A wise, wobbling, albino queen
envelopes bobbling clod,
a cannibalized runway
ultimately, of course.
But since the man
break the rules today,
like the wonky skin
stuck in the tape that holds together.
Get off!
Floating,
the flow.
For the rest, they sink,
eager to fly away.
This blog started as a way to share poems that I had written and some that I had found along the way. Now as my interests are changing I'm using it as a way to share and document recipes that I create. Peace, love, and respect. Enjoy :)
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Memory (A found poem)
You are trivial
and winning the game.
Comes down to one question,
you rack your brain.
Fundamental processes come into play,
unable to recall,
unable to retain.
A momentary flash of lightening,
a twig snapping,
the sting of a pinprick,
echoic --
less than a second.
Sensory, sensory, sensory.
Presentation, pattern, progressively,
this decline
could not be recalled at all --
less than a second.
A snapshot
destroyed and replaced
with a new one.
and winning the game.
Comes down to one question,
you rack your brain.
Fundamental processes come into play,
unable to recall,
unable to retain.
A momentary flash of lightening,
a twig snapping,
the sting of a pinprick,
echoic --
less than a second.
Sensory, sensory, sensory.
Presentation, pattern, progressively,
this decline
could not be recalled at all --
less than a second.
A snapshot
destroyed and replaced
with a new one.
Haiku #5
My shadow vibrates,
against stationary earth,
shakes with energy. --
against stationary earth,
shakes with energy. --
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Dear Clarence
Dear Clarence,
I always wondered how
with such a pretty name
you're not a figment of my life.
You know how I like to
collect pretty things:
bunnies, buttons. . .
people with cool names.
Alas, I've never met a Clarence,
Goodnight.
I always wondered how
with such a pretty name
you're not a figment of my life.
You know how I like to
collect pretty things:
bunnies, buttons. . .
people with cool names.
Alas, I've never met a Clarence,
Goodnight.
ill
My skin is pale
white like milk
translucent like parchment.
My veins and bruises
a vibrant blue
spotting and streaking my arms and legs.
My flesh is soft
bloated and bulging
the puffiness of illness.
My eyes sink into deep holes
dark circles and swollen lids
my cheeks crimson with fever against a chalky complexion.
white like milk
translucent like parchment.
My veins and bruises
a vibrant blue
spotting and streaking my arms and legs.
My flesh is soft
bloated and bulging
the puffiness of illness.
My eyes sink into deep holes
dark circles and swollen lids
my cheeks crimson with fever against a chalky complexion.
Haiku #4
Please don't disappear
for when I open my eyes
please still be right here. --
for when I open my eyes
please still be right here. --
Haiku #2
I am on a boat,
floating and drifting in space,
and you kiss my face. --
floating and drifting in space,
and you kiss my face. --
Haiku #1
Lying in the grass,
a bug buzzes near my head,
I wait till it leaves. --
a bug buzzes near my head,
I wait till it leaves. --
Paper dolls
If no one cares
while I exist
why should the care
if i simply ceased.
Like paper dolls
blowing in the wind
infront of you
one moment
and blown away from you
the next
so why would it be
such a crime
to simply stop
blowing
in the
wind?
while I exist
why should the care
if i simply ceased.
Like paper dolls
blowing in the wind
infront of you
one moment
and blown away from you
the next
so why would it be
such a crime
to simply stop
blowing
in the
wind?
And If You Care
I have a puzzle piece
inside my shoe.
And I trample it
when I walk to you.
I put a flower in my hair
because I knew the wind
would find it there.
The sun and sky will make us free.
If you wait
and let things be
chances are
the elfs will come to play
and if you care
with you I'll stay.
inside my shoe.
And I trample it
when I walk to you.
I put a flower in my hair
because I knew the wind
would find it there.
The sun and sky will make us free.
If you wait
and let things be
chances are
the elfs will come to play
and if you care
with you I'll stay.
Bird Song
(to be edited)
The soft sway of a branch bending beneath
the feet of a sparrow sounding the morning
with its tweeting, a shrill whistle of another
bird's chirp chirp chirping.
The sun rises to their tune, fly away and
the branches swoon from the wind that
wines at the flap of their wing.
And the bird sing as it passes overhead, its
song soothing, a noise of nature's lyrics sung
in sweet sweeing.
The soft sway of a branch bending beneath
the feet of a sparrow sounding the morning
with its tweeting, a shrill whistle of another
bird's chirp chirp chirping.
The sun rises to their tune, fly away and
the branches swoon from the wind that
wines at the flap of their wing.
And the bird sing as it passes overhead, its
song soothing, a noise of nature's lyrics sung
in sweet sweeing.
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