Tag Archives: #heart

FERTILE SOIL

if i had two hearts;
one for your soul
the other for your beauty

if i were a farmer
i would tend to a garden
and gather today’s eggs

  but as a broken-hearted
  poetry i till words – so
  excuse me;  

you see, i am not here
nor there — and the worse
feeling is planting Love

and nothing Grows.

:: 09.17.2020 ::


A PALE SOFTISH ROUND COFFIN

A PALE SOFTISH ROUND COFFIN

SKIN can make me cry as roses. Scents of a female? for i do forget
spoken clearly; i am not afraid of death but life.. to have control
means relenting focus for a perfect soul. my questions are purely
my own as though if i ask, ‘what has become of you?’ the world may
never know but i am here. my heart is a shape of a pale softish
round coffin yet to be buried within your mind.

:: 09.17.2020 ::


NEVER

TO never solve miracles of science
TO never have crawled out of a c–ave
somber thoughts
although some are a blessing
to a curse
some ensure military solutions
never understood words : but if
i ever lose my love | IF i ever lose
my Faith …my faith in you |
come home with me…that i may fill
my arms with you.

:: 08.07.2020 ::


GIANT rabbit

the giant RABBIT stood staring at my shoes (of
all things) . I cleared me voice, “Hello mister GIANT
rabbit…” its whiskers twitching.
The air was thicker than gossamer and a faint hint
of ethereal music over the hills, over the clouds and
the tears of my delight.
Finally (as I was holding my own breath) the giant RABBIT
spoke:
“Do you like celery?” without hesitation i said,
“Yes oh yes, of course!” I followed and eventually
ate many acres of not just celery but carrot.”

:: 07.25.2020 ::


BLOOMING ARTIST (whore)

for the true artist — art is bifurcated
into many brilliant pebbles of expression
     and many will hate you for it___smear
your work deeply within their heels –>
& tell the kids you are the devil.
    Say again?
       wait until i whip
the tar from my pants
(she was brought up religiously
silly-like)  i cannot wait
to play guitar!   Oh say release
the stress of any shooting star
— where is the one /sometimes
in winter\mostly within the sun
  we go.    hate to leave but the moon
comes (like a kid) over the terminus
of Earth.  

:: 07.23.2020 ::


THE EAR I NIBBLED

precis give me a life-line
and off my mind
waiting and hoping academia
will come back — waiting,
flooding tears all along
university walls:
i wait
cry
and hoping you’ll come back.

(what? a precis for every
poem? Okay)

:: 07.21.2020 ::


POLYGON

Polly gone
oh polygon
what quadri-
laterals you
possess!

two-dimensional
(go) figure made
up of straight sides
(besides myself)
oh Polly’s gone
prolly so i still see
your shadows within
my head but full fleshed
within my beating heart

is why Polly’s gone
oh polygon what quadri-
laterals you possess!

:: 07.21.2020 ::


EMBERS & STONE

EVERY night of every day i take my love to bed
yea; Leave my heart upon the
dinner plate for the cold
, oh ;
at night its must worse
oh how these lonely tears
fall away screaming
all within silence
So I ask God, “what do i do?”
and listen to the song of
a bird dying each note
all within the long-time
backyard inside my head___
so i’m coming Home now: no need to leave
my heart upon the alter of pain & sorrow.

:: 07.19.2020 ::


OVER BORDERS OVER FRONTIERS

WITHIN the empire of my love & heart
within all things: so fly and kiss
all i am — within this empire
of visual senses/within all cities\
upon every blade of everglade
all the light all the fun from sun
i say: we are a people worthy of this
–holding out our hands:
upon the desert below the deep blue
ice above the rarest air i feel people
rising within the cities singing:
‘we are a people rising within the world
: a people worth love and care’

‘there is a people worth more than this
so hear me singing — all the angels and
all the devils around us can you see? there
is a people worth more than this who understands’

i say Life is the first gift
love is the second,
and understanding behind compassion

:: 07.16.2020 ::


THIS POET WROTE:

THIS POET WROTE:
while leaves march down an empty alleysuddenly she is barely holding upon the blue skies /of punch red-blue\of a galant southern magnolia sweetand fresh of a sudden burning smellfruit for the fallen souls are we forever together.
far so for father trick of mind/here is a Strange Tale\upon his tomb stone. this POET WROTE
:: 07.13.2020 ::