"laving" poems
The lighthouse keeper and his son, one day
Were out on the rocks, by a blue-water bay
As the sea, their bare feet was laving,
They saw a mermaid, they first thought was bathing;
With long dark hair and eyes of green;
Like the mist of a loch, that sings.
She was struggling and sick, in the foamy sea
So they took her to the lighthouse, above the lea.
She begged and pleaded, to die in the sea;
But there in the lighthouse, she seemed fated to be.
A clawfoot bathtub became her home,
And there she stayed, never to roam.
Some children taught her some words and rhymes.
To help her to pass all the weary time.
The lighthouse keeper thought she was his own,
Though from the sea, she was merely loaned.
Sometimes a midnight, would find him there
Combing her damp and tangled hair.
In her long confinement, he was the one
Kept her sane, since she could not run.
They had long discussions until daybreak,
Entirely by looks and gestures they'd make;
She taught him secrets no man had ever heard;
How she could still the sea, with inaudible word
And how she could tell by the look of the moon
If spring would come early, or winter too soon.
And how the waves, did murmur below
If the weather be rough, or the hard winds blow.
How she'd loved and lost one merman that
Had gotten too close, to a fisherman's net.
They'd had a child, by the madman's reef;
Was eaten by sharks, and how they'd grieved.
He fancied that someday, he'd like a kiss,
For kissing a mermaid, seemed like rare bliss
But something forebade him, to come that near;
So he was content, just stroking her hair.
One day he found her, dead in her tub;
Her heart had broken, all for his love.
No mermaid can tell human men of her heart,
Or else they'll spend their lives far apart,
It's a law of the sea, older than time;
So this be the end, of the mermaid rhyme.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:04 AM UTC
The hunger is back
She remembers now.
Knows the difference between deprivation and hunger.
He pulled out her teeth one by one.
How quiet she had been despite the pain
The tears gliding her cheeks and jaw
He asked but took what he wanted regardless of her words
His necklace of teeth chattering in her face,
Whispering to her to push him away, to fight.
It’s only afterwards he reveals that the teeth are of other women.
No, her teeth will find no place on that thread he tells her,
but placed in his pocket where no one will see.
Touching her gums she finds pockets
Open sores oozing pain and the flavor of iron,
But when he tried to take her tongue next
She wrenched away, his necklace chittering in envy.
He smothered her with his body, fingers scrabbling in her mouth
as she whimpered and writhed
Bit his fingers with what she had left
Firm enough to discourage but not to draw blood in return.
Her new teeth are ridged like a child’s
Odd to feel the return of them.
How she hungers again
For true love and affection
Never again does she want to hear the click of teeth on a chain.
She wants to feel the nip of a lover on her skin, tongue laving the bruises she wants
A need to mark and be marked
Share the joy of consuming.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
I search my scattered brain
To find the devil
That crawls inside of me,
Each time I see your eyes
This creature of my habits
Wraps itself around my eyes,
Laving me blinder than any of these three mice
That scavenge for food
In the humid swamps of self esteem.
I scare myself.
Why do i keeping seeing this walls
With thick black oils,
Making everything feel colder,
wrapping around my future,
I couldn't see through it
Until I forced my hand
And set my world on fire.
All of the ashes have been swept way
Leaving this frost around the amusement park
Of my sad sad heart
Wishing that the only smile
To shine through the crowds
Would not pass me by.
Yet the light draws itself away,
Leaving me with an empty view.
Watching life pass me by
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
I am perceived as being
strong
confident
unbowed by the winds
that besiege me from
every direction.
Yet branches in
my mind are buffeted
by fears of inadequacy.
Nobody sees my tears,
or feels my pain
as the roots which hold me
weaken under stress.
I fear judgement from my peers,
so I hide.
What truly exists inside
gets painted with
an opaque veneer,
a disguise made up of
words, smiles and laughter.
I try reach out,
offering a glimpse into
my tortured soul...
fear draws me back,
back to the shame I feel,
to the disappointment I have created.
Failure is mine.
You tried to help,
crawling to me, your own tears
laving my feet...
I pushed you away
out of despair.
I pray
for a gentle breeze
to caress me,
but the answer comes
in a gale.
And knocks me
off my feet.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Always summer here
Heater broke down
Day and night,
Bitting air put the warmth out
Cold feet every morning
A year and counting
Tormenting early bright
Dreadful laving
Violet palms, skinny body
Unknown curse
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
She was laving her insides with gin the night I met her.
She told me she had bullets embedded in her skin which sounded insane, but I still swore I could see them.
That night she only effused about ***
and gin
and her eyes were blue
and I wanted to drown,
to dwell in the sea beneath her eyelids.
She was untruthful.
She said she would be candid with my foreign face,
but all of my words drew tears from the sea I loved to laud.
We were very tired.
I swear she must have cleaned her wounds with ***** a thousand times that night before I could tend to them myself.
I know she was very tired.
Her eyes still blue, still stormy, made my throat close up.
I wanted to be more copious with my words.
To tell her that I wanted to be her gin
her ****
her everything in between,
but I couldn’t,
for she was the beauty I couldn’t grasp with my words but with my heart,
a heart that wouldn’t rightly align with hers.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
I still cannot erase you
I keep thinking about you
I really miss you
I cannot sleep at all at night
The sound of raindrops hitting against the window against my heart
The place that you left, I really miss you too and I can't sleep at all at night
The view of your back, laving me to this rainy road because I couldn't do anything again
I regret it everyday, I'm sorry
I want you to be back
I cannot stand another day without you
My tears are falling again
Will I be able to forget you?
I keep thinking of you at night, I can't sleep
Why did I turn on this love show?
The distance between you and I has increased
I was servant of this love
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Imagine an overused sickroom,
an army hospital in a war zone:
the reek of sulfur and saltpeter overpowering sweet rotting meat,
a periodic shocking light of casual bombardment
reveals brass colored walls.
And, and, and ...
the noises—too many to catalogue
or differentiate.
A fever feels better,
opening a dream flower—
transfiguration follows death, we know this,
now. We know colors, liquid figures
so familiar somehow.
Isn't dying a familiar act?
The nurse laving ice water
on my puckered brow should excite me
(bedraggled, blood-smudged,
her hair loose, lips slightly parted
from fatigue or an indisguisible loathing for decay).
Think: in this given moment
five billion people are doing something else.
Even those also dying are dying in a different way
without ice water.
"Quel dommage," you'd say, Liesl,
making the bed of a morning. "What're the rich folks doing?"
The sun hot and blinding through the east windows
The room so white, the sheets green, your brown eyes
never averted
aromas of grass, exhaust, drying ***
where is it all?
where does it go?
what brings it here
this polluted room
this anti place
this hole where a stomach used to be
resides a memory of a stomach
recalling hunger
as a good thing to be assuaged with pleasure
Nurse, close your mouth before your soul escapes
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
"your flow is off; they have you beat!" Boarish cough let, the ref's presumed seed. Righteous in rhythm reels the ref in, why can time be so timid, is that a sin?
I really don't know, colors are so - surefire, concept's core dire. Bound to flow is hollow, found a collar to follow?
Full of paint, the same words faint. The rhythm dies, as their cries. Atop that flop, they will stop. "leave me as is, leave me alone! I am happy like this." - snappy, a drone.
Climb the ladder from nether, whatever the weather. Clear the skies, drop disguise. Be rigidly real, heart strings of steel.
How does this flow?
Laving the first row,
A lamenting show.
En fin, a lavish yo
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 5:22 PM UTC