_love poem to myself since no one else has bothered write one_
woman I love you best in the mornings coming
out of your vivid dreams, before the day has put
her claws in you and everything is still possibility.
woman I love you much, your thoughts mischievous
darting fish seeking to nip at whatever silly narrative
mediocre charlatans are trying to convince you of.
woman I love you alone while you are wearing holes
in the floor, delirious with words, fevers of deliberation
swinging you from one pole to the next, mouthing
the sounds you are shaping into songs and singing.
woman I love you dancing happy dances half naked
on the kitchen floor, tip-toed moves, black hair flying.
when doldrums come knocking, when the empty places
are humming their despair, know I forever love you best.
_phoenix & withdrawals_
this isn’t love
this is a blanket
made of skin,
as cold as me to
wrap myself in
and wait for
Today is Tuesday, which means two prompts.
First prompt: Write a love poem.
Second prompt: Write an anti-love poem.
Simple as that.
Oh COME ON! If were only as simple as that. We wouldn't be here, would we? Give me a break.
A few days ago after posting my poems on facebook I had a couple of suggestions that I should write poems that weren't as sad. Looking back since that request I realize I've swung from sad and vulnerable to sarcastic and angry. Well, there is a healthy observation about myself. Maybe because I am such a happy faced person in real action life that I keep all those other emotions in and when the poesia comes they are a flood. Who knows?
A black widow spider dropped down out of my spice cabinet yesterday. I had no repellant so I had to Febreze it to death. Now my kitchen smells heavily of "meadows and rain" which now smells like death to me.
Nude as the News