"sia" poems
Dearest Destined Jewel,
Of longest heartfelt yearning, Bestow on thee, Hamlet awaits, Ophelia picking flowers, Magnolia branches speaking, Beautifications of Spring.
Supreme buds of new life, Magnoliaceae of Queen bees, An enterprise of wonder, Symbolic child's enchanted play, Faeries in flight whisper attractions, Fondness, Les fleurs du mal.
Ample blossoms, Bosoms of delight, Devouring light, Little birds sing, Nestling, Chirping a languishing cacophony, Blissful unawareness, Nature nurture the soul.
A slip then fall, Nearby church bells distract, Into abyss fallen, Elevated body all at once, Floating amidst flora, Drowning, Petticoat woven dress, Resting on fresh valley water, Immersion, No contention, Hamlet awaits.
© Sia Jane
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Paalam sa munting kinang sa kanto ng iyong mga mata. Sa unang alab ng huling araw magpapaalam ang bihag ng tanikala. Walang humpay ang daluyong ng mga ala-ala.
Salamat sa unang halik at iyong natatanging labi. Mula sa una at sa huli. Ito na ang huling paalam. Papadayon din ang araw, bukas o sa makalawa, o hindi kahit kailan.
Walang luha o sugat na lalatay sa iyong balat. Hindi kailangang manatili sa ala-ala nating dalawa. Mula dito at sa mga susunod na araw, buwan, at taon.
Para sa ating dalawa ang paalam na ito. Hindi na kailangan magkubli sa anino ng masaya at masalimuot na nakaraan. Ito ang ating hudyat, ang ating kidlat mula kay bathala.
Para sa muling pagkinang ng iyong mga mata. Sa ala-ala ng buwan at ng mga bituin. Sia lahat ng bagay na nagpangiti sa iyong puso at labi. Paalam aking dagat, aking asul na langit.
Minamahal kita.
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
I'm made of all;
The books I've ever read
Poems I've ever written
Faces who have smiled at me
Hugs that have wrapped around me
Caresses that have graced my inner thigh
Countries & continents my feet have touched
The lovers as we simultaneously reach ecstasy within
Lonely nights shedding tear drops
Nights gazing black skies moon & stars
Children falling asleep to my heartbeat
Animals whose soul was found through reflective eye stares
Conversations spoken in French, Spanish, Italian, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Norwegian, German
Years of ****** cognitive-, dialectical-, art-, drama-, music-, mindfulness-, trauma-, psychiatry-; therapies
The drinks & drugs & mind altering substances dispersing my mind
In all I'm made of;
Love
Lust
Greed
Fear
Joy
Freedom
Longing
Dreams
Despair
Sadness
Anger
Frustrations
Happiness
Anxieties
Insecurities....
In all I'm made of;
A soul; securely contained within a body of battled scars;
over;
pain & triumphs, losses & gains, rejections & acceptances, dishonours & accolades...
With the hope; she too, can live life through.
© Sia Jane
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away
As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start
But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save
Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out
Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone
Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
A moonlit dance beneathe constellations
not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion
but stars we named together
linking lines from star to star
hands pointing in air so cold
a tear falls and
another
leaving a roadmap on my cheeks
that you
chase
chase
chase
lifting the palm of your hand
so cold to the touch I shiver
feeling the beauty of my tears
that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky
of this cold Parisian night
you smile in jest and
I misplace the space
between you and I and that sky
whispering "do you love me?"
how could I resist the beauty of
our second to last kiss.
© Sia Jane
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
We’re looking into each other’s eyes;
it’s 4am.
We’re sat in a hospital room, I’m reciting your favourite verse.
You’re ragged and stitched together;
I just wish it was from being loved.
I just wish my love could make you Real.
I knew from day one, no one and no thing,
not even love, could take you away and finally
set your soul free.
So
I gave you all of me.
It wasn’t hard to give away.
Within moments of witnessing your smile; the one
held in your eyes widening your stare,
you crushed through my ribs with warmth and love,
held my heart in your hand, promising no matter
the distance and land between us, my heart would remain
safe – beneath your bruised chest.
Tonight, I’m alone.
It’s been 17 days since I last saw you.
I’m in the park where we always walked,
where our love was made tangible by etchings in wood.
The bark now crumbles
and the decay mirrors the gradual corrosion
of what was once, and will
never be, again.
© Sia Jane
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
Palembang, Kamis 6 Januari 2011
Hari ini aku seneng banget
Aku sedang dekat dengan seseorang
Dan aku tak yakin menyebutnya cinta
Karena aku tuk saat ini tak percaya dengan cinta
Cinta memang indah sih
Tapi aku sedang tidak beruntung saat aku dengan mantan
Aku sekarang bisa merasakan dua belas rasa cinta
Sayang, kangen, senang, kecewa, cemas, marah, perih,
sedih, menyesal, bimbang, benci, dan lain-lain
Oleh karena iti aku tak sanggup bertemu cinta
Lebih baik tunggu saja hingga aku siap
Tapi bila aku mendapatkan satu kesempatan lagi
Aku berjanji tuk mengambilnya
Tak akan ku sia-siakan kesempatan itu
Sungguh aku berjanji
Aku tak sanggup untuk bercerita tentang nya
Karena ku takut rasa itu akan berubah
Dan yang ku rasa akan berbeda
Pasti itu akan menyakiti hatiku
Sangat
Dan yang manusia tahu
Mereka tidak mau tersakiti
Apalagi oleh cinta :)
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 2:06 AM UTC
**** head, struggling for breath
Final hit, before the red
Light flashes, warning to stop
Over dose, **** the innards
She never chose to lose this
Battle, between herself & it
Where'd she go, lost in space
Chasing herself, a dog with his tail
Praying to an above, to lead her
Straight laced, not swerving off track
Please God save me, her last plea
Before another day dawns, her final wish
Sketcher, tweaker, where's that syringe
The lights too bright, reality a curse
Rolled up in rehab, another ghetto kid
Not this girl, high class, white, moneyed
Lost to the night, speed freak, hopeless
Drowning in addiction, using again
Chemical structures defining her fate
Her brain the game
Disfigured face, unrecognizable eyes
Family love, isn't ever enough
Rushed to ER, another broken soul
Promises that drugs will save her
When only she can ever
Save herself
This time, she's not another life
Lost
The Gods sure blessed her, not with
Her wish
So she's packaged off to rehab
The third times a charm, right?
© Sia Jane
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors. Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script.
© Sia Jane
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
sedikit demi sedikit, aku sudah tidak merasakan kamu di cangkir kopiku setiap pagi.
entah rasanya mengapa sangat sangat habar. seakan kamu sudah benar-benar pergi dari sini.
tidak ada yang membuat jantung ini seakan sudah tidak berada di tempatnya lagi ketika mataku menangkap sosokmu.
aku tahu, nantinya memang kamu akan pergi. mencintai pilihanmu yang lebih sempurna dariku.
aku hanya manusia, mi querido. aku bukan dia yang lebih dari manusia normal. dia spesial untukmu. sedangkan aku tidak.
oh, tidak. aku tidak pernah kemana-kemana. aku tidak pergi. aku tetap disini dan menunggu. hanya sepertinya kamu saja yang tidak pernah sadar jika aku disini.
sudah menerka-nerka. semua ini akan berakhir tidak berbalas. semua ini berakhir sia-sia.
tapi apakah kamu tahu?
semenjak kamu bersama dia, aku sangat menikmati hobiku merangkai aksara tentangmu. walau kadang maknamu sudah terasa hambar.
kamu tahu mengapa? karena tangan ini tidak akan pernah mampu meringkuh wajahmu dan mulut ini akan kaku ketika bertatapan denganmu.
aku membiarkan tangan ini menari-nari diatas papan kata dan merangkai karangan tentangmu.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
1997, 13 AUGUST, THURSDAY
You were laid in your mother’s arms,
All soft black hair and little eyes,
You took your first cry.
2014, 13 AUGUST, WEDNESDAY
Today’s your birthday,
The austere sun is burning,
Like an orange Cyclops-eye.
It’s as if Mother Nature knew
That today’s a special day.
Let the rapture abound and
Your day shall be decked with
Gold and
You shall find bliss in your
Dreams.
Orange is your colour,
Isn’t it?
Was your first shirt orange?
Fire is orange,
And you have fire inside you.
You are the fiery one who’s
Man enough to just be
Silly,
Instead of
Tough.
Your goofy stories
Never fail to tickle our funny bones.
Your adorable doodles
Capture the hearts of all.
But most importantly,
Your endearing laugh
Will stay forever etched in the mind.
Even though I’ve only known you for
114 days,
I regard you as
One of my greatest friends.
Just remember that when you’re feeling down,
Or ‘cb what is there nice in me sia’,
Look a little longer
Stare a little harder into yourself
And you’ll see,
There are some nice things
That you never noticed about yourself.
So in the noblest way,
I wish happy birthday to the one,
Who makes me laugh,
Because he can.
Hope all your wishes come true,
And your birthday cake is as sweet as you.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Kepada Kamu.
Kita terlalu sama. Suka menangis diam diam. Kelihatan tegar di luar, padahal hancur di dalam. Ketika kini kulihat tawamu yang terlalu keras, aku tahu bahwa kau sedang tidak baik baik saja. Kau memang ahli bermain peran, tapi tidak di hadapanku. Cobalah hidup jujur terhadap apapun yang kau rasa.
Tuhan tidak menciptakan apapun untuk sia-sia. Hidup tidak melulu soal bahagia, tapi juga sebaliknya. Itu kemutlakan yang tak bisa kau tolak. Seperti sekarang, jangan selingkuhi perasaanmu sendiri, menangislah. Sungguh, tidak ada yang salah dengan jatuhnya airmata. Airmata bukan penanda lemah, sebaliknya itu pertanda agar kau tidak lengah.
Setiap kita memiliki lukanya sendiri sendiri. Juga, memiliki cara sendiri sendiri untuk memulihkannya. Airmata adalah cara lain kau berbahasa dan mengungkap rasa, ketika kau tak sanggup mengolah kata. Biarkan luka terbawa oleh setiap tetes airmata yang menitik sukarela.
Terkutuklah mereka yang percaya ‘anak hebat tidak menangis’ lalu menurunkan kebijakan yang tidak bijak itu pada anaknya. Mereka pasti mati rasa.
Izinkan aku menemanimu, tanpa banyak bicara, memberi petuah yang menjemukan, atau bertingkah konyol agar kau tertawa. Aku hanya akan duduk di sampingmu, menemani selama kau mau. Dan sesekali memberi genggaman, untuk menguatkan.
Note: bahkan airmata adalah buah tawa, saat aku bahagia bisa menemanimu dan mendengar cerita kegiatanmu seharian.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
Sia:
And another one bites the dust
But why can I not conquer love?
And I might've got to be with one
Why not fight this war without weapons?
And I want it and I wanted it bad
But there were so many red flags
Now another one bites the dust
And let's be clear, I trust no one
You did not break me
I'm still fighting for peace
Well I've got a thick skin and an elastic heart
But your blade it might be too sharp
I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard
But I may snap when I move close
But you won't see me fall apart
Cause I've got an elastic heart
I've got an elastic heart
Yeah, I've got an elastic heart
The Weeknd:
And I will stay up through the night
Let's be clear, I won't close my eyes
And I know that I can survive
I walked through fire to save my life
And I want it, I want my life so bad
And I'm doing everything I can
Then another one bites the dust
It's hard to lose a chosen one
Sia and The Weeknd:
You did not break me (You did not break me, no, no)
I'm still fighting for peace
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
9 January 2014 02.21am
"We all have feelings for our girlfriends Bea, it doesn't mean we have to act on them.."
Silence filled the room
Two opposing forces
Love lust passion
Hate anger fear
What was once owned
Has now been taken
Walking towards her
Reaching out, hand movements
So slow and graceful
An aura so compelling, senses heightened
Bodies shifting as though
Magnetic forces were playing
A sultry dance acting out
Underneath the candelabra
Eyes locked mirroring feelings
Left unspoken, razor sharp tongue
Hips graze, music intensifies
An atmosphere fraught with
Tension, favoured to be cut by a knife
Hesitating lips part with a subtle urgency
Circulatory movements dancing feet
A lowly finger fondles an inner thigh
Ever so slightly withering, exuberant pleasure
Eyes connect, glistening from the light
A smile pacifying both women
Others gazes capture their movements
For now, they are the only ones
Whose love and light fills this room
Alone, unhinged, they kiss
At first tentatively, then feverishly
Drowning, they are both saved
The lovers bodies blend into one
Possessing one another
Nothing is lost in that moment
Desperately clinging to affection
Souls freed, emotions making miracles
Two lovers effortlessly become
One soul being.
© Sia Jane
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
On the first day, he was pushed
robust in his stance, the other forced,
this boy down the spiral staircase
of the Catholic church, the school
had renovated, the Spring before
Isaac had begun his studies,
at the high school.
Ballet was his passion, Latin was the
language that so effortlessly, fluently
was spoken from his lips in class
as he smiled at his Professor, another
victory accomplished in academia
so proud were his parents, of their
blue eyed boy.
Jonah was the reject, the older brother
he had been kicked out of school,
not once, but twice, and was often
found with a joint, his unshaven face
wrapped around one of the girls,
from the all girls school that ran
alongside Isaacs all boys.
Issac was hurt, a further blow to his
stomach, rendered him broken
as a waterfall of tears ran down his
bruised and cut face, so ashamed
as other pupils laughed, staring, pointing
until the final bell rang as they fled from
the high ceilings and narrow corridors.
Wrapped in a ball, he waited for all
halls and students to clear, and as
he rolled over, picking himself up
he took to the washroom, knowing he
needed to be presentable for his mother
waiting for him at the school gate
brimming with pride, at her boys scholarship.
All his dreams, mystical and serene, Romeo and Juliet
fluid streams of poetry of Elliot, Poe, Hughes
and of course Wilde and those love letters of Beethoven
math, biology, all paled into insignificance
he was born a writer, a dancer, a drawer,
sketching and typing his heart to a page,
prose a future love would read.
Johan saw his mother's car pull up
as he raced and giggled with Saskia
leading her astray, he promised her all
the things those boys always did, and of course
not to break her sweet sixteen heart, unlike other boys
as his mother smoked another Camel, the two lovers
jumped into his truck, Johnny Cash blaring from speakers
laughing hysterically, the world at their feet.
By 4pm, Isaac was ready to leave school,
tentatively walking out the main door, down
concrete slabs as steps, no predators in sight
he couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes
that formed as bruises, knowing he was fortunate
to have not been damaged further
by the haunting before last period.
Walking to the gates, he listened through
headphones; Tchaikovsky
his release
his home
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
a peace sign
painted in sugar
tulip tattooed circle
swan like movements
lifted into blueskies
rose tinted sunglasses
hungarian green eyes
forests silver lining
magic easily broken
oh little girls
why bruised eyes
baby set free
winged haute couture.
© Sia Jane
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
abuse trigger
In my end is my beginning
-T.S. Eliot-
I distinctly remember the night I decided to get better. I mean once and for all better. On Monday 19th January 2004, at a few minutes past midnight, here, the real story began. I took a deep breath, trusted my instincts, and let myself go. I let myself taste the other side. I let myself fly freely around my environment. I looked in the mirror, removed the mask, and allowed myself to see my own reflection. And I spoke;
“You will do this. And it will start now.”
My mask I wore throughout the endless rapes and sodomizing, were what kept me alive, kept me breathing. Each day and week passed, each morning I would rise, fixate the mask, and go on. Until I no longer could go on in that way. The crash ended before it had even begun. Breathe through the pain, no pain no gain, pain is what allows you to know you are alive. This is how I survived the years of torment inflicted on myself. I re-enacted all the pain on myself in order to know I was alive. I took what I hated of him and made it a part of myself. But in 2004 that ended. I chose to walk a different path. I chose to recover.
Engaging with this topic has given me hope. I know that the future holds something amazing for me. I know that this is what living is. I know this is what freedom tastes like. I love the taste of the rain on my face, the light that shines through the night, and the feeling of well being throughout my whole self.
In **** and ****** abuse you are left hating your body. You blame yourself, and you hurt yourself as a way of reclaiming the body that another took. Your body becomes disconnected from you, it becomes "another", it becomes a "thing.”
In Greek Mythology, Persephone is the goddess of spring. According to her story, she was abducted, ***** and taken to the underworld by Hades, the lord of the underworld. When her mother, Demeter, found out what had happened to Persephone, she convinced Zeus to force Hades to release her. Before Persephone could leave, Hades made her eat a pomegranate, which meant that she would have to return to the underworld for one-third of the year. According to the legend, the time Persephone spends in the underworld is the time in which there is winter on the earth. Because Persephone made it out of the underworld, she can be called the first survivor.
As survivors we can take comfort from the knowledge that although winter is hard, there is always spring around the corner.
© Sia Jane (2007)
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
I don't even know what to write, or say.
And for a person who has written so many poems,
on this site,
it is kind of unbelievable.
My first poetry anthology, "Wanderlust" - Sia Jane Lloyd
is now available via Amazon.
This place (Hello Poetry) has given me something I could never return or give words to.
Such acceptance, courage, love, belief, determination, inspiration...
Thank you for making me realise my dreams.
I couldn't have done it without you.
I love you all so so so much xoxo
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Wanderlust-she-travels-her-mind/dp/1492952346/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1392582925&sr;=8-1&keywords;=sia+jane+lloyd
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
*"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."*
Shall I compare thee...
...to the Iguazú Falls River, where legend serves that a serpent; Boi, demanded a sacrifice each year of a young female, and the day two lovers; Tarobá and his beautiful maid Naipí, took to escape, and in revenge of such an act, Boi exuded such anger that he parted the river, thus forming the Iguazú Falls, splitting the river and condemning to two lovers to the falls.
or
...to Cristo Redentor; Christ the Redeemer, the Art Deco statue, protecting and looking over the city of Rio de Janeiro, to whom in all its glory cannot escape the force of nature, struck by lightning, causing damage irreplaceable.
or
…to The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, hundreds of metres into the sky, a place that to this day is unknown, myth being that King Nebuchadnezzar recreated the homeland of his precious wife Amyitis, who was deeply depressed and homesick, allowing her to find comfort and happiness.
or
…the Taj Mahal, of Pradesh, constructed using marble by the emperor Shah Jahan, in loving memory of his third wife; Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of Muslim art, a calligraphy written Great Gate reading; "O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you.
or
…the Temple of Artemis; Istambul, on sacred land in honour of the Greek goddess Artemis, the most apotheosized of Greek deities, the supposed daughter of Zeus and Leto, the temple also known as Diana, one of the goddesses who vouched never to marry; alongside Minerva and Vesta.
or
… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, of the Persian Empire, whereby Mausolus ornamented four sculptures created in relief for his wife (and also his sister); Artemisia II of Caria, generating an above ground tomb that would become to be listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
But of all,
I compare thee to the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sexuality; Aphrodite
arising from the sea, floating ashore on a shell;
Venus rising from the sea,
a lover of many,
later depicted as a painting of the Birth of Venus,
by the sufferer of unrequited love; Botticelli,
using his muse Simonetta Vespucci as a model.
© Sia Jane
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
I am a thousand different things
I'm people, objects, nature, animal
I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child
toddler, baby, foetus
I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting
I'm all you wish you were (not)
I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret
I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love
When I write, I'm a character
fiction, autobiographical, biographical
I'm lived, burned, broken, insane
I'm madness, virginal, loose, free
closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see
I'm intrigue, a passer by,
I'm the observer, the observed,
voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film
Moss, McQueen, Klein
I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism,
I'm poetry; written and spoken
I'm the woman you read of; her
I'm the girl who made you cry
I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration
I open doors to the past, then slam the door
in your bright doe eyes
I close doors to my future, and sneak back
through cracks in the floor,
just to get back
I laugh in your face, and burn holes
in skin at your absence
I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf
blinded,
I'm the severest of contradictions,
I say yes at no, no to yes,
I decide on impulse, and cry on cue
Beauty, romance, love, lust
poetry,
all the questions I am made of
I answer in the written word
mute,
You only know me,
(if of course you dare)
by reading my rhymes,
(non judgmental stance)
and loving me regardless,
(don't expect perfection)
If you're going down
the same road
start today,
face your demons,
be the contradiction.
© Sia Jane
--
*"So unimpressed but so in awe
Such a saint but such a *****
So self aware so full of ****
So indecisive so adamant
So rock and roll, so corporate suit
So **** ugly, so **** cute
So well-trained, so animal
So need your love, so **** you all"*
Robbie Williams - Come Undone
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
I get home, to a hand crafted
note, one you wrote, with
the old calligraphy pen, that
sits at grandfathers writing desk.
You even used the envelope,
sealed by candle wax, stamped
a red wax, my initial, touching,
folded paper, a kiss of brass.
The art of, manliness, unforgotten
left on the pillow, of this grandiose
four poster bed, mahogany homemade,
the resting place, for weekend affairs.
You refuse to kiss, ruby covered lips,
as I remember the calling card, you
used as a formal introduction, perfectly
groomed, you entered my life, unregrettably.
You, a man learned from his, grandfather
his own father passing away, whilst
away at sea, that cold and distant war,
my tears fell as you pursued his path.
You looked so debonair, a
tuxedo, measured to fit, all alignments
and as I stare at you, eyes connecting
all I wish for, are sweet kisses.
I want your arms around me,
softly whispering, of how you
will gently caress, each
and every curve, kissing my thigh.
The letter, quite simply,
hand typed, reads;
Florence Rose, will you do me the honor of marrying me?
I flush my arms around your neck,
tears fall, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.
He embraces me, kisses those lips,
lifts me to the bed,
********** me for minutes
moments and hours,
he makes love to me,
and I know, I know he,
is the only man I will ever need,
or even know.
© Sia Jane
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Love bug, lady crush, peeking through a midnight sky,
Deep Purple, Smoke on the Water, before a
glimmer in her eye,
90's girl, child stars of, The Disney Club,
Timberlake, Spears, Aguilera,
Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls dominating,
every air wave,
Victoria Beckham, her Parsons inspiration
fashion designer she'll fight her way,
to the top, so much power in her name,
yet even stripped bare, she'd be a star,
her talent to sketch, draw and drape,
falls on knees bent, if only we pray,
to even have an ounce from her display,
I know few like her, love unconditional,
we're the writers seeking solace,
an unforgiving pain,
life taking so much drain,
in the light of day this pain brings forth,
an edge to your art, a masochistic feel,
creating itself a soul untamed.
You write to remember, you sketch your dreams
hopelessness turns to desire,
the dark cloud of youth,
dissipates in the air,
knowing there is a way through,
treachery and despair.
My dear, you may some days,
feel in that gutter trying to,
catch a star,
but today you shine, as bright as
a diamond in this very same sky,
we see across continents,
each night that we pray.
Release the grip, lessen the pull,
fly and fly,
sore heights so high,
you ain't ever coming down.
© Sia Jane
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
HelloPoetry Blessed us all , no matter where we live.
I am truly Blessed by each and everyone alike here.
There are so many here on this here site that I am thankful for.
Sally Bayan, Mike Hauser, Iamdaisie, Olivia Kent, Wendy Ronshausen,Brandon Nagley, Earl Jane, Rachel Sia Jane Lloyd, Lydia Monet,Neil Aranda, Mark Cleavenger, Ann Marie Johnson, Melanie Wilson-Herring, Mike Essig, **** Paz Its Gonna Make Sense.
PrttyBrd, Vicki Bashor, Kripi Mehra, Willyam Pax, Poetess Bhumi, Kelly Rose.
Elizabeth Burnettge, Toni Pugh, Paul Champman, David Lewis Paget.
Ryn, Sean Scibbles, Aurelia, Kim Johanna Baker,Yasaman Johari.
Lady RF,Crazy Diamond Kristy, Weeping Willow, Alyssa Underwood.
MydstopiA,adhi das, South by southwest, Petal, soulsurvivor.
reformdancerecover,Ashly Kocher, Mack, Travler, Randolph Wilson.
Plus many more whom are very special indeed whom did not make this poem love you all in Christ.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC