"moonrises" poems
With you, I felt
the moonrises on my skin,
the lingering of the stars
in between our bodies,
with you I felt the rivers
washing away all this blood,
I heard the trees
speaking softly,
I heard the tiptoe of your kisses,
you always knew where to plant them,
I heard the songs
hidden in silence, our deep breathing.
With you
nothing made sense.
With you
it all fit perfectly.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
I met the man by chance on that riverside town.
The only one around at the deserted strand
I asked him the shortest way out
after I had my fill of the river.
He told me about the fish market
where the fresh catches arrive every morn
and the place ten minutes farther north
where if I slowed down
could catch the magnificent spectacle
of the orange orb thirstily dipping in the river
and if I stayed back for the night
would surely go insane
when the moon sets the river on silver fire
but if I was really intent on leaving
a half hour's drive would get me the highway.
I was thinking of the amazing mathematical probability
of my traveling over three hours to see the river
and his traveling ten minutes on a bicycle
to fetch his son from school on that riverside town
for our once-a-lifetime meeting on the life's highway
and then having him a permanent visitor in my memory
at sunsets and moonrises over the river.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 11:24 AM UTC
The mold you breathe in
Grabs your roots and invades your curtains
But you are still here
And though your mind wanders miles
Unraveling
Your body it trembles with unseen
Genius smiles
The gaps in your teeth scream
For truth
In their finger curls
You've got it
And it glows
Humming patiently
In those hollow recesses of your
Self-contempt
Begging those shallow breaths
To deepen and unfurl
Where hopeful racing heartbeats
**** the dark and empty coves
Licked by moonrises
And soothed by the tides
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
oh!
ohhh thank you,
thank you great body,
great god! s~h-e's got my soul
embodied in earthflesh earthflesh
grown from warm soil sacred soilflesh
and redriver lifeblood's lifemud is flowing!
flowing through treelike neural pathways
dendritically branching
branching out into my
starflesh vessel
and there's no sense
in wrestlin' with myself!
My vessel vessel is
embraced worldwide
from the inside
from the inside with mycelium!
Mycelium!!
and I am a mushroom!
I am a spore!
I'm a planet!
I'm a particle! and
I'm pumping away like
waves crashing on a shoreline! and
I'm breathing inward turnaround
outward turnaround chillin'!
maxin', waxin' and wanin'!
pushin' and
pullin' it through my sails
as I sing sweet songs of sunfalls
and moonrises floating and falling
over the horizon like a
crescendo-decrescendo and
I've got roots!
I've got roots that stretch
to the ocean floor and I've got
a thousand pound ethereal steel toe boots
and I am Drinking in the ocean and
I am drinking in heaven's Reflection.
I close my eyes to see and
I remember to breathe! to
breathe slow and I can see!
I can see the keys as
buzzing bees in the leaves
of the trees dancing with great breeze
oh great breeze!
sway swing sway sing
sing a song singsong, please!
breathe it with ease,
breathe it with eeease!
mmm
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
I used to write dark poetry.
Poetry about sadness. Conflicting Powers, and Dark Moonrises.
The word dripped from my pen, the ink as black and bleak as the thoughts that gripped my conscious mind.
My unconscious mind was worse. Filled with midnight horrors and darkness, I worried it might consume me.
And it did, for a time.
It was bad. I was bad.
Now, though, I have you. You saved me. I could see the bottom, I was riding the endless spiral into the ground and before my head split, you saved me.
Now I write happy poetry. I write for the beautiful things.
I write of the most beautiful thing.
I write for you. Everything that I do, I do it all for you
I owe you my life. I can never repay you. And so, I write.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
sitting with stars,
we sip on silences —
between soft sighs,
twinkling eyes, and
pleasant pitter-patterings —
we drip kindness,
rain drops, and
endless moonrises
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
The days can raise colorless
Born among mysterious everybodies,
The Sad Ones carry shreds of darkness
With them tangled in the fringes
Of their lives.
They cannot drag another down,
They give happiness where
None can be taken,
They can illuminate
The saddest people and take
Their pain like an offering.
They walk among the souls
With silent faces and drowsy
Existence.
The Sad Ones
Disperse into the Winters' depths
Where winter honors grey days
And starless nights.
From their secrets or pains
Come a gathered endurance
And can illuminate with
A wisdom of regret and sorrow,
Like colored plumes of dark flora
They roam spinkled among
The masses to bring the bright side
Of things they know nothing of.
They have wings,
The Sad Ones do,
Gentle but firm wings gilded
In murmured words never spoken,
Winds of the lovers never taken,
Watching moonrises
Over sighing waves.
Their home is a lonely peak
Where clouds sit on mountains
And forever remain,
There they reflect on the sadness
Of most kisses and symbolic love.
And they are forgotten when
The people encounter them,
Though misery loves
A little company, the others do not
Stay in the dark.
The Sad Ones,
They are dreams forgotten,
A smile returning,
The bring about the light for others
In their dark lonesome hearts,
They are hidden away like memory,
And they keep other smiling
As they sigh above the moonlit waves
Sighing in the darkness.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC