"sheers" poems
.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Walk with me n be my Friend:
fending oFF thee awful Qualm,
calming all the thoughts of Death.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Talk to me if no one Else.
"tell me what to do aGain?...
...death is gonna Haunchew."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall,
Waltzing in my ball of Hair;
share the Yarn of all you Bear,
spare the Rod n chop the Sheers.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
"Welcome to the slums of Hell."
help me Speak in bleeding Tongue.
"vi la Vita......vi de Vel".
Mirror Mirror on the Wall:
wall of Talking thought so Clear;
hear the Fall of waldo's Water,
thrall the Call of ocean Odlaw.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call my Bluff n cuff my Arms,
bar my Cell n sell my Soul,
sow the Seed n reap its Rose.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
flaunt my Card n guard the Door.
Youre the one im steering Clear of...
..."ofCourse you are."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all i Know is no ones Lost,
mossy Oak is all i Know,
frozen Walls i call my Home.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are ish ards of Glass;
lashing Out n always Laughing,
laughing as you watch me Ball.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Do is use my Tears.
here you Are with all the Cotton,
swabbing all my flaws n Fears.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call me what you always Do:
stupid Queer n weird n Ugly."dont
******* Tell me what to Do."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
talk the way you always Have:
Chanting like a ******* Trucker,
Cussing like a ******* Sailor.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Hollow be my only Name.
satan stole my only Halo:
angel of a broken Cross.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Follow me n see my View.
you should see what i have Saw...
...all ive seen is You.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are is all i Am.
have you not a ******* Conscience?...
..."obviously Not."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
walk a long this haunted Path.
after That if you can Laugh...
...so can I.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all youve Done is run n Hide.
'and Then...
...tyler was Gone.
was iaSleep?...
...had i Slept?'
- Jack's Medulla Oblongata
.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Split mind. Split soul. Half of him loves his family. His intelligent daughter, energetic son, and beautiful wife. The other half loves nothing at all. Not himself, not his immorality, not even the toxins that he constantly ejects into his body. A modern day Jekyll and Hyde. To have a split personality is no easy taking. How does one love a single being with two men trapped inside. Knowing you will only be thought about with half the effort. Only known half of the time. Only loved with half the heart. Knowing this could drive a woman equally as crazy. While his careless half went out for another night of binge drinking and fornication, she was left at home. Well honestly, doing the same. One day it all became to much. In one of her drunken rants she grabs a pair off kitchen sheers. "Honey, where are you going?" she asked, not haven made up her mind on her next step. "Who the hell are you?" He replied. In a fit of drunken rage she charges after him. Determined that she could sheer away his lesser half. She screamed. He ran. She followed. Cornered, he had no where to flee. He snapped back. "Baby, what are you doing with the scissors?" , he asked frightened. He saw the look in her eyes. She was no longer there. The rage and fury had taken over her. "Babe, put the scissors down." He pleaded. She didn't understand what he was asking. Whether she couldn't comprehend that it was her husband back in control of his body, or if she just didn't care anymore, fed up with it all, no one knows. She lunged at him with the sheers in hand. When the officer arrived they saw the women curled in the corner smiling. "Did it work? Is he my husband again?" The mans body was mutilated. His skull was open. Half his brain was gone. His chest was open as well. Only half a heart. The women was taken away, convinced she did it all out of love. The children were placed in foster care. Both scarred for life from the events that they witnessed. And the man, well let's just say his partying days are over as well. Half hearted love kills.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, don't hide it---we miss them:|
me being a runaway flying in the black hinges
soaring in the twinkling skies
I crave you as a hungry wolf that knows no boarders of freedom
in there in the shady street
as I dive into my vulnerability you sense my need
you sense my desperation
its like you read my locked lines
among the flowers of the highs
in the publicity of tamed crimes
you have me
running on rage
screaming on blades
the cake comes and you appear none
lying down
hating the crowds
the bargaining weight of these suicidal sounds
where are you???
nowhere to be found
leave me in yells when the time ends and dwells
this is a first in a hell
do you intend to choke me to death again???
it is me who you pressed undamned on your wided chest
and carried it all away in a mild stance
when no one dares
to a slightest bare of your cans or cares
don't forget me still not lying
still breathe for your touch
and your essence on that spot
just tell me where
and my heart will voluntarily beware
to be awaiting a hold of torments in the bliss of fair
when you mindlessly gear
affording to disappear
a night changes its shades into a million gleams
you seem to draw on my warm sheers
------ravenfeels
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
A quicksand cyclones downward at the center,
A spiraling hole spun around by the sands that enter,
They scratch at the innards of my heart,
Pulling everything down and ripping it apart,
I’ve tossed so many things at it,
But they just drop into this endless pit,
Nothing seems to fill it up,
Instead everything just gets ****** up,
It’s like having my flesh sliced by scattered grains,
Spun at high velocity as it sheers against my veins,
Carving out tiny wounds accumulate into scars,
Blood seeping, lost and disappearing with its cause,
Cries are ****** up and then dispersed,
Scattered into pieces until it’s no longer heard,
Screams are silenced by a ringing vacuum,
Run through bleeding veins buried in my womb,
It’s like something wants to come up,
Like a volcano that’s ready to erupt,
Everything that’s been sunk and saturated full,
It’s getting ready to finally burst my soul,
I didn’t want to shut it all up,
It wasn’t my choice to have it all ****** up,
I tried so hard to pull it out with my strength,
But I underestimated the length of my pain,
It’s been loaded and treated with all its vice,
So I don’t know how to clean it up nice,
I think my exterior is too thick for it to ever explode,
But I think that one day, I am going to implode.
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 12:56 AM UTC
She holds these butterfly dreams
these dragonfly visions
always before her eyes
to materialize
The longed for want that within abides
the tear that cannot hide,
this deliverance of love
that flutters within her heart as a dove
longing the expression, the want
To fly high the fields of hope
Where she can cope
with the uncertainties, the fears
that within her at times sheers
her world apart to the doubt
Of all that she does want.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 20, 2011
Mar 20, 2011 at 6:13 AM UTC
The clock was bound to strike midnight
This I already knew.
But I lost track of time,
And I stayed searching for my shoe.
It's like I was playing tug of war with a cowboy
I just really didn't have a chance.
I might as well have been doing the tango,
During a western square dance.
As soon as I tried to walk away,
The cowboy was up in arms.
He lassoed the rope around my waist,
And I heard the shrill of alarms.
Yet I still let him reel me in,
Like a fish caught in a net
I laid all my chips down and out,
Knowing I was loosing the bet.
I joined his game freely,
With my whole army down.
I had no back up at all.
A shopaholic out on the town.
And now I'm all torn up
Cause he's done and had his way.
And with a tip of his hat,
This cowboy's said good day.
He's ridden off into the sunset
And I've watched him disappear.
And I'm the cut up fragments of an unwanted ****
That the gardener tore up with his sheers.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 5:14 PM UTC
Satin-textured shamrock flower,
whose eyes chrome the seas
of the faded cushioned theatre seats,
with their sparkling, piercing power--
You,
saunter sprightly up and down,
lyrical laughter over-bounds,
in quick-timing
to the taste
of your Irish school-girl ways.
We take time enough to see,
those livid, lush-red cheeks,
*(ripe, rose-blushed every time
as you savour sweet the wine)*
that sanctifies
your softly senses,
sans pretenses,
whereon your wings of
wonder float and fly.
Scented, tactile spirit-showers,
all the joy we need,
as the stage-light's haunting beam,
Sheers the magic of this hour--
You,
lightly lift us off the ground,
set us oh, so softly down
upon those rhyming wisps of air
that caress your auburn hair.
Now, I, a poor poet,
upon this paper
play
pleasing poetics of your praise,
whilst the ink upon these lines,
dries far faster than the tears
falling
from my wistful, yearning eyes
in exaltation of
your Wings of Wonder Ways.
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 2:20 AM UTC
Something must make you happy;
something must make you sad.
Humans cannot simply be.
Events construct emotions.
Right?
Something must be wrong with her-
An extra something, making her disturbed.
Removing that will fix her, yes?
An extra foot of hair- watch it fall from silver sheers;
an extra twenty pounds- watch as each disappears;
an extra pint of blood- feel it evaporate with old fears.
With everything wrong now gone there is no sorrow.
Sadness is not replaced with joy,
it's not replaced at all.
The hollow void must be filled somehow.
Something must be wrong with her-
A missing something, making her incomplete.
Adding that will fix her up, yes?
One more earring- a small silver pin;
One more scar- a memory on her skin;
One more boy- feel him feel her in sin.
Addition and subtraction won't make a person whole,
but it's too late now for her to walk away.
She's started a complex equation
and will never see the solution defined.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Just My Job
I chop off hands, I chop off feet,
I'm the kind of guy, you don't wanna meet.
I chop off legs, I chop off arms,
if you wanna help, I'll take turns.
I chop off ***** I chop off *****
I freeze the parts with ice cubes.
I gouge out eyes, I chop off ears,
don't worry I use sanitized sharp sheers.
I cut out your kidneys, I cut out your liver,
Cannibals pay me good to deliver.
I chop off your ***** I cut out your heart,
then put them all in a shopping cart.
You may ask yourself why cannibals,
because they eat humans, like we eat mammals.
I peel off your skin, then chop off your head,
they eat your skin with some mayo and bread.
The payment plan is very well,
if it wasn't, I would never sell.
Times are tough in this recession,
please don't get the wrong impression.
This has become my career and passion,
sorry that I show no mercy or compassion.
I lure people into my home,
started with a salesman selling chrome.
Jehovah Witnesses are easy victims,
I guess you can say I have serial killer symptoms.
I sell the blood to all the hungry vampires,
if you could only read my secret diaries.
If anyone you know is considered missing,
it's because of me going fishing.
Cannibals give me a people list,
I'm doing Gods work with a twist.
Ten years and going strong,
I guess, what I'm doing is wrong.
People please don't judge what I do,
or my next victim, could be you.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
An after midnight wolf
lives as a sheep by day,
amongst opposites
he sees through
sheep’s clothing
and moralizes through
insecurities,
though inaccurate,
accusations man
a marionette,
a wolf in sheep’s clothing
can manipulate but
is easy to forgive,
an after midnight wolf
can ruin his sheepskin,
and have follicles run dry,
alcohol and anger
and selfish malevolence
over compassion, thought and
apathetic benevolence,
the sun can divide strong from weak,
an after midnight wolf lashes
and drinks
and lashes,
regrets and lacks morals
yet lacks intent
only listens to his mind
and not his heart,
he sheers himself
with broken bottles
and it takes a while
to grow back
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
Stuck in a rut
of fear.
Guck, through I cut,
now clear.
Shuck, here's a nut;
no beer.
Pluck until ****
then jeer.
Struck at the glut.
New sheers
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 6:52 AM UTC
Eyeball god in mouth
Ostara?…Dio?…Luna? …
Is light as hunger for colors?
Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings
shameful man with ***** **** — sighing ***
in his heart — a crack, deep and wide!
Black Hole!
Punk rock for a Black Hole!
Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood!
Like a ***** universe all of our pornographic desires
moments of starving stars and **** stars!
An eyeless god living in a glass tube with hearts
like hot flashes in heat-blasted rooms!
Pulsing pimples — swirling while a midnight sky
brings forth a cacophony of cosmic screams!
More impassioned raw-animal! More barking!
more vibrations — more imminence!
More sinewy limbs on show — ***** I’m looking at —
lifeless grey body but voracious pink face!
It licks and whimpers, suckles and *****
Shall I become a statue again? — glazed face with eyes
sheers-white in precession of Venus?
Hey! Taint! Milk it!
:: 11.12. 2020 ::
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 12:23 AM UTC
a ruddy thrush of experience
artifacts your chest
opal sheers of lineage
marred by remains
of precise and careful
additions to a calcium
body
accented by a
lightning storm quicksilver
river
coursing across neck
and chest
a mark to guide
breaths of life into you
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
Wet skies
Grey dawn
Blankets the coast.
Black rocks
Sea foam
Triggers the most
Atlantic applause,
An encore to those
Just hearty enough
To make a life on The Rock.
And to answer the call,
Between stone cracks,
Moss roots,
And squalls,
A garden was planted
Where nothing
Had grown
Before.
Before...
Before the Gardener came
The coast was a love-lettered painting,
A bouquet to the sun,
Orange, red, and yellow flattery
Through living imitation.
"Seek ye first the kingdom of God,"
Said the sign
On the gate
At the edge of St Johns.
"But I think I've finally found it,"
Said the man
Creeping silent
With his too sharp sheers
Cutting flowers
Uninvited. -
- Everyone's front lawn
A memory
Of what united
Them for two score years.
****** hands dropping pedals on his way to the shore,
"Don't worry," said the man,
"I don't want to come back,
With any luck," he said again,
"I think this should be enough."
As he placed in the arrangement
A note that read,
"Je suis
Désolé.
Bitte fragen Sie nicht
Für mehr."
100 years ago, July 1st, 1916, the entire Newfoundland and Labrador regiment was killed at Beaumont-Hamel, during the Battle of the Somme in World War I. Of 780, only 68 reported for roll-call the next day.
After 40 some years of having no military of their own, they had mustered up a unit of volunteers to support the war effort. 90% of them never made it through their first engagement.
Canada Day isn't just about celebrating.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
Roses have thorns for a reason.
If they were all beauty with out defense
Those hard, sharp edges
Extending from their stems
They would be easily plucked and clipped
Taken advantage of.
They would be used
For some hideous centerpiece
That would be adored for a few hours
Than ignored for weeks
Until the water turned black
Leaves rotted and decayed
The petals dry out and fall
Leaving bare stem remains.
Leave me in my garden
Where I am surrounded by friends
The daffodils, lilies, white chrysanthemums.
The hard working bees
Could make delicious honey
From my sweet nectar
That would be taken to the hive
And served to the Queen.
The words I speak
Are my thorns
Verbal warnings
That I am not to be reckoned with.
Release your the sheers
Remove your greedy hands
Grab me like that again
My thorns will make you bleed
You will be sorry.
Truthfully speaking,
You will never be a rose.
Even if you tried
You would result as a ****
A blight, a disease
Pulled from the ground immediately.
You are a hideous creature.
A monster.
Without you
I am stronger.
I am not a dandelion anymore
Easily destroyed
From a meager blow.
Let me alone
I am a Rose.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
I work too much to think,
I think too much to work.
one minute I'm playing games,
trying hard to stay sane,
and then at my face I stare,
trying to fix my hair.
funny how time flies,
when you're doing twenty things at once,
I'm not the other guys,
it's been way to many month.
it's funny isn't it?
you try hard to keep your mental,
but your mental is detrimental to potential to have potential.
I despise the way you cry in the rain to hide the pain, when you try to hide the tears, and shelter all your fears, it's been way too many years, so you change it with the sheers, one hair at a time, counting down all of the crimes that happened to your life as you're reaching for the knife, screaming on the inside, but my words you don't abide when I'm trying.
I'm just trying.
****** I'm trying.
I'm trying.
I walk away in a silent vision of all things that are violent.
changing the description of faults, you default back into the shell as if it were your fault, but it's none but their own from what the records show.
And I try to make you see that inside my eyes you'll see a soul that's ment to be the reason that you breathe. but my words you don't abide, but I'm trying.
I'm just trying.
I can see, that you're trying.
I'm trying.
Delirious to the mysterious succession of the furious fears that settled in to the demons that are near to us and thus we make them dear to us.
my friend you are just missing out on what your life could be all about. a future that you surely doubt but realise that you're finally out. so wipe away the salted wounds that only you can see and despite all of the water you have to let yourself breathe because you're free. but my words you don't abide but I'm trying.
I'm just trying,
she not special but you're trying.
In the end do you love? or perhaps it was lust? or perhaps it was a must, for you to claim your trust. that you lost from your past? as a child you didn't last very long in a fight internally ignited by the crazed human beings that you said you wanted to show you your affection? instead of dereliction of a fantasy of perfection? and I read all of your sections and my words you don't abide even though I try.
and man, I am trying.
stop fighting it and try.
I'm just trying.
Albeit that you must realize who I am. I'm ashamed of what I was, I'm ashamed of what I became. I could never hide my sin, and I never could fit in, no matter friend or kin. so I hide the voice within trying to tell me to let them in. but what you know is just the skin. and you see.
the skin sheds.
as it dies, it tries to hide.
and me? I'm just trying.
so a hermit I will become.
because all I do is try.
and for now.
I'm done trying.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
He wakes every morning
To stare into the mirror
And wonder when his face
Turned like elephant skin;
For all his mind recalls
Is a memory of a laughing girl
Who pulled the ribbons from her hair,
Until one day she stole his sheers
To carpet the floor
With black raven wings,
All because she longed to drink
From the basket of life,
But in his animal-instinct weakness
He cut the cord
From the source
To her lips.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Where her preponderance takes over rainbows will overtaketh thy dark cloud, the phantism of her queen screen projection is for all to daydream of!!! What a riddle shell leave you upon thy emptied tray, her mysticism and mystification can leave a bruise upon thy name!!! An atlas of lost time, shell pursue to all oceanic depths, a mall thief of unbelief, she just could pile all thou has left!!!! An intensive heart throb to maximum proportions, she will jeer you to distortion if thouest forget her special occasions!!!
How lovely is thy own grass when it withers? Still leaving behind sheers of myrtle grove? She will dissavow your heated warm loathe.... Discerning one, disclose me all the way, where is thy key to ones disorderly dungeon? The embellishment to all real estate!!!!
One whom I can fascinate and rellish to mine and hers own doings!!!!!!!
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
He didn't like the flowers
that sprouted beneath my collarbone.
He hated the red oak
and the fruit that I'd grown.
So I plucked every petal,
brought sheers to my throat
No longer my haven,
I was a garden of smoke.
Now he holds my wilted pieces
with a face of disgust
and decides an empty garden
is just too much fuss.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
Mother Nature,
green-thumbed,
with eyes of purpose,
with floor length gowns,
went about her morning gardening.
Singing to her crops of we,
the skin of her feet tracing mountains and reefs,
granting rain to the thirst farmer patch,
her scent driving men to humility.
Lungs filled sharp as she winced her eyes,
at the sight of blood she grit her teeth.
The urban thorns were growing now
and choking blossoms of unity.
Remnants of her song now ghost,
the sky grew dark as she approached.
She snipped, with hurricane-force sheers,
and trimmed Louisiana's coast.
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
Watch movies about daughters who killed their fathers,
you are obsessed with paintings that are crude words written in children’s crayons,
and your wife exhausts you,
you can’t stand how
her shoes match her gardening sheers,
your house is intentionally or unintentionally patriotic
red doors, blue shutters, white vinyl,
hey I’m successfully sedated,
it’s so much easier this way,
I don't even have to drink scotch to fall asleep by 10,
"at least I don't have to pay women to **** me,"
I was proud of you for that one,
everyone tells you "I’m one of the good ones,"
chairs set in an illuminati triangle around the dinner table,
you ask your daughter how school was, she says
"spectacular," the poison trailing from her mouth to
the carpet to your loafers,
cameras everywhere,
through the window,
through the drapes
your wife is on a dinner date with your boss,
your wife is in a motel with your boss,
your wife just wanted to **** a powerful man for once,
you sell me **** in your garage,
my dad sent me to an institution but I fall in love so easily,
I watch your daughter in a shadow on the lawn at 11pm,
I convince your daughter not to **** you,
convince her to run away instead,
hours of film of small private lives,
the glare from the window pane
not enough to obscure how embarrassing people are,
but I love you for this,
the best footage being
inanimate objects dancing in the wind,
it’s proof I think of forces in the world
we don’t recognize at first til we feel them,
then we can’t stop recognizing them,
then we can’t stop trying to get them back,
then we spend our whole lives in pursuit,
of that evasive silent lightning strike,
moments before a kiss from a beautiful sad girl,
how it hurt a very specific part of our chests,
but like in a good way;
like in the best way possible.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
I’m
Picking you
Picking you
Picking you out
And
Bleeding you, bleeding you, bleeding you dry with
The
Sharp sheers of my too clever coffee-lipstick-stained
Lord
And the garden variety scorn you Rose-hipped hipsters
Said
Your rosy glasses and tinted cheeks proclaimed, and:
I’m
Casting you
Casting you
Casting you out
The
Immortal, infallible garden of meaningful
Man
And his poetry-stained bedsheets and love bites
Has
Taken to candle lit vigil nights and too tall pedestals, has
Become
More or less himself, of himself, for himself, for nothing, really,
One
With smug sadness and the proud self-aware death
Of
Self-proclaimed martyrdom sold to
Us
Twenty-five percent off at Walmart.
I’m
Taking you
Taking you
Taking you down
To
My level, (game over, hit restart)
Know
That you were always player two and
Good
Intentions are nothing more than fancy dress
And
On your sleeve sit a collection of hearts,
Evil,
They pave the way to hell.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
Flakes of mica and diamonds
Scattered on the cold, grey floor
Reflecting the faces of yesteryears
And people forgotten
Rotten memories eaten at the core
Histories erased, scorched and burned
By our own fires at heart and word
Sheers for cutting crystal
And teeth for devouring silver
Bending the True Gold with its lips
And justifying pyrite and iron
For what did change
That living truths would become deceased to the worldly
That poisoned deceit come of value to the trade and less to traitors?
For who did slide his alluring hiss to
Manipulate and falsify
The common thought?
Insight from the outside
Forced but widely accepted
Did bind what smooth tongued statements
Then blinded to what has been bound
Add that desire has been labeled “the sacred emotion”
Love has been fired down
And showered by water like William Blake’s
To grow a new love
Secret identity: Lust
But for its shaded reality must mean
A hero
A tolerant, but unloving hero
Or heroine
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 11:46 AM UTC
.
Whispering apricot beams shine upon frilly sheers,
lazy shadows dance in daffodil dawn colours,
pirouettes of pleasured moments,
silently flowing on smooth brush stroke walls
You breathe, softly, the sweetest sonnet,
rhythmically exhaling beneath satin sheets
symphonic…bringing a grin to the sunrise,
blushing clouds hide behind a bashful horizon
Placing a gentle kiss upon rose petal shoulders,
you stir ever so slightly…eyes flutter, chiffon wings
hugging the pillow wistfully, floating within,
cascading between dreams of us
Exploring the mesmerizing curves of your body,
my lips touch warm porcelain skin,
the faintest sigh escapes, a smile appears
as your wispy fingers seek my own
A purr escapes, whispered desires sooth,
tranquil thighs twitch as they part slightly,
the sweetest scent tempts me, awash in dewdrop bliss,
glistening beads of summer rain memories
Probing gentle folds, serene recesses of silken slivers
sipping the morns perfect elixir, ambrosia,
seeing your eyes wide open now
and falling once more deeply into their hypnotic beauty
Maple sugar cravings, slippery pearlescent glimmers,
tasting your flavors as methodical moans sift dawns hush,
drippings linger my lips…nectarous indulgence,
essence of honeysuckle breezes
*Hands ****** my hair, wavy lengths, grasping*
tickling heated embraces, melting into the morning
reaching beneath arching form…pulling nearer, closer
quilted comfort massages
Sunshine illumines the room with sparkled effervescence,
writhing deep into the blue sky destinations,
azure visions of springtime promises kept
and green grass wanderings
I rise with you, fall with you…with this perfect time,
mirroring movements in reflective crescendos, rapidly,
as your voice sings my name, feathered pillow melodies,
ending in an ovation in hummingbird quivers
And you collapse, tethered breaths, tiny giggles
pulling the sheets tight to your chin playfully
I peer up, cinnamon eyes gleam, twinkle
rejoicing as brand new day begins…in love
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.
Just lately, just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
Mammy
A breeze furled the window sheers.
The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:
Brigid...........Nellie
I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.
Jun 3, 2023
Jun 3, 2023 at 6:06 PM UTC