"featherlight" poems
You write 'Love' on her wrists
And watch it fade and blur through the tiny cracks in her skin
Until it's washed away in the bathroom sink
And all that's left is a featherlight kiss of ink on porcelain fingers.
She's rather like a sparrow, you see -
Your love is lost beneath her thrill of flight,
And the only way to keep her grounded
Is to tie her to this ring and cage her.
You don't have the heart to hear her sing for freedom,
And not the mind to set her free,
So you spread your lies like birdseed
To keep her interest that much longer.
But before you hope for too long,
Know that birds can only eat so much
Before they fly to their winter homes,
And come summer's end,
She may be feathers on your pillow.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
i. descend
i've lost weight since we last met
we fit differently from before-
bird-thin, the both of us-
but this hollow in your feathered chest is
still where i feel most at home-
your jade eyes
a nest, to cultivate my happiness
i've been betrothed to the birds
you stayed back, earthbound
i fell, a cataract, from the red cliffs
you watched me sink, earthbound
i was ripped to shreds in the tundra
freezing and thirsty
and you listened instead to the flowers,
drowning me out as i whispered for help
they told you sunlight stories
when i was trapped in dusk
i was an inch from the edge of night
and you fled
so as to not be consumed.
ii. unpend
i know what i told myself-
i said i shed my mourning veil-
but i still weep for the morning lark,
your lightening song
haunting my brittle nightingale
i write you letters every night
with a fountain pen slathered in red ink
saying what i never could,
spilling my regret on the page
(wake up with ****** hands)
i should have known
you were no one to trust
you're just a fledgling
we're all so naïve.
iii. the end
i take flight, for brave is the man
who would leap from the bluff
to prove his worth;
for i can take action now-
i can say this now,
where before i sat on the sidelines
i will not wilt
in your arms
just for a moment
i will hold you tight
my prisoner
thank you for keeping me alive
i don't need that anymore
thank you for staying by my side
when i had eyes set to ****
thank you for helping me to ascertain
that i’m no phoenix
thank you for participating in
my stupid guessing games
you were the match
to ignite my nicotine habits
but now i'm the one who's
decided to spark and fade
green-eyes,
i've made a decision
and this time i'll stick with it-
featherlight now,
i will make my escape
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
She was elegant and graceful.
Light as a feather
drifting upon an empty winters day.
Baby spiders crawled up her arms
she squashed them to crusty blood
upon her featherlight biceps.
They told her once that she was
the ugly duckling to the flawless
reflection of white.
How can all colors compare to the
purest?
She had long grey feathers.
They protruded from her back.
White never goes grey.
To the youthful feathers
on each unhappy bird.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Why must my lips speak
A melody my fingers can play
Must I weaken your ear
When I can weaken your knees?
Looks and sounds are nice
But feelings are beter
Why stumble over three words
When I can double your pleasure with
The featherlight touch of my fingertips
Words are so mundane
I would rather profane a moment with the
Unyeilding touch, the gift
Of all I have and have to give
To live with you wrapped, no curled
(my fingers, your toes),
No, gripping my fingers
Gasping the same way you did
When you were first given life
And given again
To arch and release, to obscene
The silence with the tell tale
Whimpering of two and too
Pleasurable
If there were ever such a thing.
I want to bring you to the edge
And hold you there, begging with
Your eyes, your lips, for sweet release
For your hands
To search for comforting firmness
For something to hold
All the while, inexorable circles
Of a lover’s touch, driving the point
Home like words cannot
Your lips and body making an ‘O’
I don’t have to say it, not now
Not that it would register,
I can give it
You can feel it
This is spiritual, this is everything
The apex of physiology, biology,
Of romance
Happiness brought in ways we could only
Previously imagine
Base instincts take over
(yet still only third)
Curling, my fingers, your toes
And it’s so intense, so beautiful
The three words seem so childish
So understated
Compared to this moment
Calling for a deity a thousand times
What else brings such passion?
Certainly not words, sweet as they can be
And it’s everything, Anything
I feel for you and you for me
In one moment
One moment
One moment
Slays three words
They’re one and the same
I won’t say it, not with my lips
(maybe later)
But you cannot deny the power of
The feelings
And what we do and have done
And will do
A small part of us
But for a moment, everything
Slayer of words
Crumbler of walls
Screams and moans
Pants and breaths, never to be found
Today two years, and a hundred and six days
All in one moment
Tomorrow should you so choose
One hundred and seven
The words can’t hold it all
Can’t hold what I feel for you
But two fingers
And many heartbeats can
It’s a gift.
It’s everything I have for you
And I’m giving it to you
For a moment, thirty seconds
However long it takes
For the breaths and the heartbeat
And the moans to rise to a ******
And gradually fall
Reveling in the moment, the Love
We’re not fools
No matter what they call it.
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
He scoops sands in baskets
then balancing neatly on the shoulder
carries to where needed
through bone breaking hours.
Upon his footprints is there a name
or a home
where he goes back for the night
lands featherlight kiss on a woman
awakes her sleepy bones with her hands
forgetting his days sinking in the sands.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
They touch
With a featherlight, brush of the fingertips.
Their prompt is a mere insinuation....
And their influence offered
As the slightest whisp of a wafting breeze.
But the impact made
Can be utterly monumental
And a driving impetus
To the receptive, creative soul
On a mission!
[email protected]
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
you're the boxspring billionaire of feel-good
saving up your love for a rainy year,
scrounging and saving every fleeting smile and shallow kiss and
miserly, hunched over with the weight of your own suffering and despair,
each scrapped-together pile of crumpled-from-your-pockets shreds of I.O.U.s and featherlight touches.
too afraid to leap and risk, you'll never grow or invest your affections into the stocks of Lisa and George LLC, or Francis and Kelly Inc.
so your love is bound to crumble into fragile dust, the fruits of your labours withering into mouldy piles of seed, stem, and flesh.
the could-have-been and might-have-grown dying, before even living to flourish and erupt into glorious blooms of the strikingly ethereal and otherworldy.
but not for you, not ever for you.
you're the boxspring billionaire of feel-good
and you'll burn before planting your love.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
Pastel blue sky longing to
Hang over wheat;
There is only grass.
Green.
Green with envy at white clouds as
They pass.
(A different journey)
Poplars strive to touch
Shrunken, grey clouds that
Recoil at the very sight.
Ah, the plight of an
Innocent gesture.
(Nowhere else to go)
Wind snears:
My train moves it so.
Grass is merely in the past
As I am slung
To and fro.
*
The seat next to me is empty. A passenger of invisibility kindly agrees for my bag to rest on their featherlight lap. Reservations elsewhere have been made.
Durham can wait.
*
In my lecture, there were four empty seats next to me. All other rows were full.
*
Last Monday, I got ****** at Stone Roses Bar. Stumbled along to ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor.’
Hands were all over me:
Creeping and
Touching.
Why is it that when
I want company, it flees?
When I embrace
Loneliness,
It molests me.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
Featherlight suffocation
Leaden words weigh tongues down
Free range cage
Weary heart o mine
Sagging against restraints
Drowning
Burning edges
I wish to tell you these words
Things you've already heard
Pressed into my vinly tongue
Scream the same three songs
1. I'm fine
2. We're fine
3. Our relationship is fine
Scalded skin
Boiling showers
To soak the worries away
To thaw out this anxiety
The insecurities
Its just me
Not everything seems
As polished as it was
Love still graces this heart
Love is a fear
Fear of fading
Falling out
Washing away
A castle crumbled by surf
Grains slipped
Mottled rib cages
Curled under a blanket
A sembalance of warmth creeping in
Mock comfort
Shells rattled by your breath
Inhale
Exhale
Turned over in these fragile hands
Committed to memory
As if it would be the last
Another sunrise
Surprise
Another relief
A sight to hold dear
Throughout this day
Just inside the preferial
Of this skull
Just in my head
My head
My head
This fear that you'll disappear
Vibrancy leeched out of this shell
Skin crisping
Withered
What if
You were
Never here
Just in my head?
The Last letter typed
Given form
To nightmares at the prow
How is it
So easy to breathe now
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:46 PM UTC
I am on Everest
But it’s suffocating my breath.
Wish it was like the Dream
Breathless Trek
Upbeat Track
Dirging my glory all around.
I am on Sea
But it’s killing my gut.
Wish it was like the Dream
Featherlight walk
Suspenseful score
Wailing my glory all around.
I am on Cliff.
But it’s breaking my step.
Wish it was like the Dream
Gladiator circus
Dropping riff
Lamenting my glory all around.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 6:36 AM UTC
*"you deserve someone beautiful.
let no one tell you otherwise."*
you think of her,
and you think
of dimly lit january midnights,
of poetry-filled evenings,
of renewed hope each morning,
of tireless afternoons waiting;
of crossed-finger whispers,
of untouchable constellations,
of iron-hearted wolf princesses,
of kindergarten hesitation;
of seconds between held breaths,
of clandestine glances,
of daylight cast upon her hair
of radiance.
you think of her,
and she is the sun.
or if you should think of me,
you would think
of inebriated exchanges,
of secrets drowned in caffeine,
of brushed away tears,
of faces within screens;
of image noise and film grain,
of ink-stained hands,
of nebulous confessions,
of an esoteric slow dance;
of adventitious white lies,
of flickering innocence,
of fire and brimstone,
of convenience.
you think of me,
and i am the ocean.
i am not saying
i am not deserving of you,
only that i am not the sun.
i am the ocean,
and you will only fall into me
after she has left your wings coming undone.
men do not attempt flight
in hopes of their descent.
men do not craft wings
seeking to fly into the convenient.
men like you have been wise enough
not to sink into girls like me.
girls like her have been kind enough
to keep themselves out of your reach.
she is the sun,
and you have flown too close.
your body is a kite lost to the wind,
just like what your father feared most.
i am the ocean,
and the possibility of you feels so close.
i count the seconds until you make contact
like a ticking alligator in the shadows.
i want to believe that it is bad
to want this so badly, believe me
i wish that when you broke my surface
it did not satiate me so quickly.
because for a moment
you may find me beautiful,
how my cool waves soothe your burns
and you feel featherlight in this lull.
but no one stays in the ocean for too long—
others' fingers prune away
others leave out of boredom
and though others return none actually remain.
perhaps you could be different,
perhaps you would never leave me for the shore.
and should you decide to stay,
there would be nothing i'd want more.
but should you start gasping for air,
should you tire of the taste of saltwater and the sight of blue,
should your arms start reaching out again towards her,
i will not take it against you.
you deserve someone beautiful.
to deprive you of this would be a great transgression.
after all she is the sun,
and i am only the ocean.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
In the rain i feel alone
forlorn and unloved
yearning for your embrace
your cold lips on my hand.
the warmth of your touch
on my sensitive skin.
the smooth caress of your
featherlight touch.
sleep eludes me
your face invades my mind
and I long for a walk in the rain
to clear my head of you
to feel your presence with me.
In the rain am alone with you.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 6:51 AM UTC
Little bird
Corrupted
No longer a symbol of
Freedom and flight.
Little bird
Distorted
Your flutterings haunt
My featherlight, restless
Dreams.
Little bird
Polluted
Hover no more, Horror feathers
have no place here,
Migrate, away, begone.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
Legs tangled together, clammy skin on skin, and the sun
rising behind pointed rooftops, painting the sky
an aquarelle of budding peonies and candied orange peel.
Bruised lips taste of chocolate and blueberries, and the
white wine from last night. My arms feel heavy and
my soul is featherlight, soaring into the sunshine.
The morning air is crisp in a way that announces
summer heat for the coming day, and a discarded blouse
moves with the breeze. Life is eminent yet strangely
far away from this corner of the earth that we have
burrowed ourselves into, hidden from the universe.
The city hums with life and wisdom and love, and we
have watched it burst into song and whisper quietly
but it has never seemed as beautiful as now.
Fingers link together like souls have, and lips brush
in a greeting, in recognition, and then smile.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
A simple golden band
full of promises.
So often unworn
to protect its fragile nature,
now a phantom reminder things lost.
Locked away to help forget,
but my thumb still absently rubs
the place it use to rest.
A memory of five long years
connected by smiles and featherlight kisses,
laughs, tears, and frustrations,
disappointments and disconnections,
leading to that final break
of a home thought to last till death.
That warm band now stone cold
telling more than words ever could
of love abandoned and forlorn.
A band now used in deceit
to fool potential mates,
rather than the symbol
it's suppose to be.
But still it brings pain
to the mind
of what could have been
of what should have been
of what would have been.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
the evening when you have-to-realize
your voice is steady soft but your eyes give you up and
he holds you closer (just because) because you let him, now
nothing-to-lose while you lose him, now
and your eyes give you up while your voice--
This Is What You Wanted.
and he touches your jawbone featherlight with strong hands
instead of talking
the last days the most beautiful, per always
and tears on call for a drop of coffee on your jeans
or nothing
or writing in your datebook with the pen that was his--
This Is What You Wanted
the room to move your elbows,
and level ground
and the scratch of his chin on your forehead for
not-quite-the-last-time
and remembering before you memorized his cheekbones
and fingertips and the song he didn’t know would make you sad
remembering when you shook hands and talked television, siblings, weather
you wake up for the new dawn and the
It Will Be Okay, but first, it won’t
in four, three, two
one
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
These dreams intrude even the most calloused mind,
Terrify the most resistant heart.
And can't you see they are searching for you!
Crumbling into your suspicious stare.
This sand filled anchor seems featherlight.
It only takes a moment,
You see,
And all is changed.
Mistakes made to not be repeated.
Once more you doll,
No more your puppet.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
mirror fright
featherlight
always putting up a fight
first star i see tonight
i wish i may i wish i might
someone please help me fight
this deathly sight
my featherlight
before i disappear
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
Something new arose today
bloomed right from a stem life planted
A friendship fresh between unknown world's
between the pages of a book seen slanted
Not at all normal
yet completely right,
seeds from words featherlight
a friendship new
right from a stem life planted
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
It has been a while
since I first saw your face
and since I saw you last
you had me dancing to
the tune of your charm
walking on featherlight feet
barely touching the ground.
I still feel the emptyness
left by your essence
you filled the space around
and now am alone.
hard to face the truth
that you are forever gone.
I buy your favorite flowers
lay them by your grave
walk your favoured route
and feel you by my side
then am not so alone
your touch on my shoulder in the sun
your kiss on my lips in the wind
your desire in the storm
though you are gone you are here.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
gravitate in me
ever so
s l o w l y
and ineffablycontinuousforgetthehaltandpressonlikeahandtoapageturningadayandforgettingthenight,
a featherlight detritus,
or matutinal climb vertical among
hills, this is you in most fervent memory:
snowing now endlessly,
i slalom through the obstacles
of you without no clear sight
of tomorrow.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
the pool, of still water,
you have become,
distresses less,
as rocks are tossed to form rings,
that echo silently across the pool you have become,
winsome waves, echo in not so perfect circles
but even the rocks,
settle
to the bottom,
you no longer ask "who tosses these rocks at me?"
the answer would always be "Life"
bringing strife and stinging tears,
but that is the past,
moments upon moments,
the water droplets in you,
the pool are pulled skyward,
like the daydreams you hold dear and
release,
with out fear,
as clouds roll gently in,
the wind parks them and
soon the rain falls, like healing tears
find their way down to
fill you, the pool again
for another peaceful day,
the wind skims the surface,
dancing across open water,
featherlight
in the moonlight, I
sit staring,
smiling, questions without
answers,
wanting to throw myself,
clothes and all and in the fall,
make a splash then,
soak in that pool, that you have
become,
where I have never been before.
The pool that you, have become
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
*Drongos are not as brittle ***** as me
Though my nightly poems have ceased to be
They’re still up in wings’ ceaseless flight
Feeding on insects buzzing in moonlight!
I love to call these birds night’s lone flame
Poems after poems love to write on them
A diurnal bird with nocturnal spree
Mocks my cessation of nightly poetry!
Drongos the revelers of nightly carnival
I hold them in envy think them rival
Never miss a moon these foragers of night
Their tireless wings hold the might of a knight!
I often wonder if they ever build a nest
Ever feel the urge for a soft cushioned rest
For I hear them sing in the most wee hours
When the dawn still bathes in dewy showers!
I wish my mind had the Drongo’s might
My poems flew like their wings featherlight
Poured out my words like the bird’s song
Overcoming sleep poems flowed nightlong!*
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC