm the brick morning I want to hang on your quivering lips Like an autumn leaf from a branch I want you to inhale me And let your body loose Feel me utterly Then exhale... Let me evaporate Into the nothingness I was before You
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Post-Aubade