Grandma
I finger the intricate stitches
of love remembered and worn.
Dusk of time crawls through
windows of my soul
in silver shaded hours.
Silhouette of her love lingers,
darkness of night lifts
as bathed moonlight fills
chambers of my heart.
I sift her spirit through
hourglasses of faded time,
embracing her image
as I rock solemnly
in her worn rocking chair.
Fresh jasmine of her scent
soothes my skin.
Tears no longer line
my brittle heart
as I gather the love
inside her shadow.
Fragmented echoes
hear the bell
of final call.
He Loves Me
Eight legs. Each counted, gingerly. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. Last, the body. He loves me. I place him gently in the tank I have for him. It's filled with all the fauna of his native land. It's important he's comfortable. There's a small branch there. Currently, he hides behind it. My boy is shy, just like the Pointer Sisters sing. The tune hums in my head, almost involuntarily. I show him the fly then. Grasped between tweezers. It's important the fly be alive. He likes it that way. I lay the fly gently in it's tank. "You're welcome!"
Pressed files (Case No. 747)
I'm fixing a hole,
revealing my soul,
born from the roots- long past.
A self pit prophecy,
trapped, full of blood in rivalry.
The destroyer, disguised-
pinned across her heroine's chest.
Protection has worn the necessity,
on engraved fissures of heredity.
I sift across pages held; listed
on internal bookshelves, to turn to,
in, and against myself. Looking deep-
a search of remedy. Amongst this distortion (eventually) I find my pain in burrows,
to suppress what lies within
my spurious trench. A reaction- I jump in.
Feet take off, to sudden delusions
of certainty. Protective possessions
are hit broadside~ I discover them
furled up, obsessively tight.
Sources of deception; in review,
I reveal that tripped reality
under classified sheets; exposing
the browbeaten-double-dealers
in bullet vests. The fervent heat
blisters my chest. I feel it knocking, an unwanted guest. Have you guessed?
You would be surprised....
it's the No. 1 cause of homocide.
Charged with instincts, can
attack at risk. Except, in a case-
every pat down and frisk,
it solves one; the crime
reveals the damage done. And still, regrettably lurking. All genes aside,
let the blood dry. I must remember,
it's more assumption than a bearer of deed.
A villain's contortion; but
who planted the seed?
~Jessi (poem)
#freeverse
#funwithrhyme
“Hand In Hand”
Out of the blue
The Universe led me to you
Through trials and tears
Through all these hard years
You were worth the wait
Lonely nights and heart break
My soul is set free
I now smile and breathe
My heart beats for no one
other than you
Every day I will prove this
to be true
With every word you speak
Deeper in us I sink
TWO hearts now beat as ONE
My soulmate had come
As we walk hand in hand
I'm forever your delicate lady
Your forever my handsome man
Death in the Afternoon
I drink a cocktail of moonlight.
Steep the canyons,
oh so neat.
Left behind a pony~
short legs (about 4),
lug'n its cargo~
still, I'll take the rail
on the rocks,
or I'll be fixing with
Death in the Afternoon.
Straight up, and
stemmed with intentions.
Drenched in dark.
I'm reach'n for my limit,
in a twist
I hear the free flow'n falls;
sip it up,
take it in.
Still~ my usual,
I stay dry; bit fashioned.
But here in this moment,
I'll just drink another cocktail of moonlight.
~Jessi (poem and image)
#nightdwellers #beginningline
#freeverse
#playonwords
If Only It Were Love
They sat there silently for a few moments. He stared at the space between them. She was only inches away but he knew that he couldn’t reach her. He wanted to say something, needed to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. Anything he said would be too little, too late. The space between them felt infinite. Suddenly she grabbed his hand in her smaller one and laid them in the center of the stone bench, a bridge connecting the two. He quickly looked first at their entwined hands, and then up into her face. She had once been beautiful. Golden brown eyes and skin, dark, untamed hair, and a lively expression that left an impression that was not quickly forgotten. She was a shadow of that woman. He could not bring himself to look at her, her skin now pale and sickly, her hair matted, her eyes full of pain. “I want you,” she said in a soft, hushed voice. His eyes widened in shock, but he still couldn’t look into hers. He was afraid of what he would see there. Or maybe of what she would find in his. “I want you to be the reason I wake up in the morning, because tomorrow isn’t enough anymore.” And this, more than anything else she’d said, terrified him. He knew that when she had talked about it before she wouldn’t actually go through with it. She was too ambitious, had too many dreams. She was living in the hope that a brighter tomorrow was around the corner. And now that too was gone. He looked up. She was staring at him as though he was her anchor to this world. Her eyes met his and he saw an all-consuming sadness. So much goddamn sadness. Her eyes bore into his, searching for answers to unasked questions. Answers that he couldn’t give. He glanced down again at her hand wrapped around his. When had it become so fragile? A flick and it would crumple. She had once been the strongest person he knew. He made as to hold her wrist in his hand, and then saw the scars. She jerked her hand away and hid it in her pocket, staring him down. Daring him to mention it. Perhaps she had just been strong for too long. He turned back to her eyes. Her heart wrenching eyes. He looked past her at Ethan, who was animatedly telling a story to a few friends, and their eyes met. No, he didn’t love her. But he would still hold her while she cried, comfort her when it seemed the whole world had turned its back on her. He knew that there were some wounds that would never heal, scars that you could never possibly see, but he also knew that she was broken and he wanted to help fix her, help her because he knew that she couldn’t help herself. She saw his answer in his eyes and something resembling a smile flickered across her face. He loved her enough to believe that if saving her meant sacrificing his own happiness he would do it in a heartbeat.
Enlightenment
Knowledge opens the shards
of frozen ice to reveal reason why
mind is helplessly chained to wall,
unleashes boundaries from pen -
a new awakening of amber glow
as sun filters mind breaking shackles,
opening up knowledge to consume
the ancient stones, infancy of truths.
Abandoned harmony of life threads dance
kneeling in balance of life bursting forth
like ripe, dripping peaches of wisdom,
resonating on night wind – savage possession
kindled with pain and pleasure entwined,
budding wisdom and time-worn realities,
maze of verity cursed by thirst of all-knowing
reaching for promise in distant starlit skies,
yearning to share bounty of far flung vistas.
Knowledge drives wisdom on wings of fancy,
breathing beneath tangled debris of mind
following different roads to same destination,
fulfilling fiery wishes of uncloaked secrets.
Mystery is disguised by masks of seeking
the bruises of battle scars leading the way,
cherished thoughts of enlightenment unlock
puzzles of mind, opening clear view to lost images.
Windows of light glimmer throughout the denseness,
healing begins and filters through opening mind,
a cocoon awakening to that which you seek
in moonlit sonatas sharing what is meant to be.
Knowledge is not about learning alone but sharing
wisdom imparted in simplicity before submitting
to the mindless grave, watching knowledge march on.
Vertigo - Why I Write
Addicted to
writing,
I shake poetry
out of my sleeves.
Drunk with
celestial parade
of shiny words,
tumbling into
rising sun,
praying to
the muse hiding
behind me
in black voids
of rejection.
Time down drain
of moneyless pit,
coded language
that only writers
understand.
Roaring visions
and echoes
resonating,
seeing the world
from my perspective
without winning
or losing.
Mood changing
poetry therapy
polished trances
as I crave
the high
that only writing
can bring.
I drink of it
deeply in
vertigo
of love.
Under the Bar Lights
You're dressed to the nines
Suit and tie
Complete with
your Audemars Piguet
You swear that
you're what I need
Don't kid yourself baby
We both know
I'm here for the drinks
You're talking
and I'm humming
along to one of his
blacklisted love songs
in my head
You don't know the
first thing about me
Yet you're looking
into my soul like you've
known me for years
Pour your heart
in my glass
so I can force it down
with my sorrows
You're complimenting
my dress
But I'm back in a diner
with a mystery man
and we're dancing
to the tune playing
from the jukebox
The new drink in front of me
snaps me back to reality
Where I'll down
another few rounds
before I get into your car
and let you waltz me
up the stairs at
an ungodly hour
and slam the door
in your face