"foramen" poems
Evening hours of playing
peekaboo with the sun
And i lay down lavender words
loping and longing in my
journey to you
Crossing infinities of time
Chiding my days
And chastising my ways
For you to return
When you retreated like a soft
murmur
Like gentle untuned ripples
Like the melancholic wind that
blows and draws in through
my window
Addressing my pages and
leaving without reciting my
rhymes
Like the fumble fuming puff
hailing then slowly fading and
failing
Foamy and fluffy with the
froathy cream yet not
savouring the flavour
Calling yet not caressing
Rhyming yet not flowing
Leaving me like a vagabond
With a foramen self
Grappling ,gripping and then
giving the grave,
the soul you gave
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
with a hole in my heart
I have to take care
not to let all the love spill out
desiccating a young heart before its time,
even if borrowed and not returned before it's due
whenever that will be.
don't tell life's librarian
even if it's overdue
there are things I'd still like to see
places I'd still like to go
so I don't feel like I'm waiting for the hangman
to finish his merit badge for one handed knot tying
which will take long enough
if not forever, I hope.
though stumbling up the gallows steps
I will have been to several mountain tops
and will have seen several lands of promise
and though I will not make it elsewhere with you
you've filled the hole in my heart
long enough
for me to get this far
though it's never far enough.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
have you ever swam through the dark
and the lights switch haphazardly from on to off
whoever was on the shore has long since gone home
a pair of footprints sunk into the waves
and when you realized you were the villain
did the water become deeper? when he told you to be honest
did you feel every lie creep up your spine? not a shiver
but a steady climb,
each fib a hand dug into a thoracic foramen
squeezing into the spaces you hid your darkest self
a leak in the structure
you're crying give me love
from the bottom of sandy trenches
open palms that are only raging deserts
it's not a question but a statement of fact--
why love the things that still haven't learned
what they want? the weak kneed girls
that leave trails of broken bones and healed boys
slivers of metal wound in their hair
and just enough poison to really '
work it in
be honest he says
on
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
All this talk about
heart's
what about
Ascending Vena Cava'
or Sternocleidomastoid's
wouldn't it be
romantic
If I gave you;
my
foramen magnum
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
What shall
we tell them?
I have left diamonds
where her eyes were,
have left a strawberry
where once
her kissable lips
pouted.
There is a half moon
in the night sky,
stars flick off and on
as if some madman
flicked a switch
on and off.
What shall
we tell them?
There is a hollow
where once her heart
was pumping away
in its organic way
just yesterday.
Anima foramen,
that gulf between
love and hate,
indifference
and wanting it to last,
when it has died
in a coughing fit
of laughter.
Where is
your heart?
Where your soul?
We shall tell
them nothing,
they shall know
nothing of that loss,
that hole where
your heart was,
that hollow ring
along the chambers
of your veins,
like echoes of laughter
down dark country lanes.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC