"rebalanced" poems
“The twinkle in my eye”
She says
The twinkle in my eye?
He stripped of passion.
He stripped of feeling.
Such words sang from a freshly cut melon.
Smiling up at me
Eyes glistening from fascination
Chest glistening from the essence
Of a coconut (and a small amount of saliva)
Curves of unfathomable length
Lips of explored (and unexplored) depths
Luscious locks of the moonless sky
Leave me lavished with listless languish
For just a moment
But my breath returns
My energy rebalanced
Spirit re
Invigorated
Satine
Sweet Satine
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
There’s been so much bad luck
Blowing in the gales of life,
The sails of my happiness are
Tattered and won’t hold the wind.
Life has long been such a heavy load
My little boat is listing
And it needs to be rebalanced.
I have stores of ballast, so
My little craft won’t sink.
My twisted fingers still can hold
A needle to mend the spinnaker.
The tiller isn’t broken and
The rudder still steers true.
I can see the distant shore
And the tide is lifting me.
Soon I will make landfall and be safe
ljm
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
When the tears won’t come
At the greatest depth of our sadness
When we feel so hopeless
We couldn’t fathom any space below
And yet a great pulling in our chests
Haunts us with the knowing that still
There are fathoms to be pulled
Within these sensations the dry eyes of
Sorrowed desperate beings hold
A wealth of insight regarding the
Machinations of an essential process
Hidden beyond the reaches of
Empathetic yet requited hearts
Lost to the imaginations of those
Embedded in the arms of belonging
When the tears won’t come
It’s because the bottom of a deep well
Has been pulled away impossibly
And where there was no space to give
A great void is rendered into being
Within fragile beings made desperate
In the wake of an impossible suction
Pulling into existence a hollow space
That we birth and give the name of Loneliness
Loneliness does not cry but asks to be filled
And the fragile beings now made
Sorrowed desperate parents give
Their unconditional love to the child
We fill Loneliness with belonging
With love no matter the source
And the bottom to a well is rebuilt
Of brittle sinews and hollow bones
The pressure rebalanced one might cry
For tears need a harrowing and
Strange balance to gift us relief
Or the tears may still withhold their gifts
Haunted by reminders of desperation
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 8:27 PM UTC
Here I sit...
Stuck in self
Life presents roads and thought follows
Yet no choice is made.
Inanimate until that day...
When waiting reveals to be a choice
That day control seems frail.
A choice is a cycle of endless dispute
Like a wound left to fester,
Time adds difficulty of treatment
And the body suffers.
Like pitting scales balanced
By the weights of desires and information.
Days add to the weight of the hanging poles.
A choices is made
By asurity in momentary self,
But as motions shift
The wound is reopened,
The scale is rebalanced,
Under new desires.
Here I sit...
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC