"reconstructs" poems
I fell in love twice the first time.
First pinching myself assuring the initial first.
The initial first I realized how silent love was.
Seeing all but hearing nothing.
This was my first kiss.
Coming into contact with a quiver my lips
have never before felt.
Falling in love twice.
Certain that I am uncertain of nothing.
Learning to speak a new language.
Lips poked out.
Exposed to foreign land.
Overlooking my feet.
My ship never before having sailed.
Day turned to night.
My heart stead fast.
Crashing against the ripple of tides.
The experience of something new,
Tides pulled by the hull of rubber soles.
Our arms like anchors.
Our feet hesitant, losing all feeling of finding ground.
Our tongue the cargo set to provide entry
into things no longer forbidden.
Night reconstructs day.
The initial first of two times I fell in love.
Eyes closed.
Our breath becoming more shallow,
Passing through the canal of each others mouths.
Overlooking the side of my nose against hers.
An anchor dropped.
Chain link after chain link, plunged deep
Far from the shore of everything I knew.
My shoes soaked.
The pavement with every reason to worry.
Forever fractured.
This anchor falling faster and faster.
Without worry of kink
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
If ever a time should pass
Where coincidence reconstructs fate
I would long for a dyadic destiny
With that woman of serenity
I love the look in her eyes
When she looks in the eyes of God
I see such distance in her glares
Yet they draw me in so near
Every joy I've ever known
Reflected in her daze
Every pain I've ever felt
Erased within her gaze
I look at her, as she looks at God
She sees what He has shown
Anything He has ever made
Means everything to her:
Every cloud in the sky, a dream
Every clover found, a wish
Every gust of wind, a guide
Every sound of nature, a call
Every storm of night, a showcase
Every blink of the eye, a masterpiece
All the while, she's lost in time
And I'm lost in her eyes
The simplest grin rests on her face
Yet it overwhelms me to see it shown
And when I tell her she is beautiful
She bashfully concedes
Outside, so passive and sweet
Inside, so strong and deep
Even so, so tender, is she
One misguided word could fold her
Never the cause of another's harm
Always ready to right a wrong
So gentle must I be
With such a pure gift from God
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
Im convinced, that the most powerful force on earth is Love.
Love. I fell in love with life.
Given the opportunity to open my eyes to a sunrise across a white sandy beach. Beaming rays rising, lifting my heart from the ache that devoured it these last few years. Love. I fell in love with the rain that fell upon my face as I danced with a stranger in the streets at nightfall..washing away the age I carried after my last heartbreak. Love. I fell in love with laughter as I allowed myself to wholeheartedly laugh from the belly and simply let go..being fully present with the smiles surrounding me and falling into the freedom of acceptance..
Love. I fell in Love with God again... as I soaked up all of the beauty that surrounded me...feeling the fabrication of each of these moments.."meant to prosper and not harm"
As I let go of the guilt of life's stumbling blocks.
Love. There's simply nothing..like authentic, genuine, pure, honest, real, absolute love.
It Heals, holds, lifts and reconstructs the heart, instills hope in the hopeless, fills the gaps where life's afflictions wear deep, and creates a warm invite of compassionate approval and a kindness so generous...it literally revives the Soul
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
She's wanting *** with sinners.
She wants it now.
The devil is an angel and she's a ***** cow.
The angel, she's dressed in black and white in techni-colour dreams.
In giving *** she reconstructs, their deep darkest hour.
The power, that power that she's giving feeds their security, no lies.
Picks up their sorry moments and chucks them at back stormy skies.
They're riding on the hormones in wild moments captured, as they bump and grind.
A little piece of wild *** it sure doth soothe the broken mind.
Cathartic release, as poetry she is to me!
(c) Livvi
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
She opened her heart with
too much force.
She gripped it with fingers from both hands
ripping it apart
revealing
too many fragments of her soul.
They spilled out with
too much momentum and ended up
sprawled out
on the floor.
Will he notice the precious fractals of
her sweet spirit
crushed and broken on the ground?
Will he step over them?
On them?
Or sweep them under the rug?
Does he see the masterpiece that just
destroyed herself from being
too daring
too close to the edge?
She has
too little patience
to leave it up to him
what to do with the wreckage displayed.
She carefully picks up each piece
mindful of the sharp edges and new angels.
She borrows sap from her favorite Pine.
Blends it with gold dust powder
borrowed from ancestral strength
stored in her spine.
Applying this sturdy paste
she meticulously reconstructs
the segments of her discarded gift
into an alchemized transformation.
A Kinstsugi treasure with a new reservoir
inviting the love she has for herself
which can never be
too much.
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 2:59 PM UTC
Just One More Anomaly*
Memory, how is it working?
Reconstructing what it will,
No matter how one wills it.
Using tricks or keeping still,
It goes downhill sulking, lurking,
Modifying all the while.
Date, event - assumed, imagined;
Recipe for roasted chicken, how and what the vitamin,
Where one laid the just used pen;
Truths about what might have been:
One is not amused or gladdened!
One reads histamine boosts memory.
Where to start: ear, nose or eye?
The husband tells a story,
But the story and the history refashion
Into joke or smoke, or expectation.
An honest man, he reconstructs time’s long bygone.
What and is there a solution?
How to boost the falsifying, garbled brain,
Train away the stigma and enigma?
Food: The marvel is the good it does, in spite
Of junk consumed both day and night,
Those lovely cells of memory;
Losing neurons constantly.
Interests, hobbies:
Training. learning, instrument…
Any bent, life but experiment;
Each callisthenic ‘heaven sent’.
A poem one way to speak,
Renewing bits new and archaic;
One in which a syllable will stick,
Inspired to get a kick out of the rhythmic lyric
Born in life.
Just One More Anomaly 5.29.2020 (formerly Another Autobiographical Anomaly 2.11.2019/Recomposed 5.29.2020) Pure Nakedness II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin
*Anomaly: oddity, peculiarity, abnormality, irregularity, inconsistency, incongruity, deviation, aberration, quirk, freak, exception, departure, divergence, variation; rarity, eccentricity.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 2:15 PM UTC