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Britt Swann May 2020
When I close my eyes one last time,
I can see a darkness in depth I've never known.
It takes but a moment to recompose
That soon my flesh will recede from bone.

Yet of this infinite night adhere:
Stars gather round, burning cold and bright;
In passage my sorrows morph to stone,
Wings gaining in my crowning flight.

And those whose hearts beat close to mine
Seek to catch my pacific gaze.
Spritely in their telling smiles, golden and pastel,
I feel a hum amidst the celestial haze.

Together like wild geese awing,
My journey begins past Earth's lovely air.
We speed off to tour the heavens sound,
Until we reconvene to quell despair.
Britt Swann Aug 2018
Just before the skies open up,
I inhale the fresh earthy scent of renewal.
Then a languid rain settles across the field.

At forest's edge
Droplets sift through leaves—
A gradual harmony with distant birdsong.

Morningtime succumbs to lethargy;
Slipping back to forgotten reverie,
Eyelids heavy with pastel daydreams.

Noon will bring about
The glistening baubles of sunlight
Perched on pretty wildflowers.
Britt Swann Dec 2019
One cannot promise all that's old
Will prosper in this weary spell,
Yet if we heed the tales foretold
And turn our ears to listen well,
We will hear the wind's mournful yell,
"Save my sister! Let her be free!
Away from this mortal hell—
Please deliver the broken sea!"

She gives us riches beyond gold
With the faith we will all compel;
Each to guard the riddle untold
So her bounty will always swell,
But men have heard the sounding knell;
They've given up hope—none foresee
A future moment to rebel.
Please deliver the broken sea!

No beauty fairer to behold
Than in the depths of her brine hell,
For in them lurks the stunning cold
That is our sad cause to impel:
In stony houses men now dwell
Away from the dangerous quay!
Her eerie waves meant to repel;
Please deliver the broken sea!

Tears swim to meet her last farewell;
May she one day regain esprit
Upon her throne of pearl seashell.
Please deliver the broken sea!
Britt Swann Mar 2019
Dissected a rainbow,
  but found no riddle between.

Three lights shining;
  green, red, and blue.
Tranquil white endured.

Acrylic paints running;
  green, red, and blue.
Calm black endured.

Realization occurred;
  Colors united gives
  colors divided.
Why has this incurred?
Britt Swann Sep 2019
Could you love a stranger after five seconds?
Five minutes, or five years?

A breathless moment;
Lost words.

We shared our galaxies as our eyes met.

Warm smile turned curious grin—
And I knew our thoughts were the same.

Tangled hands;
No regrets.

Our first union recalled in different glimpses of time.

And this night when the stars unravel our secrets—
Just love in this moment.
Britt Swann May 2019
What little courage I have
I left through the door as you slept.
And right now I'd rather
Exchange ten seconds of life
Than to kiss you again.

For fear that I stumble down,
Right back into the door.
I try to hide my secret letter
Somewhere you wouldn't think to look—
On the pillow next to you.

So I hold my thumb
In the air, walking backwards.
And maybe I'll kiss you once
Again when we're older
And you are dead.
Britt Swann Aug 2018
I danced beyond the moonlight
To the beat of ghostly drums.
My heart abandoned to the rhythm;
My soul plucked among the thrums.

Feathers netted in my hair,
Eyes painted rust and red—
I chanted for the living
As I danced among the dead.

The stars spied behind Moon's halo
With a dark and hungry glee.
They knew not of what they witnessed,
Only a stolen jubilee.

As I danced beyond their eyes
Beneath the umbra of starry night,
The demons joined in droves,
And we danced into the night.
Britt Swann Mar 2019
The sun would shine night and day,
   less the moon wandered out to play.
Snow would fall in summertime
   to justify the cold of winter's long rime.

The ocean and wind would adore
   that from their love we'd sail ashore.
Gold would simmer in a ***
   to be poured upon the poorest lot.

The clouds would be our softest thrones,
   and ev'rything beyond the blue we'd own.
Seasons would change if we wished them to
   because sometimes feelings grow anew.

The ships would anchor at the gate,
   and not one soul would ever be late.
Sparrows would sing of only happiness,
   and not one heart would know any less.

The cosmos would be in your hand;
   together, you and I, would always stand.
If we were gods and commanded this,
   you and I would be creators of ultimate bliss.
Britt Swann Oct 2018
When I feel the cool,
grassy softness sink
between my toes;
The damp earth coating
my feet—I change.

Dewy kisses of
sunshine and linen air
lift me to the blue sky;
The gentle stream
waters tickling my skin;

Transcendence occurs.
I am not on the brink
of natural fortitude;
I am the natural
wonder of Mother.

When I feel the wet
droplets of rain
on my tongue;
The inlet breeze rifling
my hair—I smile.

The golden cast of
shadows and bird calls
take me to dreams;
The gray, misty clouds
threatening snowflakes;

Awakening occurs.
I am not in the light
of natural splendor;
I am the natural
splendor of Mother.

When I feel the rush
of standing cliffside
inside my lungs;
The sway of the earth
as it spins—I sleep.

The moon rising
when the sun sets
in another world;
The silence of peace
within the cityscape;

Uprising occurs.
I am not on the line
of surreal selection;
I am the surreal
entity of Mother.

When I feel the quake
of life burbling awry
beside my soul;
I know all of this beauty
lives—in tandem.
Britt Swann Apr 2019
Deep within her woeful eyes,
  A calmness remains.
The absolute soothsayer of lies
Where a cryptic phantasm resides—
  All imprinted upon these cold chains.

Her circadian rhythm sings of resonance—
  Decay drowning every mile.
Time is an immeasurable distance,
Void of every cosmic existence.
  Yet, still there lives an ill-imposed smile.

Doom weds Immaculation
  On the blackest shank of evening.
Sweet memories collapse with imagination—
Seen as over indulgent frustration.
  And all that seems is unseeming.

Shadows of infinite guilt
  Plague the weary quintessence.
Doubt whispers of pains rebuilt
When tepid blood was spilt
  Upon the very death of acquiescence.

Thus she speaks of mourning mists,
  And redemption exhales one final breath.
Turning away from all that exists,
Knowing that silence persists
  That life is life; death is death.
Britt Swann Dec 2023
A star on the map, leagues in descent of ink barrels.
Do I stamp my name in honor? Rise to the sturdy world
Where our ancestors came and fell?

Glimpse on jewels no man's eyes have yet to see;
I am awake after years of disdain, distant
Of my home and my inner knowledge.

So what seeking wonder gives my mind an ultimatum
That my heart cannot justify? I have spilled the ink
Before and lost the privilege to write.

So I keep on traveling, daring to look at vast beauty,
Floating in the world. I am past a golden existence,
But platinum is in high demand in these ages.
Britt Swann Aug 2018
I didn't mind when you took my hand,
and we sat as silence washed over my calamitous nerves.
I remember the digital glare of the clock
as it sharply turned to 12:33,
the A.M. apparent by the dusting of starlight shimmering
through the velvet haze of late winter sky.
We didn't look at one another;
I couldn't bear the pity reserved in your gaze,
and I doubt you wanted to see the anguish in mine.
I've always struggled to hold onto my tears,
but that warm February night I sobbed shamelessly.
Nothing had hurt so deep and made me feel vacuous
as if I was simply free-floating outside of myself.
But the assurance of your hand
tangled with mine kept me centered—
its balm lathered over my soul
as if I was brushed with lavender essence.
And now, 4,588 days past, I still fall
into that soothing, tangible memory.
Britt Swann Apr 2019
Springing from
mighty earth
I bloom open

in screaming
colors of
every desire.

Morning dew
paints me ripe
with clarity—

I know I'm
grounded to
worm-riddled soil

without sense;
my venture
is compounded.

The lore of
flowers is
misconstrued,

so I grow
in sunlight
amicably.
Britt Swann Apr 2019
Grass grows greener
Air smells cleaner
          After the rain sanitizes the earth;

Heart beats higher
Smile grows wider
          After the tears sanitize the soul.
Britt Swann Aug 2018
As the aeroplane
flies across the moon
I have a picture of you
in my mind.

Just like the red light
blinking lazily 'gainst the blue,
my heart is calling
my futile sense blind.

When you grin so easily
you have me shaking
like a falling, frail leaf
in a spring-green breeze;

On a night like this
I just want your hand in mine,
and we'll stargaze while love
plays us like piano keys.

The cry of the wind
soothes the ache
of all this urban living
that draws at our last lust.

Dreams that are feathery
and eyes perceiving all I am within,
shall we stare at the constellations
until our bones are dust?
Britt Swann Sep 2018
As midnight embers simmered in the lowlight of the moon,
Guarded by the Gypsies was his ancient, mystic rune.
I flew between the shadows, silence kept me well.
Fabled was his presence, for long ago he fell.

Stilled in Aegean waters, below Poseidon's tide,
I found him resting gently, his beauty struck my pride.
Spectral was this muse who came to me each night,
His grief hooked me deeply, besotted with his plight.

Freedom banished ever long, the eons called to me,
Yet I could not risk the chance to set him free.
Golden light emitted forth, his lips were upon mine,
Softly, "I'm sorry," then I was shackled to the brine.

And as the waves rocked me safely to sleep,
Forever embalmed in the quiet, bluish deep,
My tears carried to the surface my last mortal thought:
Thus depleted of hope, with love hence fraught.
Britt Swann Mar 2019
Pretty face against the snow;
Innocence in morning dew;
Sunlight in warm, gold eyes;
I know that sweet death was you.

Coffin among pine roots,
Gilded of oak wisdom;
A white rose beside a grave,
Throne for your soul's kingdom.

Cheeks are glass cherries;
Lips of Aurora's light.
Time is timeless to frosted beauty
As you sleep away eternal night.

Beneath those slumbering lids
Jewels are satin ire,
The sharpest, natural emerald;
But you cannot hear the lyre.

He sings your poison lament
In night and waning day;
Such beauty never buried,
As was the Seven's way.
Britt Swann Sep 2018
Criminal—
these insecurities
in a star-rush infusion
of light and heat.

Self-philosophy—
I am a black hole
consuming all feeling—
engulfing too much.

Twinkling—
A fading dwarf
circulating confusion
as I fade into nothingness.

Self-healing—
Oxygen deprivation
numbs the mind;
thus heart and soul.

I am a spacefarer
without her spacesuit—
open to all elements;
no second skin.
Britt Swann Mar 2019
Up above—there—that deepest, darkest sea,
those candles carry our history;
Like paper lanterns released to sea
To guide wayward souls on their journey.

The world has an end, of this I am sure;
Thus we seek to stretch ourselves to that shore;
Clouds and trees, all sparkling things are pure,
and there rests Heaven's enchanting allure.

Them stars winking and glitt'ring about,
they know not of this mortal's doubt.
But should they never do so without,
I'll never know myself inside out.

Beneath expansive, ingrained philosophies
the ignorant are stranded out at sea.
Left to believe in broken philosophies
while floating amid inorganic debris.
Britt Swann Jul 2020
Blinking in the balmy breeze
Beneath the old oak tree,
Signs of summer sunlight found
Winking back at me.

Just when dusk begins to break
And the crickets sing in tune,
Little flashes of mysteries
Appear like the July moon.

Scurrying out to join the fun
With my Mason jar in hand,
Any twinkle sought tonight
Will be in high demand.

Pinch their tails without regret,
For they will regrow,
Then place them on the flower ring
And admire them while aglow.

Floating like the stars above,
Little fireflies burning bright,
Come dance and play with us
Until it's time to bid good-night.
Britt Swann Oct 2018
The bounty of their love
    Was lost far at sea.
Her tears drained to the sand;
Siren sang deceitfully.

Sails came and went each tide;
    Waves crawled to the shore.
The lit lantern flickered;
Siren sang of love's war.

So with mermaids he sleeps—
    Bound skyward; below.
His love pines for brine depths.
Siren sang death and woe.
Britt Swann Oct 2019
August awakens drowsily.
The midnight fog exhales
dim, dewy drops of golden shadows.
Lines of mystic beauty
steal through the boulders
of the mountain ruins.
Written about waves,
which take softly of the world;
Poets rise to the quiet rim—
Rosemary chambers of death
are universal upon the valley.
Verses of treetop sonnets
fall into the bards' graves;
From moon's gentle breast,
musically wrapping love vapor
beneath her brightness;
And the lady sleeps with
loving lies where rhymes gently rest.
Britt Swann Aug 2018
The nights I have gazed
   to the black shore and back
the stars, themselves, appraised
   the worth of the black.

To sail solar flares
   and to ride without wings
among the sparkling heirs
   we are mere fledgelings.

How errant I am
   to seek cloudy castles.
Across dark skies I swam
   to meet the battles,

Only to be late
   with my compass at hand.
It was clearly a stalemate
   upon the land.

What Man in the Moon—
   What Spirit of the Night—
Could make a cricket croon?
   Or claim the starlight?

So shall I never
   know who hung the moon up
'til sweet death endeavors
   or until sunup.

The willowy wind
   sends my thoughts to the sky;
And the Moon simply grins
   from his perch up high.

Who hung the moon?
   Who hung the moon?

— The End —