"breathily" poems
My seat upon the balcony in the indoor stadium
Overlooked the stage and playing band.
On my phone, I told my friends where I was
Fishing for jealousy.
(I was an *** then)
She was the only of two replies
"I'm here too!"
Last spring, she told me of her affections,
And my mind fell to wondering if it still was true.
The stick bent, then.
During the intermission period,
I called and asked her to meet me in the lobby.
She obliged, and after running down the stairs,
I considered her in earnest.
The stick was stressed.
I thought about how it would be to hold her hand.
I thought about how it would be to kiss her.
I thought about how she would be.
I reached the landing and jumped down the rest of the flight.
There she was, looking for me.
How long had she been searching for me?
(I was a little conceited then, too)
The stick screamed in pain.
I tapped on her shoulder from behind, and she swiveled on a point.
"Hi" I said dumbly and breathily. She smiled.
The stick snapped. It shattered into a million pieces.
She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
And we talked about how cool her boyfriend was.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 9:51 AM UTC
A tale of a lady in waiting.....
Emily did speed dating,
For her swain she is waiting,
Emily, anticipating,
Hopes fantasising,
Are her nuptials nearing?
Is today that diamond appearing?
Shall she have a solitaire ring?
Preceding her white wedding?
Now her swain is appearing,
He has a burning question,
She waits for his suggestion,
She's the lady in waiting,
Is her swain proposing?
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He sighs, heavily,
"Here is my question burning,
I ask my soul's deep yearning,"
Emily waits for a diamond ring,
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
Swain whispers breathily,
The lady is waiting....
"Can you marinate chicken wings?"
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He yells angrily,
"That's rude, how crude!
That's the last time I see you!"
Now her own wings she is marinading,
Does she resume speed dating?
Does Emily ever stop dreaming?
Solitaire ring anticipating,
The lady is waiting,
The lady is waiting,
And waiting, and waiting, and waiting............
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Museum. Utter me as wind
with mouth-grope. Consent
to it as deer in headlights, smacked
all up on the floor, smacked
give me some more. Head
-crash gorgeous a finish. Love.
Drink we me! Regale me
with song! Breathily
transform me as seed
and meter. Ruin me
as ancient crumbling
tower. Marble. Pose
in certain frame and
snap and post as private
adventure. Swallow.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
You can see her in the air.
It's early still but she's there.
The Winter and all her simple glory. She glides across the patrons' skin
like smooth silk caressing every cell
with a gentle kiss.
She slips between the crevices like
water, cleansing the dirt and grim
from those hard to reach places.
I see her and I watch.
I watch
from the supermarket parking lot as she works her magic
on the people, the leaves, the cars, and the trees.
I watch as she pours her soul into the very air that we breath.
She's so kind.
She adds a healthy pink glow to the body
I watch her as she breathily massages the shoulder of every living thing I see,
painting them with peace;
everything that is,
except me.
She glides through me as if I am simply not here.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC