"howitt" poems
As
the leaf
falls,
words
fail
me
again.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 1:43 PM UTC
You are my heart and upon it
I have etched my secret hopes for you:
My hope that you burn brightly, and long—
That your most heartfelt desires lash themselves
Upon the winds of passion
And that your heart’s love flows
Out of eyes and mouth to the tuneful ears
Of those who surround you.
That hope survives and blooms in the inclement weather
Of disappointment—
That you find and etch your secret desires
For your own child—
And that when I am gone,
That in a flowering corner of your soul
That you feel my love for you—
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
Oh, the white Sea-gull, the wild Sea-gull,
A joyful bird is he,
As he lies like a cradled thing at rest
In the arms of a sunny sea !
The little waves rock to and fro,
And the white Gull lies asleep,
As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide,
Goes merrily over the deep.
The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by,
And her people stand to note
How the Sea-gull sits on the rocking waves,
As if in an anchored boat.
The sea is fresh, the sea is fair,
And the sky calm overhead,
And the Sea-gull lies on the deep, deep sea,
Like a king in his royal bed !
Oh, the white Sea-gull, the bold Sea-gull,
A joyful bird is he,
Throned like a king, in calm repose
On the breast of the heaving sea !
The waves leap up, the wild wind blows,
And the Gulls together crowd,
And wheel about, and madly scream
To the deep sea roaring loud.
And let the sea roar ever so loud,
And the wind pipe ever so high,
With a wilder joy the bold Sea-gull
Sends forth a wilder cry.
For the Sea-gull, he is a daring bird,
And he loves with the storm to sail;
To ride in the strength of the billowy sea,
And to breast the driving gale !
The little boat, she is tossed about,
Like a sea-weed, to an fro;
The tall ship reels like a drunken man,
As the gusty tempests blow.
But the Sea-gull laughs at the fear of man,
And sails in a wild delight
On the torn-up breast of the night-black sea,
Like a foam cloud, calm and white.
The waves may rage and the winds may roar,
But he fears not wreck nor need;
For he rides the sea, in its stormy strength,
As a strong man rides his steed.
Oh, the white Sea-gull, the bold Sea-gull !
He makes on the shore his nest,
And he tries what the inland fields may be;
But he loveth the sea the best !
And away from land a thousand leagues,
He goes 'mid surging foam;
What matter to him is land or shore,
For the sea is his truest home !
Mary Howitt
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC
heart, beat you hard within this breast
to help me remember
the excitement of languorous ardor
the texture of bristle against neck
the slap of moisture in an arid land
heart, beat you hard within this breast
as flood meets heated desert
and life begins anew
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 5:12 PM UTC
Alone, I hold the shimmer of you
Between fingers splayed,
As they play the music of your name.
Alone, the moon washes away
The burden of distance
Within the numinous glow of the star-saturated night.
Trees, ripe with pendulous branches
Sway to the hum of temptation
And brush the waiting earth
With tremulous forethought.
And, so clothed in cloak of leaf and bark,
I turn to you
And sing the night alive.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:52 PM UTC
he was a burly man
maybe mid-forties
she was nineteen,
a little naïve
a little Lolitaish
she didn’t know him
nor him her
he wore his uniform
the cloak of power and authority
like a sheath on his *****
the only one he had today
her ******* chafed as her bra bit
jeans over tightly wrapped buttocks
she pulls the cord to stop the bus
it is her stop
two blocks from home
she gets up and turns
to face the door
he eyes her from behind
with vision hungry for a taste
just a taste
of what lies beneath
she is thinking about getting home
before she freezes
the door opens
she takes a step down
unaware
he gets up silently
and pushes her out
“that’s where you belong you *****
in the gutter.”
unexpected tears mingle
with rain in the mud.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
I look at you and wonder
Will we touch again?
Can we rush toward each other
In the foment of early morning or
In the stillness of midnight?
Desire-
Frozen in time,
Chilled by years,
Forgotten in the onslaught of life,
Lies fertile in me.
Gather me.
Wash me again in whispers that cascade
Like drops glistening on translucent skin,
That I may drink in the fullness of love made new
In a place that time forgot.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 6:04 PM UTC
How did it happen,
That I am privy to your heart
But you, not to mine?
The wishing of worlds long asleep
Will not change the damage done.
Sleep, my heart drowning in sorrow,
Like the soft rain
Which rolls in on a misty morning.
Catch my hope
Before it ripens into conscious thought
And furtively deposit seeds of tears
To replenish salted earth.
Scorched heart, you lie still
Heavy with the grief
Of unexpressed love
Which now must hide
Behind shuttered eyes.
My sorrow, unavailing.
You will not change
And I cannot bear it.
Copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
On the breath of sighs
I seek to be reborn into the warmth
Of love sated in the glimmer
Of whispers sweeping away the years.
On the breath of sighs
I touch the tenderest part of you,
Sheltered in a heart
Whose beats divide the onrush of worry
From the hand that moves within--
And hope that is enough.
In this breath, this momentary pause,
Can we make enough room
To find each other
Again
And again.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 7:07 PM UTC
Sit now.
Feel the mist of air surround you.
Touch the wind as it moves through you.
Stroke the door of your heart and feel.
You blind me with your loveliness-
This loveliness, so quiet and still,
so unannounced.
You have surprised my heart,
my heart so languid.
You held my heart and made me feel,
nestled against the shoulder of my grief
I have found your loveliness comforting.
Come now to me.
copyright/all rights reserved A. Howitt 2011
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
Summer, blowsy with spent heat,
leans eagerly against the first whispered winds of autumn.
Words of desire, of surrender culminate
as cooling begins.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 1:39 PM UTC
The tv blares
Its empty promises
Of laughter and easy ***
If I look like her
Will I get laid?
And for a moment,
My 55 year old body
Remembers what it was
To look like that.
The tv goes off and
I go read a book.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
Talented fool that I am,
I keep looking for myself
In the words that I write,
And I come up empty.
Copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
Penciled moments
Brief
Carved out of the time between
Ancillary shadows of forgotten emotions
Etched in the marks on the score before me
Rendered helpless
I am pinned by the eye of the composer.
Who decides what emotion creeps now beneath this line?
Conductor
Composer
Singer?
Disparate thoughts.
Where is the common ground?
Copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
By eaves, burdened by the weight of pendulous leaves
Dropped by spent trees
The pulse of sap
Stilled within them.
By branches curtseying and bending tunefully
In anticipation of the dance they are called to
By gossiping winds
unable to hold their chatter.
By sleeping dog, untroubled by arthritic knees
As she chases industrious squirrels
Whispering death to them in stifled barks
Pleasure outpouring the soft container of her dreams.
Autumn, her breath tinged with the gold of promised darkness,
Exhales gently across the waiting land
And dusk seeps
Through closed lids
To meet her lover
As night descends.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 8:35 PM UTC
Penitent weeper,
Why weep you on this dew-kissed morning
When life so justly fills every crevice.
Prostrate yourself not
Before the idols of man.
Man knows little enough
And of that,
Respects not
That which he cannot use easily
And without mercy.
Rather, dry your eyes
The better to clearly see
Stand, the better to be closer to the sun
and feel its light fill your face.
See the person who shines before you
and know who you are.
Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Placid countenance, your eyes fall
Upon my prostrate form.
Unchanging countenance-
Plaster and paint-
Assume the visage of holiness
Before my worthy soul
Worthy of comfort.
Affection given in unstinted measure
How you,
Plaster goddess
Serve the uncomforted.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
I like words with “B”s and “th”s
Like blither and blather
And hither and thither
Can I take “st”s and make them into “th”s?
Monster into mother
And
Twister into twisther?
How much softer and more polite
With much reduced spittle.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
your face
delivers its message
tears flow
between blunted dreams
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 8:27 PM UTC
“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to show when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair
-can ne'er come down again.”
~By Mary Howitt, 1829
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC