"riveted" poems
Wilson and Pilcer and Snack stood before the zoo elephant.
Wilson said, "What is its name? Is it from Asia or Africa? Who feeds
it? Is it a he or a she? How old is it? Do they have twins? How much does
it cost to feed? How much does it weigh? If it dies, how much will another
one cost? If it dies, what will they use the bones, the fat, and the hide
for? What use is it besides to look at?"
Pilcer didn't have any questions; he was murmering to himself, "It's
a house by itself, walls and windows, the ears came from tall cornfields,
by God; the architect of those legs was a workman, by God; he stands like
a bridge out across the deep water; the face is sad and the eyes are kind;
I know elephants are good to babies."
Snack looked up and down and at last said to himself, "He's a tough
son-of-a-gun outside and I'll bet he's got a strong heart, I'll bet he's
strong as a copper-riveted boiler inside."
They didn't put up any arguments.
They didn't throw anything in each other's faces.
Three men saw the elephant three ways
And let it go at that.
They didn't spoil a sunny Sunday afternoon;
"Sunday comes only once a week," they told each other.
15k
TRIGGER WARNING
They met at a dance recital.
His eerie blue eyes watched her, stalked her,
riveted by sinewy skin and the way her legs stretched and parted
skillfully, seductively: she knew how to captivate her audience.
They had mutual friends.
Her curiosity thirsted for more, for she had been taken
over by an empty lust, broken by another, but the way he spoke:
she felt as pretty as his charms sounded.
They went on a date.
He kissed her, pinched her, and spread those legs
that comprised his fantasies, not caring about the bruises he left
when he took off her lacey coverings, pinning her to the floor.
They learned more about each other.
She saw the empty, carnal look in his eyes, but her pleas
and shoves were not enough to lessen the weight of him, to push
his hands or his hips away, as he broke her over and over again.
They ended the night with a kiss.
He grabbed her face like a starving man grabs his first meal,
forcing an intimacy she could never get back, but he said,
“You liked it, didn’t you.”
They kept in touch.
She tried blocking his calls, his messages, asking her if she’d
come over to his place. Like the continuous force he prodded her with,
the pounding in her head beat out a thumping heart-line of no’s.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
What's your name?
Abubakar salim bin jahedee
sorry sir you will have to step back,
****** hypocrites,
how does my religion connect to terrorism,
I'm just a tourist in your territory,
no doubt,
my fellow brothers who dress like me,
act upon their anger due to ignorance,
and the quest for freedom ,peace& justice,
Just see,
What a curious coincides that is,
-but does that make me a terrorist?
Islam's a religion of peace,
yet they propagate islam with bad image,
Which is a huge damage,
Who's involved in horrendous crimes,
Who oppresses mere harmless civilians?
When we retaliate the world begins to hate and
start generalizing,
without realizing what conspired,
-does that make me a terrorist?
Its we muslims who suffer from terrorism,
all around the globe,
Terrorizing and vandalising isn't islam heritage,
Impressed and obsessed you are with your TV,
believing the twisted storys as it gets to you with
no atom of truth,
Corrupted by silly illusions,
Apportioning blame on hopeless islamist
seeking for peace,
Do you still think i'm a terrorist?
Develop some form of reservation when you
call us terrorists,
I need not to speak through my nose,
before you know islam is against all kinds of
injustice,
-How can I be a terrorist then?
Innocent muslims die everyday,
In the hands of american soldiers
yet we are never part of the mainstream news.
No one cares,
Take a soul of an american citizen,
Then the whole world will point at muslims as
terrorist,
how tragic,
-does that make me a terrorist?
As a Reflection & manifestation,
Of an expression to the element of truth,
My Quran says,
you with your religion & me with my religion,
-does that sound like words of a terrorist?
I dress in the most noblest of form,
Yet you criticize me while you breed monsters
in your country,
Man to woman, woman to man all in the name
of civilization,
All these leaves me spellbound,speechless &
riveted
In loneliness and seclusion,
Reflect over the word terrorism,
And you will see it has no connection with
islam,
i'm a muslim not a terrorist.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
MESSENGER
Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; then with thee
To fight, and either slaying near thee die,
Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,
Requite in kind his proper banishment.
Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods
Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,
With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.
A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,
With twofold blazon riveted thereon,
For there a woman leads, with sober mien,
A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;
Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--
'This man I will restore, and he shall hold
The city and his father's palace homes.'
Such the devices of the hostile chiefs.
'Tis for thyself to choose whom thou wilt send;
But never shalt thou blame my herald-words.
To guide the rudder of the State be thine!
ETEOCLES
O heaven-demented race of Oedipus,
My race, tear-fraught, detested of the gods!
Alas, our father's curses now bear fruit.
But it beseems not to lament or weep,
Lest lamentations sadder still be born.
For him, too truly Polyneikes named,--
What his device will work we soon shall know;
Whether his braggart words, with madness fraught,
Gold-blazoned on his shield, shall lead him back.
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Guided his deeds and thoughts, this might have been;
But neither when he fled the darksome womb,
Or in his childhood, or in youth's fair prime,
Or when the hair thick gathered on his chin,
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Nor in this outrage on his Fatherland
Deem I she now beside him deigns to stand.
For Justice would in sooth belie her name,
Did she with this all-daring man consort.
In these regards confiding will I go,
Myself will meet him. Who with better right?
Brother to brother, chieftain against chief,
Foeman to foe, I'll stand. Quick, bring my spear,
My greaves, and armor, bulwark against stones.
4.8k
Sitting in a restaurant
Over a cup of coffee
And silently having our dinner
With hardly anything exciting
Either to brag or blather
My eyes got hooked
On the occupants of the table, next
Two kids, seated on small chairs
A boy and a girl, obviously a pair of twins
Adorably cute, their father, so young
Who having placed the order
Were in wait for their turn
Carrying a tray, as the waiter arrived
With something of the plainest kind,
Small cartons of French fries,
Bottles of sauce and plain ice cream
The little faces gleamed in excitement
Their beaded eyes riveted,
And their heads bobbed in happy approval
As their Dad opened the carton
And placed before them
French fries sprinkled with some sauce
The children, sprang to their feet
With an upsurge of delight,
Jumping up and down,
Clapping their hands and shouting!
At a small distance, sat we
‘Solemnly’ consuming our meal
With nothing to titillate our palette
Or excite our toned nerves
I thought;
How, in course of time,
Everything becomes a routine ritual
And what stark difference
Between our subdued composure
And the overwhelming excitement of kids!
They haven’t learned yet
That such open expression of emotions,
Is not in keeping with accepted norms
To what peaks of joy, they get catapulted
With mere trifles and silly baubles
While we remain ever at the bottom
Unable to be lifted up
Is this what we call aging?
Or is it
The death of spring
The summer’s dirge
Autumn’s mellowing
Or the chill wave of winter’s blast??
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
The moon sways
down the sun’s half eye
for it every mo
is the elephant is in the room
before the sun zooms out
deep down from the pi.
Magic is uncracked within
that first light breaks out
dawns in the eternal night
is a shiny tear in the speechless
witness’ open eye,
on the tight lips, deep runner silent pi!
Men on the painstakingly polished circle
may have hewn out riveted eyes.
Up more is set free deep down the pi,
bottom in anew, in open paradise!
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 11:29 PM UTC
forgiveness for self is a thunderstorm ferocious,
cracking sounds so god awful fearful
that one questions his-her sanity,
an overage so unnatural that
only nature could create it
it is a moment momentousness
when the exhalation of exhaustion,
the winner and loser, both you,
surrender ne’er knowing
which you is which,
life’s son of ***** or just a plain jane mothering version,
either way you say to yourself got to
get past that lousy stinking
love affair
win the race to clean slate,
where the end is insight where everything replaced
in its used to be placed
goaded into melted nothingness,
goaded into believing that’s a real thing,
that when you finally get there,
enough is enough,
get out of jail ticket will work,
but it ain’t never free,
even if you paid for it in
what you call
throwing bad after good,
monopoly money,
nope, ain’t never free
no idea what to put in the second empty closet,
who needs an attached to-the-wall-tile
toothbrush holder with one extra emptying space,
where to hide picture albums in a space
outta sight, outta mind, you still can find
why you didn’t care enough to
daily mat-wipe street shoes before
riveted in place
before entering your own! apartment and no,
you are consciously unconscious immobilized by
the missing calling out of her “don’t forget”
in the car’s ashtray,
a red kissed blotted red lipstick
tissue that needs discard-action,
but you incapable of either,
those collected records and cd’s,
her teasing your old fashion ways,
reluctance to let go
so you read
“that to forgive one self doesn’t forgive forgetting”
and it hits home, home run, score to the core,
since you wrote those words on a sun rain afternoon,
a punctuating thunderstorm day
refusing to decide
which
haunts worse
<>
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
The rhythm of my heart
Beats with such musical intensity
Can you hear it?
So complicated the arrangement
Yet impressively expressive
To all who listen deeply
riveted by
the captivating elements
of LOVE
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Now for years I haven’t seen him
nor know if he is alive or dead
the shadowy man who floated like dream
each moonlight on the roof surfaced!
When from my window his silhouette I caught
saw him on his voyage embark
the moon stalker day’s small-time clerk
wove a magic spell on my thought!
As the moon came over the eastern edge
silver orbed in her glorious rebirth
he would be there lost in his gaze
like a moonman stuck on the earth!
Madly his eyes riveted on the sky
in pursuit of gain unknown
as if once unmoored to her he would fly
leaving this world disowned!
Hours passed by his wonder not ebbed
eased not the moon stalker's trance
it seemed to me moon's waning he grieved
mourned dimming of her silvery dance!
Each full moon saw this unfailing zeal
on the roof two lovers' meet
his eyes sky bound till he had his fill
the moonman on earthly transit!
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
A blank box.
The antistrophe of the only thought of your dwelling repeats.
Your riveted eyes
like silkscreens of my harsh summers continue to penetrate me,
they are imprinted to my seemingly abandoned, seemingly rotten consciousness.
I saw you reach the ledge
and then jump into the sea.
The sea sounds beautiful and is beautiful but also: The Sea
Down there your coastal effects
lay within the wave that pacifies
two legged sharks,
and the waters swallowed you
with voracious hunger.
Everything became withered,
the death cart arrived.
It came to take you to the great party of the longest night.
The beasts followed their pulse leading your way
to the black sun's of cosmo
giving way to perpetuity.
A blank box.
The antistrophe of the only thought of your dwelling repeats.
Only the sea witnessed you flight
and now you are The Sea.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
Howling wolves,
Calling unearthly creatures
Night bound to deathly horrors
Cold icy fingered wind, bites
Whistles down stone chimneys,
Inside amber flames flickering in the hearth,
Shadows dance across the wall,
Candle sputtering in the draught
Casting an eerie glow cross the page
The book being read, strange tales
Outside the wind surges, lashing
Rain against the leaden panes
A splinter of lightening flashes eerily
Warm and cosseted against the storm
The page is turned, the story continued
A single scratch at the window,
And a rattling of the latch
Heavy door squeaks open,
On old heavy hinges
Fingers slowly slide round
Gripping the doors edge
Skin grey, taught against bones
Hooded face slowly revealing
It’s secret from beyond
The Reader’s eyes riveted
On this unfolding chapter
Spine chilling flicker of recognition
Of his own face beneath the cowl
The book drops …
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
the little tree
took root from
an acorn nut.
the years passed,
she watched the loggers
come and go.
taking her friends
and family off
on the big beds
of the timber trucks.
year after year,
season after season,
there she stood,
winter, fall, spring, and summer,
one slow grow.
first she was short,
barely a spurt,
then she branched out,
and up and up and up.
the trees stood
all around her,
so serious,
oh so silent company.
however,
never a mean word nor
loud shout was ever heard.
never any other music
but for that of the birds,
and the wind and the sun
and
the creatures walking the
woodland floor,
those traveling through to
far distant exotic lands.
at least she never heard
“girl, you are some fat tree.”
or was the target of any joke,
“when you sit around the house,
you sit AROUND the house.”
nor any
“you gotta do something with them leaves,
they are looking like a rat’s nest.
Oh i see, it IS a squirrel’s nest.”
or for a stray bump or large hideous growth
no one ever said,
“you better go get that removed,
that's one ugly lump!"
years and years passed,
her soul inside,
couldn’t be heard,
not a word.
then one day,
the fellows came through,
looking and measuring,
measuring and looking,
out came the chainsaw.
eyes alighting on she,
on all of her
tall, majestic beauty.
with swift, quick work
she fell,
down,
to the earth.
loaded on the flatbed,
chains wrapped securely around,
engine roared to life,
and she took off,
racing into the darkening night.
she knew tears did fall
as forests thinned
and were laid bare,
but all she could think,
all she could say,
was
“so long suckers!
i’ll see you on broadway one day!”
and so it became true,
her dream of yore,
it was finally in,
Radio City Music Hall,
she landed as the floor.
night after night
to her lasting delight
tap dancers tapped
making her sing
bringing out the music
in she
so previously
imprisoned inside,
for so long.
sanded and polished
varnished and cleaned,
her secret inner beauty
finally brought to life,
finally brought into the light.
she beamed and sighed,
every time a new star
stepped on to her,
to her extreme delight.
any day or night,
when every eye of
the house,
every one of the audience
was riveted on she.
oh what a thrill
when the Radio City Rockettes
did finally come out,
for only for she
could they dance
so straight,
so evenly.
Sometimes i look
at the woods laid bare.
my heart drops low
so sad i feel,
a tear spills out.
then i recall,
the tale of this tree,
the little acorn nut,
how a trip to
a city,
made her so
lastingly
happy &
so very
pretty!
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Mounted in Ulster Mausoleum
you greet me with your rotted smile,
with oaken bones splinted into pose
with cloven feet riveted to the floor.
To the side your cratered eyes
that tunnel down to your cage
that watches of how we feed,
that recognises skin, fur and hair.
that will keep to see,
waves crash on mountain peaks
and we, holding hands in barren fields
and no one finding fossils in the mud.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
~~~
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
~~~
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my merry mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
~~~
used to drink inspiration
from Manhattan sidewalk rain riveted cracks,
turn half overheard street conversation snatches
into half decent poems by Nat(chez),
professors turning phrases, upbringing a brain ratcheting,
choreographers, dancing in body and spirit and word,
in summation, a thief of opportunity...
these days, the pattern prevailing,
the El Niño de Natalino,
is drawing up works
from the wealth of messages and comments,
my troubadours, my y'all youse guys, share,
so as I compose,
not knowing where this goes,
I'm just simple knowing,
that a heartfelt reach out,
addressed as
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
deserves the recognition of its sweet intent,
in a lyric all its own,
like a traditional festival
Hanukkah jelly donut (true1)
t'is the seasonal affectation of salutations
all commencing with happy,
never struck me as anything deeper
than surficial superficial,
but this time its textual emendation -
the inclusion of genuine brotherly love,
loops, Humpty Dumpty cracks and swoops,
and here I am fastening word combos,
when the clickty clack of the clock
says uh-uh, poem in the making,
natural verbal child birthing, sleep hours docked,
and here I am,
begetting instead of shushing
a day-older brain to get-thee-to-a-hideaway...
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
sooner than later it will be the Fourth,
and in my eyes a day-deserving of a fireworks spectacular,
though the month matters not,
the sentiments of brotherhood and live love,
independent and freely given,
deserves enhanced ignition recognition
and herein supplied...
you had me at the greeting so fleeting,
then ask my advice,
is there to be had a greater compliment,
so my mien and demeanor are now modified
an oath sworn, till the infamous 31st,
every passerby and child
will be bequeathed a shockingly rowdy,
Happy and Merry,
sincerity coated
and tinged with you know what...
~~~
Dec. 3, 2015
nyc
11:12 pm
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
I am drawn to you like
The stars to the midnight skies
The Earth to the burning sun
Water to thirsting flowers
I am comfortable with you like
An old pair of boots
A faded pair of jeans
My favorite sweater and scarf
I am at peace with you like
Sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake
Taking a walk in silence in the country
Listening to rain drops fall in the dark of night
I am alive with you
Like the laughter that is uncontrollable
The heart that goes thump, thump, thump
Running through wildflowers in the wilderness
Every ounce of my being
Mind, body and soul are riveted by you
I am alive with you, free with you,
comfortable with you I love you
Heather Mirassou
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 8:51 AM UTC
Have you ever wished upon a leaf?
Never ending, never breathing
Never stopping, never ceasing
Whistles and whispers
Red leaves are picked up off the road
The cracked, riveted, chipped road
Made of asphalt and ice
Wiry and spindly
The leaf soars through the air,
Joined by sunset orange and
sunrise yellow counterparts..
Have you ever wished upon a leaf?
Leaf piles bigger than bushes and mounds
Causing laughter abound and high spirits
Getting everywhere, getting damp
Rains pouring with a melancholy force
Petrichor rising from the ground
Filling every orifice with the smell
Have you ever wished upon a leaf?
A last wish, a final wish
Of love, of hope
Of happiness, of success
A meaningful wish, a last-ditch wish
That maybe, in the end, everything
will be okay?
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
As pure as a dew drop on a rose petal
though colored like a bird of paradise
as soft as the *** of a newborn
but tough as nails of another mettle
such is the charm of my new friend
As light as a fleet footed furry fox
but boy! She fights like an enraged ox
As cute as a hovering hummingbird
though wizened like wrinkled old grandpops
such a pretty picture is my new friend
As disarming as a tub full of puppy pugs
though she swears more than a grimy ****
As lovely as a lily in full bloom
Yet scarred by the world's inner gloom
Such a darling is my new friend
With her eyes riveted to the stars
armed with love, and a smile
she fights a million wars
for the minds of the world's rank and file
to set them free, let them see
the light in her eyes, what makes her come alive.
Such a treasure is my friend
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
I waited, seated behind the arched letters of the cafe window,
riveted by others who moved urgently, soundlessly, beyond
the thick glass, scurrying along glistening sidewalks,
winding between glaring headlamps in the slick night
to lovers, to friends, to family, to home.
I remember no words, only the sting of hot coffee,
a hurried gulp to stanch the welling pain and to quiet
the certain quiver of my voice if left to speak.
Yet once into the dampness, standing together for a last time
in the crystalline night, the balance is seared into hard memory
as I watched you lift a speck from my collar,
grooming me, as before, and then a smile, wistful,
and you rose on tiptoes to brush a wisp of hair from
my brow and silently, hood now raised in the misting
dark, you found the sharp corner of the red brick
building and vanished.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 2:34 PM UTC
always in the fog, the klaxon sounded,
announcing another round of shelling
Tuck was terrified, for he
thought this was a hound
from hell, and it was
telling London to head
to the underworld--dank cellars
or shelters built for survival,
or mass burial
depending on where Gerry's
bombs decided to land
the lasses knew well the drill:
grab their favorite doll and say a
prayer,
going
down
the
stairs
Mum would grab Tuck--his shivering body
not soothed by her warm embrace
for when the hounds stopped their menacing moan
deeper doomed demons would begin their call;
the beast sensed this, and he had no god
to beg for salvation
he could only feel the rumbling of the ground
and not close his ears to the sound, which riveted
stakes through his bones
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
pool swirling deep
surface still
beguiling
glimpsed from afar
caution warned
but you came
aeons spoke true
our hands shook
you held on
time stood still
even breath
paused
seconds stretched
vibrating
eternity
stunned we stood
uncaring for talk
riveted
others filled space
with putty chatter
while we stayed locked
silent cerebral synergy
magnetic dance
exceeding
all thought
numbed in
mindless joy
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
A simple love life
Opportune love
Presence everywhere
One chooses to be aware
Awake and aware of truth personified
Happy with nothing left to lose
Beauty follows grace
Everything changes
How depends on
Face to face
Whisper
Love will not be contained
To hell with the moon
We glow
Before or after transforms
Here now in paradise
Create universes
Of infinite passions place
Each-others
Infinite
Embrace
Simultaneously
Synchronizing-hearts to beat as one
Divine straight true pure
Cuts bleeding
Right
Through
America's
Heartland ironic eh
Fear our matchless glory
Please perhaps maybe space to love
Lovers thinking about moving
Gratefully happy to reflect now
Believing cute twists of hope hot sultry silly
Buttery-silky-soft sticky kisses for real
Checks hearts pulsating limitless too late
Love is ready in all ways here today
Be relieved late again
Coy shy dreadful
Sweats
Joy why
So few
Regrets
Joy has found
A simple love
Buttery silky soft
Coy inky **** you & me
Crafting love-life-peace
Show is over go home to simple love
More love over love under again repeatedly unscripted
Coming back for more shocked *** dripping & jaw dropping
Focused and riveted rocketing peculiar passions with pure presence
Terrestrial love **** beautiful eyes style points grace
Throne of blushing stallion champion of abundance giving patience to naughty time to play savor Every mentionable edible
Enjoying fine fresh refined tempered real touched up and down love move it all around for real Even still hear
Sacred silence
Convert no one will ever know
Vegas style passion love over flowing
Powerfully connected heart wrenching censor ships to shore
Love confidently drooling dreaming imagining magical wet mystical
dripping warm sea foam breezes Touch intent
Lips tongues mesh definitely overdue done
Multiple heart-beats resonate as more than one
Mushy in your face grace
Presenting happiness fun presence
Sexy-very-sexy fate is alive
One chooses 2 to awake to 3 awareness
Awake and aware of freedom truth
Love love love is within the eyes of the wise
To amuse a muse loose
To a simple love life.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
In the crowd I saw someone
All in a haze, so filmy
Nothing did I see clearly
But a pair of love lit eyes
Riveted on me
My heart skipped a beat
Did my face grow pale?
Or got colored by a blush?
I lowered my eyes
And looked away
But I saw him advancing
Coming straight to me
My heart began to race
My breath got hitched
My lips went dry and parched
I didn’t hear what he asked
Words got stuck in my throat
When they came
They came out broken and raspy
I felt as if struck
By congenital paralysis
Unable to move my ****** muscles
Either to utter a word
Or curve my lips into a smile!
Felt butterflies in my stomach
A tremor took over my hands and legs
Beads of sweat appeared on my brow
My mind went blank
The world came to a sudden halt
Forgot where I was
I got frozen in time
Not knowing the futility of adolescent yearning
For long, I juggled with his unspoken words
“I L….O….V…..E you!
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
.
In a cavern long about the edge of time
dwells a sadness deep upon my heart,
where fragments of my imagination
cry out from a desolate vault,
iron clad and riveted
of a stone mason’s might
Welded shut, encrusted with fear
and loneliness in unsealed envelopes
addressed to someone other than me
Where neighbors retrieve and process,
regardless of names and stamped signatures,
unwilling to pay the postage now due
of an encased memory shoveled
away to linger on each crow’s feather
that falls from the reaches far above my head,
dropping square tears from round eyes,
mapping my cheeks
in solitary traces of vertical weeping
Self imposed some may say,
and they could be correct, though
when it comes to forgotten, that heart of gold,
worth more than its weight in life,
pays more attention to the fate of others
than collecting breaths of this or any
next door, across the fence wisdom
For if they hurt, those who shouldn’t,
then what is the use
With heavy stone in hand I tap,
loudly on the reinforced tarnished structure
in a series of dots and dashes,
rhythmic chaos to some,
but patterned to the beat of my heart
saying, you are loved, you are cherished,
you are needed and most importantly,
you are not alone, hoping the chanting echoes
land upon listening ears,
and you can smile once more
and I can feel it
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC