"wordlove" poems
Every day I reveal
I give a little more
something special, so real to life
a different side of life
those pieces of me no one can steal
every night I'm where it takes me
to where I find that part of me
that needs no excuses
nothing to change
nothing to add to
But what if it isn't the truth? What if I am a product of fear? When I look at my keyboard, I remember things I cannot say aloud. That is the darkness.
nothing to subtract
the fairy of all things sharp and dangerous.
a day in the sun a light
That casts no shadow,
Pushing through all darkness
To reveal the only truth
a smackeral here,
a smidgen there
i stitch into the weave
as my truth
as i can bare,
leaving me naked
and bereft
but as a milliner of words
so fine
I stitch together a tapestry
of twine
upon a silken bed of shadow
the words, they matter
on the morrow
Twisted threads of golden thought
weaves crimson tears
that taught
the one that orates
as they weave
leaves a pattern
that can't deceive
cleft, my palette
of words, sacred,
alone but not forsaken-
created, awakened and tasted
and i stop for a while
to taste the silence between words
the echoes of my steps
roaming inside a dream
Chinese boxes with corners that
domino like the seals
of envelopes, they
stick to sticky
seals of words,
telling of straw earth.
sinkhole, the word frightened me as a child
even now I tread lightly
allaying the inevitable
i tread lightly, lightly... allaying
the inevitable
babble of...
"lustful gushing
of wordlove
that cascades
from my brain
enervated, regenerated
obligated
to explain
the gears
and cogs
of this
clockwork world
write....again
and again
the never ending
refrain
oh listen to the silence
listen
between the words
from
the death of one breath;
to
the birth of the next
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
words.
i just
love
them.
big ones,
little ones.
just love them
they are like
honey on my lips,
poprockz candy to my
brain.
they crackle and fizz:
igniting,
exciting,
vibrating,
reawakening...
synapses too quiescent;
jiggling,
wiggling,
slapping,
trappin,
thoughts....
caught snoozin and napping;
flip flopping
flim flam-ing
photograph
framing...
opinion only halfway dressed;
jitterbuggin,
jiving,
striving
sometimes conniving....
fighting for a voice;
half formed,
brainstormed,
uninformed,
spoken on a baited breathe,
giggle, gaggle,
gobbledegook...
given egress;
hornswoggle,
bing bang boggle,
lolloping through....
galumping,
triumphing,
tree stumping....
both
me
and
yoohoo
too!!!
zip
it,
zinger
coming
on
thru.
my
mind
a
veritable
word
zoo
where i
graze
and nibble
and
nab
a
theasuarus
or
2
.....
words.
i just
love
them.
.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth
luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters
sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue
ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations
organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies
my affair
accomplishes much
for little
it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.
a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.
lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.
all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
we as poets,
are like birds....
in the sky.
soaring against,
the backdrop of
nature's grandeur
while aloft, we espy,
beauty and sorrow
and all the stuff....
that living life makes,
and falls forgotten,
in-between the cracks,
of just.... being.
from which,
we as poets,
glean .....
words and phrases,
that cause us to,
ponder, wonder
and cogitate.
those whispers of love.
sighing, breaths and sorrows
thoughts of futures blest,
of now, i am impressed
and yester's hollow,
and yet to be put to rest.
and bring them home,
with loving care,
to nidificate....
to interweave what we
see, hear and feel... & know
into the nesting chamber
for our wordlove....
for our poem
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC