| In a desperate attempt at avoiding my "semester" goal of writing a new novel, I've decided to dabble in poetry...Feel free to offer criticism at will. Mwah! |
| Beamless January 16, 2002 I always felt his presence was so clearly valued over mine, although we entered your life at the very same moment. His joys solemnized and commemerated, mine dismissed, unthroned. Was it because my ideas of art and voice neglected to yield assent to the tried and true mold? My most sublime masterstroke beamless within an ace of his evanescent despatch. His exclaimed, mine inarticulated, as if the clouds percolate Godiva when he speaks and disgourge vinegar at the parting of my lips I stand before you, open-armed while he strays miles out of reach. The leash is always loosest on the expendible dog. Beamless still, I decamp my chain and, moldless passion intact, I run east. |
| Riddance January 17, 2002 It's high time I began thanking every higher power in existance for your departure from my life. A throe that chafed what has since been elsewhere bequeathed with a solicitude your embrace never evoked. |
| Malcontent January 25, 2002 An era seemingly passed far from a fortnight since I left your arms. The latitude between us an unscalable longenquity. An unpledged vow prematurely relinquished. I recoil to the reverberating emotions I had finally ensconced. And nestle, repining in our near-tenantless, overly-capacious refectory. |
| Wings February 4, 2002 We are baptised into this convoluted lack-of-culture And ushered forthwith into the dogma That there are angels all around us, Holding us in a guilded embrace. As we morph toward adolescence, We create angels of those around us. We imagine our mothers, haloed, Plumose wings spread wide as a seaworthy horizon. Our allies accompanying on marble-carved harps In joyous requiem that chime The symphonic soundtracks of our lives. As we are dragged into adulthood We see the wings our fathers bear begin to molt Until they seem no more grandiose than granules. Once silver-toned melodies of companionship turn tuneless Before they turn a deaf ear toward us. And we are left, unaccompanied, To resurrect their wings in our memories. |
| Poetry for the Poet February 10, 2002 Our first few years as once-a-month companions, Spent curiously contemplating the meaning behind our moods, Like first-grade, refrigerator paintings, Across the aisle on a Bowing Or while cozying up to others In a double-bed hotel room, Seemed no more than faded memories Once upon an end-of-summer night of debauchery. I came to see a friend and left Wanting more or less the opposite of friendship, Wanting the romanticism of uniqueness To extend beyond the standard few weeks I’ve grown accustomed to. Now I don’t know what I want from you Or from me for that matter Save a little acknowledgement And maybe a motivator for the animosity I feel. But what I do know is this: I could never write poetry for the poet. It didn’t seem you’d feel the need to read Past the first few failed attempts at greatness Toward the midpoint Where I tread water in a babbling brook of incoherentness Otherwise known as my feelings On the subject of us. |
| At Two in the Morning April 3, 2002 I want to waltz, enveloped in you, Your warm breath grazing my cheek As you whisper lyrics off-tune but on target For the air that hangs indefinitely between us. I want to watch the sun awaken reluctantly through sheer, satin window treatments, sweet smelling and salty, intertwined and exhausted. I want to sit midday across a teeming room That ever-present impish grin lightly on your lips As we lock eyes And crave twilight. I want to wake up More exhausted than I went to bed And call in sick to recover Only to repeat the pattern again. I want to laugh with you At our individual faux pas, And accept them as "us" And move on. I want to plan a future Somewhere far away from where I sit That eliminates the term "semester" From our correlated vocabulary. I want to have relieve this burning need To write angst-filled words Praying for weariness At two in the morning. |
| More words this way |
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