"jived" poems
*The world where I stood was a desert
thirsty for a pint of rain;
longing for a kiss that never came.*
Not until you did.
Everything started with a droplet of your essence,
Out of nowhere. Unexpected.
YOU... yes you MANIFESTED.
*Without notice, you took me by surprise.
A beautiful surprise I say.
For the first time in a while I felt,
my worries washed away by your presence.
Hot sand turned mud where then I lay.
In those moments I lost,
all anxieties brought by drought.
When through the years I thought
I'd never touch the rain I ought
to ardently pray for every night.
Imbued I was with your* "love".
clothes soaked. body wet. soul drunk.
*your name the promise I mutter through the drizzle.
This body jived to the beat of a million sizzle.
Moments passed faster than it seemed.
I, taken away by lust of a parched soul.*
I slurped. I gulped. I glugged.
*as much as I could, never thinking of
what I would drink in the latter.
When the land runs dry;
when then again,* I'm deprived of water.
*So then, what caught me by surprise,
left without a word... woah,* SURPRISE!
everything turned back the way it was;
an arid heart in a blink of an eye.
*But what makes me wonder is this delusive sense,
of your cooling touch amidst this false pretense;*
I smell–
*Your scent stick to my chest like perfume odour.
My nostrils clogged with the aroma of your neck.
A waft that distorts the senses of this* consumed man.
Thoughts of you linger long after you are gone...
Like the fragrance of rain that stays after the downpour.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Honestly, I don't know what you're on about.
I watch your mouth move as though in a race.
I hear the words, nod an assent or two,
Then work out how to arrange my face.
Sixteen years on, I can bet my life
It's any of issues one to five
Perhaps disguised as new and bold
But countless times we've jived this jive.
It's either mother/sister/father in law
You don't spend enough time with me
I washed up last, it's your turn now
Money just doesn't grow on trees.
That's four, oh wait and last not least
It's the cherry atop our well known list:
Are you happy in our life right now,
If I was gone of sudden would I be missed?
Interrupted of course by the offspring two
Never a chance to talk about
The things that make us fight and kiss
Talking in code that's fraught with doubt.
Your voice sinks further from my conscious realm
Where the blurry words blur and blur some more
And somehow we arrive at this day's end
As a melody stuck on a repeating score.
I crawl to bed a respectful time after you
Touch your arm, cold, betrayed by sheet
I encircle your chest as it fills and droops
The familiar curve of your back I meet.
I know not what all of this is finally about
And that 'morrow brings with it new words ablur
The only thing I know is about you, my love
Without you I would not want tomorrow to occur.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
*upon being invited to add to a collection here called Brokenness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He he
** **
Ha ha
it has been awhile
that I recv'd an invitation
to add to anything
or join a club,
just like Groucho (Marx)
worth being invited to...
but when yours arrived,
I chuckled and jived,
for this broken biz
be an area of expertise,
about which I gladly can opine,
since most of which I contact,
is inevitably in that state demised,
marriage, children and other trifles
so to the topic at hand, let say but this,
if not eloquently, then perhaps,
gravely, for that is where the
broken pieces oft call home
or cemetarily. a final resting place...
perhaps you were unaware,
there are 449 poems in attendance,
where the word brokenness
doth appear
in this sanctuary of broken children
and adults too,
easy discovered in the memory of
Hello Poetry
but this will not be, I hope, the
four hundred and fiftieth
as I decided to nomenclature this oeuvre
as Brokeness, with but a single N,
since a good N
can be hard to find,
why use two
when one will do?
if a faithful ecrivant thee be,
you won't be shocked that there are
so many Brokenness in this world,
the dictionary doth recognize its multiplicity
as a word legit, accepting as a plurality*
brokennesses!
which is a whole lot of broke
so let us poets to the process repair,
with a tikkun here, a tikkun there,
a tikkun everywhere
so that the healing never ends
and that someday we will delete
all words of humanity in disrepair,
let the broken be the unbroken,
and let's all say amen
and get started...
Ogdiddynash
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
She is my sanctuary.
She throws her flowers down the drain.
Soon we shall be home again.
Dancing together in the morning rain.
Merlot, sweet Merlot,
Take your fill again.
Closer together than ever more,
For never more be free.
To ride the crazy gravy train,
Once before and now again.
Merlot, sweet Merlot,
Take your fill again.
We jived in days of fifty five,
None of us were stood alive,
As strawberry Mondays, we jazzed about.
Tuesdays of cherries, full and ripe.
Wednesdays of banana split dreams.
where everything is great, not as it seems.
We sail on drunken dreams.
The sun flies overhead.
We are on our way home, standing room only,
We are never alone.
Merlot, sweet Merlot,
Take it when you get your chance,
Then take your fill again.
(C) Livvi
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
The spoon's side jumped
Between moon shaped glasses,
He jip jived dipped and dived
Forward more toward something resembling music.
A fresh song and dance.
New tunes through an ordinary water holder,
Nestled between plate and napkin.
The sound got his mate all jazzed up,
So he joined with his own swift swinging tune.
Who knew that dining things could own a beat?
They found a new way to show
They had a rhythm from their fingers to their toes.
It was them together.
Hearing things they thought they would never.
So they skedaddled downtown
Piddle paddling through the streets.
Clanking their feet into light poles until their soles were sore.
Smacking hands on drums where knees used to be.
They threw nonsensical sounds around that made sense together,
They flowed like a bird’s song to its dear old Mrs.
Common sounds with a unique meaning.
They were loud and crazy with a vision slightly hazy,
For they didn't see the sheriff approaching.
The sheriff caused a bigger scene then they ever were,
Yelling and wrestling with them.
He stopped their show saying, "There ain't none of those nonsense words on my street, especially not from your kind."
How kind they were,
They left without a question.
There was no need to fuss and rush
They were goin'.
They thought that with sounds like these
There was no use wasting them on empty streets
And park benches.
Back to the club they ran
Eager to hear their cheering fans they had left behind to show the streets their new found sound.
That stage is where it started
And stayed for a while.
On that stage their imaginations could run ramped on an empty canvas of ears.
But on their stage they had to stay.
Hidden.
For a little while,
You see the streets weren't ready to be shown these beats,
This wasn't Joe Schmos show put on every Thursday afternoon near the salad bar,
Quiet enough not to disturb the guests but just enough to give a nice background noise to their chewing,
Oh no, no, no.
This was jazz.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
I fell apart at the mentioning of your name in rotation above and below the humdrum that jived around you. I smile just long enough for the song to end and my body to stop responding.
I held it together long enough to see through the music and fell apart at the after party. I imagined your name in blinking flourescent lights and shuddered at the images my mind conjured up of you, a constant spinning wheel.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
It does not hurt.
Not anymore.
It's been half a year since that incident.
It's been half a year since my kokoro was scythed.
It's been half a year.
It's been half a year.
I smiled.
Jived.
Laugh.
Socialized.
I did my best to remain composed especially when you were close
'Coz the pain I felt was too real
and I'm still stuck spinning back Time's reel.
Despite my inability to comprehend it,
I did what I can to face it.
The pits were deep and dark and seemed endless.
My days were dull and seemed changeless.
But now that the storm has passed,
I'm trying to face its aftermath.
Contrary to the bilateral friendship agreement,
I'm feeling the pact's 180 degree turn.
O, glory be that pain
Coz of it wisdom I gained.
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 1:23 AM UTC