"funambulist" poems
Strangers acquaint, announcing particularities.
Thrills run across hungry nerves;
pleasure mounts in rising expectations:
First ruminating, next devouring,
then coalescing into one complete whole.
Gently the wintry chill advances
imperceptible to unschooled senses.
Mirages of fullness fade while realization grows.
Ah, the tender vulnerability of intense gratification.
Discovery of naivety’s betrayal is complete
in the consumption of perfected death.
(Cold as mirrored glass, rebounding time,
numbing fire.) An embodiment of suffocating pain,
The paroxysm climaxes... waiting for release.
(Stretched, drained, quietly entertaining sympathy.)
This sultry expansion - extended abeyance of joy -
turns knowledge of fulfillment into hope that
blends with the waters of insecurity.
(Moments of compression, burning sickness
intensifying with each presentation,
development of indeterminate expectations,
vacillation between stimulating passion and alarm.)
A formidable moment charges toward the funambulist.
Balance seems impossibly demanding.
Abruptly the event ends, time stops, breathing ceases …
The babe is held in loving arms -
forgotten pain, dissolving woe.
Her tender grace, alluring charms
beget a great, supernal flow.
Kerry Ann Herrmann
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
I wish I could say,
“Let’s meet up again later in life,
not right now.”
I’m so happy to hear from you,
really, I am,
but I don’t have room for you.
I just don’t have the time.
This is hard for me, please
don’t resent me
I’m sorry for letting you go.
I feel fate pounding on my door -
We almost feel inevitable.
But you’re better off without me right now,
I promise.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC