"breaststroke" poems
Swimming the English Channel,
struggling to make it to Calais,
I swam into Laura halfway across.
My body oiled for warmth,
black rubber cap on my head,
eyes hidden behind goggles,
I was exhausted, ready to drown,
when I saw her coming toward me,
bobbing up and down between waves,
effortlessly doing a breaststroke,
heading for Dover. Treading water
I asked in French if she spoke English,
and she said, "Yes, I'm an American."
I said, "Hey, me too," then asked her out for coffee.
2.8k
a chest that's empty
yet filled with lead
a mind torn so clearly
between the living and dead
the hair on my arms
standing straight in defense
of the words i was not able
to protect against
i spent years pretending
to feel nothing at all
until your eyes met mine
and i began to fall
but here i am pretending
to feel nothing at all
as once again i am reminded
that what comes must also go
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
send me a breeze, baby blue
maybe i'll swim on that love, to
her speckle-dust cobwebs
fingerstemmed
in her skin
tinting my feathered heart
with her mosaic smile,
shards of a past she screams,
"stay a while,
baby blue"
long enough to hold her frozen hands,
kicking at the ashes
sift.
sift through*
breaststroke through the debri
i caught your smile,
and fed it to,
the holes in her heart
wearing her
in
out*
in & out.
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 11:52 PM UTC
Lying just under syrup-film surface
St Vitus’ dance, pushing against ductile bonds
back-flips and breaststroke.
I, with my rolled up Mirror, swatted
surprised eyes followed the arc and plop!
That lemonade is useless now.
What did it think as it drew its last?
Enjoy the tang? Panic?
Does it realise?
Will it feel the bubbles push past?
It could grab one, **** the air.
I might dip my finger, crush or flick.
Gran and Granddad chatter drowned,
roast lamb, pipe and sunshine.
I twist the glass to get a better view.
The twitch slower, body fizz-jiving
will it sink to the lemonade-bed,
limp and cheerless?
I could stop this, the thought pushed aside by fascination.
Minutes tick past, chimes cut with miscounted accuracy.
I realise the last witness feels sad.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
notes,
when we walk easily and lowly
on an avenue, with a camera, with two hearts
we see and we have seen it
we breaststroke through a night so
dark and slovenly as to turn a sunrise purple
to red, ashamed
books,
when we love properly
when we speak slowly to better hear
the dripping of a warm and raining noon
there was nowhere left to go for us
coolly dryly, bookish we sat
and to a boyish morning, hurtled
will we sit again, as we walk
will we again open those books and laugh
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
i fondly recall you
as I take steps forward
and sip the new air:
an acquired taste
that I welcome.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
I was born with hitchhiker’s thumbs,
so I think you’ve always known I was transient.
You settled down on an island,
stranded us on the Atlantic,
hoping i’d glean meaning from the shore.
While you worked, I perfected my breaststroke.
The “Great Dominican Hope”
was hardly worth the boarding pass
you creased in a sweaty fist
back when Clinton was still president
and Old Glory still felt like a safety blanket.
You burned a prayer candle for every night I didn’t call,
ran calloused fingers down rosary beads
in the hopes that you’d see me
in some way other than old photographs.
7 years old in a Communion dress,
that’s how you remember me.
like i’m not 30 miles away but six feet deep,
I looked so grounded in church pews.
You still save me a seat.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
Sitting at the desk where so many white men have sat.
Sitting as the rats pick up their bats, ready to bash.
Throwing trash about to clash all because she didn't win a sash that said she was feminine enough to be liked
But masculine enough to be respected.
She is better than expected.
she connected, Corrected and directed this country in their time of need. And I need her! We Need her!
I want to be Her.
But if I cannot be her at least I would like to see her.
Lips red from where she ****** the competition dry
Arm strong from where she pulled herself out of the grave she was born in.
And when she pulls herself to that podium? That is the new morning.
And while the rats are mourning
The age of American women will be dawning!
She will be Drawn in a glorious light in the temples of women's minds.
And she will not just be kind
But ruthless/\
be soft
And still impenetrable like steel
Not be pretty.
But absolutely gorgeous
And we will call her Diana because a
Ruthless, toothless Amazonian Wonder woman she is.
The president?
Yeah you can call her Madam because no longer is she the biblical white man Adam
And Madam president?
Will be no longer a phantom.
Because just like Christine she only appears real to me.
Madam has a nice ring to I could sing to it
Praise to it.
Bathe to it
And while a phantom she will no longer be
She is an angle of music to me.
And when my daydreams are no longer daydreams
But every woman's wet dream become a reality.
I just hope everyone understands she didn't get here for free.
She wasn't dining with the queen at high tea.
She was using the breaststroke to cross the black sea
All to become the barbie you and me need to see.
The strong barbie
The I don't take no **** barbie
No longer coy
No longer submissive
I’ll be a ***** if I have to Barbie.
Unlike the African queen Cleopatra
She will not be bit.
That will not be the end of it.
Madam President
I could get used to it.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
we escape to a dark corner so only strangers surround us
i hate to admit i'm a little ashamed
(i know you have been wanting my curves
you know i have been weary)
What is that? You look, point, start to read
But i innterrupt your eyes and whisper saul's secrets to you myself
it's all about the delivery you see
or
maybe i am trying to find a reason to get closer to you
It's my second favorite, I say
What's your first?
I breaststroke back through your canals and reveal Julian's utopian paradise, peeling back the drapes of the boards that built me
I kiss these memorized words into your ear
You are surprised to hear a ***** poem,
Laced with ***** and ***** that catch you off guard
I watch as the ballad sinks into your shoulders
I can tell you have never been with a girl who gets turned on by poems.
Your arms sing higher around my hips
Grips grow tighter
Perhaps this is the first time you have been turned on by a poem.
am i what you expected?
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
There are things to worry
See in a hurry or a blurry
Move or push in a scurry
Yes even thoughts to bury
But a false premise builder
Often strikes match flash light
Whoa oh how bright oh bright
Let shine and blind bewilder
Imbedding their charges against others to come
Looking at the world in black or white smothers to some
Whispering character assassinations
Then twist and turn and speaking bass drum
Punches, scream oh no accept reply
Dive swim down deep pressure diving
Breaststroke splash splash accusation conniving
Slow blow mean demean, all to be sight unseen
Hide hide, what you?
Hey say, are often the hiders themselves
A skew, how shrew, the essence, yes the crux
Full one side story oh there is never
Force grab oh don’t push neither left nor right lever
Oh middle lever free is never to be oh unfree decree
Everyone forever on the mend
Though never even a soft only a hardened bend
Why oh why, why not to me now unfriend?
Try I to comprehend!
I trip tripness darkness spread
So must free flow words here this letterhead
Mind fever drugging underflow
No not no not yes knot oh complete knot tightening blow
Cheers, punch gut to me inner character assassination
My heart covered by trepidation
Fast forward roundabout rewind harsh lamentation
One sided black or white, out of spite and protection might
Middle ground oh of constant unbound
Oh why middle never to be truly found
To the mirror is the appearer
And yes all humanity can be vanity
So seek sanity says *** to kettle
Oh what, is there nothing to settle?
As member of humanity I am
Realize hurt I may have caused
Though not mal-intended
Yes not so intended to those befriended
Though deep down result is same
I neither disclaim my blame nor take crooked aim
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC