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harlon rivers Nov 2017
The nakedness of winter lies heavy upon
the tolling Sunday quietude
Shed  leaves perish into yesterday
and the dream of another
dawning  someday wanes

The  sun ― lay low
the drudging  ashen  skyline  
Barerd emerald moss scaffolds
draw much more distantness
to the pallid shadowed horizon

The evergreens step forth,
roots grasping sacred heart,
soil  and  rock
In the swelling aloneness
you can feel the grain
of  the  heartwood
rooted in your soul

There are no hard feelings
but there's an enduring ache,
like a tree with a rotting limb
languishing  within
its blackened bark sacrifice

It's not just the grinding time
that slips away begrudgingly;
more of the same takes a toll 
as if another unrung belfry hour
in an empty bell tower
without a song rang out in vain,

peeling  reflections
of reluctant hours  c r a w l  by
in the insensible apathy

A so called holiday passes ―
its footprint bears down
hard  and  deep
as if a paling winter rose
grieves its own passing

A dry wishbone unbroken
lay bare the poignant
truth  it  holds;

it takes two to make
this wish come true


.
Written by:  harlon rivers
a winter Sunday
11. 26. 2017

Note : alternative title before
accidentally published
by write/ public/default

"Unlucky Wishbone"
M Aug 2013
Don't have a wishbone
Where your backbone ought to be,
They told me, so often.

See, wishbones are meant
For Thanksgiving dinners where
Two children break it

In half to see who
Gets the first turkey leg,
or something like that.

See, wishbones aren't strong.
They aren't reliable, strong
Enough to support you

When what you ought to
Do doesn't comply with what you
So dearly wish for.

If you lack backbones,
And have a wishbone for a
Spine instead, you should

Get to breaking that
wishbone right out of your mind
And body because

At the end of the day,
A backbone is all you have
When wishes aren't your

Reality. No,
A backbone will keep you up
Whereas a wishbone

Will break easily,
As easily as your heart
Will when your wishes

Do not come true. A
Backbone is something you ought
To have instead dear.
An ex boyfriend, after weeks of not speaking, asked to say good bye to me before he left for college. Recently he's said many inconsiderate and rude things about me, so his request took me off guard. My "wishbone" wanted to give in and see him one last time, but I knew that I was condoning him being such an *** to me (he was warranted to an extent- he took to talking about more than was expected or acceptable for someone an ex boyfriend of two months) if I let him say good bye. So I had a backbone instead and told him no. It seems trivial but he's been a weak spot for me in the past, and it was nice to not be so nice to someone who didn't deserve my kindness or a pass anyway. That's what inspired this haiku.
Samuel Fox Oct 2016
You ask me what I'd wish for if
I knew it would come true. I knew
it was true: you left me
to sleep out in the cold, dawn
hours and half a globe away.

If it meant I would receive frostbite,
shiver uncontrollably and turn cyanotic,
suffer hypothermia underneath the window
with the blinds closed and you
behind them shedding tears I cannot catch,
I would suffer. I did.

It reminded me of the Thanksgiving
my uncle had me grab the prong of a wishbone,
my best friend on the other side.
We made a wish and the horseshoe of ivory
cracked, and splintered into two pieces.
He got the larger half. I still kept my wish
hidden, hoping, that one day I'd meet you.

I would suckle the sorrow from your fingers,
wipe the tears and mascara with my cheek,
and croon to you I will change. I can change.
But, I must do that; and not for you.

Our love is like that wishbone. Every time
it breaks, we wish but do not work to see it through.
Margo May Nov 2014
the season has begun
and tonight was oh so fun
it was the first dinner of many
we had turkey a plenty
yet there was only one lone
wishbone.
i knew right then and there
and maybe it wasn't fair,
that i had to be the one to break
i had to be the one to make
a wish and hope for it to
come true.
so i grabbed one end
and it started to bend,
i couldn't believe my eyes
when in my hand was the bigger size
which means my wish about you
will possibly come true.
Dallas Phoenix Mar 2015
What is prayer?
Hope?
To a wishbone,
Make it snappy,
My dreamfields are *****,
And lately I've been lacking a comb,
I guess that's okay,
For those who suffered every night and day,
Whatever makes your flowers bloom,
Whatever should sooth those scars and wounds,
I guess I'll never walk those shoes,
But do what you absolutely feel you need to do,
Take the pain and wash them away,
Rub the memories into the sea then run away,
All the torture you store in the genius chambers of your mind,
Will depart as long as you acknowledge that in time,
You are not alone,
Physically and spiritually,
Me and you will never die because our matter matters 'til infinity,
Till the universe expires we are here and always be,
Rubbing out our pain to the depths of the sea,
Nicole Hurley Jun 2010
I wish for happiness.
I wish for peace.
I wish for love.
I wish for good health.
I wish for success.
I wish for a raise.
I wish for career.
I wish for school.
I wish for trust.
I wish for marriage.
I wish for children (someday).
I wish for...
.....
© Nicole Hurley, 2010

I found a wishbone on Thanksgiving. I need to make one single wish with the opposite *** and I hope for my piece that I pull will be the longer end. And if it is...what do I wish for?
RIKKI May 2013
She's on the couch with her eyes open lips open legs open
She just kinda appeared

That's what we want of course
m greene Aug 2013
i would say i fell for you
just like a child
but i fell for you harder than that
i fell for you just like
an embryo may fall for
the hope that he'll be born
only to be aborted way too soon.

you were every inch of my hope
of being alive. you were darkness
but only darkness refined
you were the nights we took
acid in venice beach
looking for real excuses to be high

we found oceans of friends
flooding waves of laughter,
i remember clinging to your chest
your pale face lit by neon diner windows
looking up into the sparkle of your
(god i swear they were) silver eyes
and getting caught in the under toe.

you left me flat,
gave me a vow and went on home.
you broke my heart like a wishbone.
i suffer still from scars
three years on..

and i can't even
remember your name,
Scorpio.
Tom McCone Aug 2015
i breathe out & the world is calm. we are standing waves in the sea. i am a long distance, a collection of lip movements, and all associated aches. you were a fleck of snow i barely even saw, and the ensuing onslaught of winter. plans turn around, often; we stick no closer to 'em than our moralities- i knew what i believed, just some other day: i believed i could roll out of the feeling of wakelessness that i'd thought you endowed upon my eyelids. you were prying them open, though, and i was the one at force. "sleep, my fears and doubts", i would call to myself -round midnight- "sleep and you may escape, or somehow come closer to what you're not sure if you seek".

but my plans, moralities and i, all ambiguous at best, changed. i can't pinpoint why. you said "maybe you can smell my dying, from all that way" i said i hoped not, that i could sense you but you just couldn't tell you were flourishing.

in the heat, i would make out daydreams like dialogue, spread sense like contrails: seemingly cohesive monuments to my bearing, left out to dissipate. snowfields on sunlit afternoons. but you, you you you you you, you stay heavy-stuck to the ground through cycling seasons. variation, only nondecreasing patterns in my everyday thought. inconsistence, only meaningful or meaningless. no pain, just ache all the same.

finally, in month's transitions, i found meaning (or its absence) and realised each was a facet of the other. that all facets were tiny jewels, set into the world, puzzle-piece mirrors set just. right., to reflect the gleaming bright pearl inset upon the other side of our tiny universe, each light another stroke of your portraiture, and i found longing: to find the unknown, through all things ordinary.

and you were, at once, more than a question-mark and the statement of my circles through days. you were the taste of waking, without sharp slice of reality. you were a mirror, hung in front of i, also reflecting; and i saw eternity unfold in us each. you were, and are still, peace on the shoreline. and i was, and am still, drowning, but i can make out sand on the horizonline.

so, i'll just keep afloat, if you can do the same.
so, i just won't go changin',
shine brighter with each passing day.
smile.
Jonny Angel May 2014
I have sensuous
visions of us
constantly floating
around in my head.
I see me
kneeling behind you,
buried deep
in another dimension,
gripping
your sweet hips
& you,
O you,
those primal sounds
make me crazy,
you in full bloom,
split,
receiving my all.
MissNeona Sep 2014
I wanted to tell you a story
To spill it out all before you
So you could put it back together
in a way it would all make sense
In the way I know only you can do
I know you, you know me,
How can it be, do you see?
I know you do, it's so true
You speak to my soul, you do.
S May 2015
i dream of silk and black lipstick, leather and ice-burn
i fashion thoughts into clouds of smoke i ghost out of my mouth
into necklaces i will only ever give to you; you
are burnt russet bitten lip bleached bone coalesced into
constellation; you burn brighter
than any constellation i have ever breathed

i dream of your hipbones; stretch marks flicking over them
like lightning glimpsed between fingers; like wishbones silently pulled apart
in promise; you are wishbone you are gold plate you are sunshine
through a stained-glass window; my heart is glass
a cemetery to your footprints a cathedral to your broken
dreams; i can taste the honey in your scattered thoughts
like a prayer on my tongue
i dream of deep purple and yellow and green and
black and fading bruise and blood
at the corner of your lip; i can taste iron in your breath
rotting in my dreams slow-burning ice in my veins; vengeance
is a dish best served cold i know
that if i unfurl my skeleton and tuck you into the spaces between my
ribcage and my lungs you will taste just as sweet

i dream of ruby emerald sapphire in brooches pinned onto black i
think of the bruise-giver of the blood-spiller of cracks in my
ribcage of wishbones of constellations of iron-taste of ice-burn of you of you of you
and i let you in
and i am cathedral i am cemetery i am bonfire i am in l o v e
with constellation
Dave Hardin Oct 2016
Wishbone

Holding things down
on my end, calibration
the name of the game
purchase gained and lost
longing for your exquisite
exertions palpable
the length of this delicate glyph
grace and menace
in equal measure
on display across the bight
floored by your gaze
play of three fingers against
your effortless pinch
my feigned contortions
leavened by a finning
hand to ward off
the snap of lesser wishes.
Patricia LeDuc Mar 2018
I wished on a shooting star
I wished on the first star I saw in the night
I wished on an eyelash to find a true love
I wished on the candles on my birthday cake
I wished on the penny I threw in the well
I wished on a wishbone breaking it in two
I wished on a dandelion blowing seeds into the air
I wished on a ladybug to grant me good luck
I wished our love would come true
I wished you knew of my love for you

I wished that I knew… you were wishing for me too

I wished
I wished
I wished

I wished until there were no wishes left

(****! Where’s that Genie when you need him?)
March 27th 2018
I ate my lover bones
With shards inside of me
I feel him next to me when I sleep
I saved a bone to wish upon
Perhaps it will come true
Nicole Hammond Jan 2016
nothing more to be born of the ash
nothing more to be born of me
flesh stretching to give and exhale in giving
inhaling smoke and sweetness inhaling
my throat a museum of anniversaries
pain with meaning
revisiting grave sites of people still breathing
breath for screaming
washing the ghosts of your hands
out of my clothing
because loving is leaving
oil of your skin in the water from my eyes
running from feeling
these poisons my body is cleaning
senses left reeling
your touch still so appealing
your face so seldom appearing
ava Nov 2018
my mother always said her worst fear was growing old
she tucks the years into her waistband without looking in the mirror
the wrinkles grow on her face like roots from a tree
i ask how she can stay with a man that makes her bleed
"in ten years he'll die"
her voice is subdued, expression removed
but the words still tremble on her lips
i know it's a wish
she made ten years ago
noa Feb 2019
you treated me as if my spine was a wishbone
Tallulah Oct 2012
I’ll shatter another wishbone
If it means you’ll answer the phone
I’ll scour for pennies on this deserted street
If I’ll be lucky enough for us to meet

I’ll stay up all night gazing for a shooting star
If I can rest my feet on the dash of your car
I’ll pluck every eyelash from my eyes
If it means I can wish away all the lies

But the dandelions won’t work
You’re throat is sealed with a cork
I’ll still wish for one more kiss
Don’t you see? It’s you I miss.
Catrina Sparrow Dec 2012
we broke the wishbone
you got the wish
i got a splinter

that's how it goes

fare faced grinning fool
     oh, how easy it'd be
for me to be jealous of you, brother
the boy who couldn't be stopped
the man that the wind whispers to

you are magic
you are busy lights on an empty stretch of I80
the swell of drum beats over silence
the giggle-fit tear stains on the universe's cheek

baby boy
wide eyed man-cub

the world tried to steal you
once
all those years ago
and you
you defiant son-of-a-gun
refused to bow to even death
     the laugh lines at the end of a blank heart rate

thanks for never leaving me behind

you take nothing seriously
except dreams and funerals
and the call of the moon

"no matter where you are in life
no matter how noisy it gets
or how badly it hurts
you have to throw on the brakes now and then
just slow down
and turn your eyes to the sky
and howl
like a ravid coyote
howl at the moon"

"remind existence that you won't go quietly"

when i was six
dad told me that he and mom
had made us out of stardust
and magic
and beer caps
and fossils
     that they made us out of treasure

you're my treasure
and the temple of my dreams
you're my map
my back pack
my adventure hat
and the voice in my head that laughs
and calls me a *******

we are not human beings on a spiritual endeavor
but spiritual beings
bound to a human medium

how very thankful i am to be tethered to you
for my little brother, kyle. a year and one half younger than i, and still my hero. cheers, you little ****. (: i love you, whole biiiiig bunches.
Sia Jane Jan 2015
If I were to say;
the devil & god both
rage within,
I would render myself
dishonest.
For despite blind faith
you have never heard
me surrender,
to the devil or god.
The agnostic in me
did surrender, to a name
still unknown.
An internal war
battles of wills I so fought
pleading & praying;
save me from what I have
so become.

A war rages within
thirsty blood red, slaughter
a house for the dead.
I fall at your feet, lick the blood
splashed & spilled;
a slaughterhouse will never
be a clean resting place.
I kneel; genuflect
at the
shrine of gods
& monsters.
I whisper;
What will be?
What will become of me?

Laughing, spitting,
in the face of anguished despair.
A war rages within.
Nor devil nor god may see,
I am yours for slaughter,
surrendered for you
in this wasteland
my mind created when
you
were first
gone.

© Sia Jane


"I’ll be your

slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this

          bullet inside me."

Wishbone by Richard Siken
L Gardener Sep 2013
Torsos in windows,
dark shadows,
whispered laughter,
and a wishbone stick.
Sickly, spider trees
rustle in the night breeze
lightly.
Streetlight beams find me.
Nose growing cold.
Walking from home
all alone.
Katie Miller Jan 2019
12/9/2018

Blow a dandelion
Scattered wishes
Weedkiller breathes death upon their hopes

Wish upon
A shooting star
Destroyed debris grants nothing

Pennies in wells
Change for a wish
Leftover change in an empty case

Rabbits foot
On a chain
Hopping stops a hoping dream

Four leaf clover
Picking flowers
Wishing on the dead weeds kills

Wishbone breaking
A wish come true
One is left with a broken heart

Birthday candles
Blow, make a wish now
Burning reflections in teary eyes

A hopeless sky
Ignorant innocence
Children’s wishes turn to dust

A hopeful fairytale
Told stories of love
A broken heart reveals the truth
I was sitting in the car while my dad was driving and we were just talking. He said that, the previous night, he had seen a shooting star, but didn't both wishing on it because that would be "ridiculously ignorant". I, being a poet, launched into a cliche explanation that a shooting star isn't just a wish, or a dream, it's a hopeful type of ignorance. To this, he responded, "It's just space trash". I decided to write a depressing poem from this, just as I do with most things in my life. I hope that this poem captures the lost ignorance and innocence of a wishing well, a shooting star, a rabbits foot, a clover, and dandelion, and all of the other wishing spells we cast when we are children.
Steve May 2016
Robert the robot was a mechanical man
His grandad had been a baked bean can
His cousin Dan was a robotic arm
And his girlfriend Pam was a good luck charm
Here's me moaning about my life
And things I might change in my wife
When I realised in the luck of the draw
I could have been a rabbit's paw
Or a wishbone
Or on my own
But instead I go to bed in the warm.
Jon Tobias May 2013
The doorknob to the closet
full of my skeletons is made of
funny-bone

But there are days
when honesty tugs a little too roughly and
I realize this isn't all that funny now
Is it?

As a writer
You learn presentation is key
In the bend of language
I create this man
I want you to believe me to be

And so I tell you these stories
like they are jokes
Like they are no big deal

Like the first time I got drunk
was with my friend's mom
who was a known child molester
She tried to order us ****
But couldn't work the cable

Or my friends and I used to travel our city
via the water drainage system
Near the mall
We got lost once
and while standing
in ankle high water
we saw at least 20 homeless people
sleeping on pallets
We called that place *** City
We had to get directions back out

There's a possibilty I have been an accessory to ******
Around the time in my life when I learned
How not to dwell

My body was a wishbone
My father meant to break
But every beating
left me the better half

I find so much of it funny

My brother's most recent suicide attempt
My mother's
My father's Alzheimer's

He once chased after our mailman
naked
Asking him about some letter
from some woman
I have never met before

I find laughter
and beauty
in the bend of language

When this chest becomes a broken radiator
and my heart grows cold
The metaphor mutates Campfire

Come here
I am lonely
and I have a story to tell you
Circa 1994 Mar 2014
"What does the wishbone tattoo signify?"
Depends who's asking.
If I like you it's because not all things that are broken are bad.

If I don't then it's because I needed more luck.
Tallulah Jun 2014
She stopped eating until she was nothing but right angles and sharp edges. It was if she couldn’t understand the math of the world she lived in, so she sought the neat geometry of the curve of her hollowed hips, the bend of her wishbone elbow, and the measurements of her rag doll ankles.
Taylor St Onge Jul 2014
I’m choking on a fistfull of bones.                   There’s a skull
hidden deep in the back of my closet,
maybe in the abyss beneath my mattress,
maybe lodged somewhere behind my bookshelf,
that reads aloud all my past regrets
like bedtime stories.

I found the dried up teeth of my grandmother
on my vanity and used them like dice.
There’s a rib from my great aunt that I use
as a clothes hanger dangling on a hook in my bathroom.

When I was little the playset in my backyard
looked like tomorrow,
but weathered down and rusted, it looks
        like a mausoleum.  

There is a lock of hair on my bedside table that
is not mine, but hers, and I can’t help but
wonder if she wants it back.  Does she want it back?

There’s nine-year-old smoke in my lungs and
five-year-old iron around my heart.
There’s a wishbone branded to my liver
to signify the what if? and a
skull branded onto my chest to
signify the what is.

I learned not to trust so fully the first time I
nearly drown and how to be independent the
first time I learned to swim.
I used to want to be a “daddy’s girl” until I
realized what that meant.  The roses he gave me
for graduation went headfirst into the trash.

I have many things left unsaid.
daddy issues poetry.
Jon Tobias Jun 2013
1
I remember her body against me

She tells me she doesn't want to get hurt
That I will break her heart

You can break me like a wishbone
and keep the better half

Sharpen it like a prison shiv
and stab me with it if I do

2
She is the snow
I am a stove in a single room cabin

I have been cutting off parts of this home
and feeding them into my belly

There is sawdust
on the floor of my love

3
Most of this house is gone now
I am still a stove
she is still snow

We both think
this heat is a good idea

I keep burning

Call her iglu
Call her daring
Call me almost homeless

4
I have left the stove

I am a candle now

Slow burning

Call me always hot still

Call her always melting

The floor is always wet

5
I tried to trap the ocean
in a dresser drawer

But we were flooded roofless

I learned to hold my breath

She learned that warmth doesn't really change anything

There was the sun
and it heated her body

I bathed in the ocean
she made
a thin
near burnt candle

I sank down

Her heart was made of winning halves of wishbones
Sharpened like shivs

I did not go near them

I am not afraid of getting hurt
But I have always been taught
to respect the sea

— The End —