"marlow" poems
Every summer when I was a kid,
I learned a new way of whispering to the trees.
In my backyard, there was an apple tree
I named him Marlow.
His tall shadows would swallow the grass whole and consume the clouds,
His wooden teeth biting into the innocent knees and elbows
Of those who underestimated his strength.
Marlow had grown with giants, his roots flat and strong like ancient coffee tables,
And I am confounded.
I reached for his belly only to feel the warmth of the Sun,
Basking in its glory,
the purity of the grass littered with gum wrappers and popsicle sticks.
The kids across the street never took the time to say hi to Marlow,
they felt more suitable with their irises glued to their black boxes in their black living rooms.
I'd lean my body onto the trunk of Marlow, as his roots would tell me stories,
Stories of how my Tarzan belly flops would leave Indian burns on my kneecaps.
My bones became soft and compacted like Italian yogurt,
I was immortal before I could finish grade school.
We spoke incomprehensably to each other,
As if we were fearful of what was being said by those kids
But I never cared, and neither did he.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
He told me to say what comes to mind. So, I sat back and thought for a second. Then I started to talk. I started going and flowing and spinning this spoken jam like a DJ packed with style and fire but the words were still cool in my throat like menthol. I could taste them on my lips, they were smooth as they slid together and I sealed each phrase with a kiss. Each word brought to me this surreal sensation like when you sing for the moment, when you sing of the delirious beauty of a laugh or a friend or the shine of someone in love.
It was you that came to mind. You that made my words soar as you make my heart pound and my mouth smile and my soul grow and grow until my body couldn’t possibly hold it anymore. I had to let it out, through my fingers and my toes and through these words, these words that are still bursting from my tongue, heavy enough that I feel them crunching on my vocal chords. I spoke fast about you and I still felt the tingle in my bones, but as my voice droned on the words turned sour on my tongue, they left a bad taste in the back of my throat. I didn’t notice though, I only noticed how my skin felt like it could melt off my bones at the sight of your smile that was hot as the sun. The words run past my teeth, not letting themselves linger inside my cheeks long enough to recognize that taste. I spoke as I sat in that chair, wringing my hands and wondering if this was really the right thing to do.
I haven’t seen you, and it’ll be a while till I do. This time I feel the bittersweet taste coating my tongue and pulling on my mind like a child trying to get mom’s attention. I’ll just ignore it though, because the thought of you still burns that light inside my soul, the one you said you saw that night in February on Marlow Street. It’s June already, and a realization tries to hide behind my eyes, but I know that as long as I keep speaking my mind, I’ll talk about you till the day I die.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
You sometimes have to believe
not to be frightened any more
for what is rejection
when you love what you are
Touch me for I live still
a Mozart in the making
I wonder if Marlow thought the same
before murdered, what a shame
I gave up caring about myself, years ago
and what I write is the way I go
where is my life
for all I am is poetry
You sometimes have to believe
and I need to believe
for what is life
without my love of poetry
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
You loved her in the womb,
Until you saw her face,
Then you decided she was an ugly baby,
You loved the story until you saw the person,
Then you decided you don’t believe them,
Because of their Race.
You wanted them teaching your children,
Until you saw their sexuality,
Their appearance their beliefs their eyes.
You loved them until you saw who they love
And how they choose who and how to love,
Then you decided they weren’t worth hearing.
You decided that they Are crazy.
You decided that they belong in a box,
Because we know “how to deal with people like them
How to fix people like them”.
But what you don’t do is listen.
You are so quick to change your opinion,
When you judge with your eyes.
You are so quick to tell call them worthless,
And to say, “YOU’RE FIRED”,
For believing something you didn’t.
You are so quick to ostracize them, to hate them,
To say that something is wrong with them.
Because you judge with your Eyes,
And forgot your heart.
Copyright Ashley Marlow ©
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 10:23 PM UTC