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Literature Text
The embers we ignited
Contrasted nostalgic nights
Like a chiaroscuro masterpiece
Bleeding from Picasso's
Brush. You kissed me as if
I was your only source of oxygen,
And you were dying to live.
The air was nebulous
And thick. Even the
Fireflies found it difficult
To maintain steady
Illumination in the muddled
Midnight— Their luminosity
Evanescent and short-lived
As their frail lives.
Down deep in the bowels
Of affection, in the diamond mines
Of love, we uncovered a
Friendship that shone brighter
Than the very sun itself.
Tell me Love, when you pass by,
Do the sunflowers follow?
Contrasted nostalgic nights
Like a chiaroscuro masterpiece
Bleeding from Picasso's
Brush. You kissed me as if
I was your only source of oxygen,
And you were dying to live.
The air was nebulous
And thick. Even the
Fireflies found it difficult
To maintain steady
Illumination in the muddled
Midnight— Their luminosity
Evanescent and short-lived
As their frail lives.
Down deep in the bowels
Of affection, in the diamond mines
Of love, we uncovered a
Friendship that shone brighter
Than the very sun itself.
Tell me Love, when you pass by,
Do the sunflowers follow?
Literature
Fifty
Please understand: I do not want
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
Literature
What Soft Dreams
What soft dreams we lay -
What soft dreams, like infants put to rest -
Frightfully bare, and compromised,
Our kisses on their breasts.
We close our eyes and trust them safe,
Kept 'til break of dawn -
Forgetting that the night is fickle,
And dutifully, as long -
It safeguards some,
Covets others,
Moved by neither coin nor threat
Nor anguished mother's cry.
Literature
bitter hug of mortality
so you sit there,
your awkward little hands folding awkward little birds,
as if you could inhale your own paper wings.
so you sit there,
and you think
about you watching the people and the people
not watching you.
and i whisper darling,
darling the only thing you're good for
is reading walt whitman out loud
to your used-to-be-white walls
until your throat chips, and your eyes dust over.
and you just shift your weight
and shake your head
like something
buzzed in your ear.
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1.12.13
I'd like some feedback on this… Was it a hit-and-miss? Was the contrast of light and dark cool or lame?
I'd like some feedback on this… Was it a hit-and-miss? Was the contrast of light and dark cool or lame?
© 2013 - 2024 ThomasInTheClouds
Comments14
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I think the first stanza is my favorite with that gorgeous imagery. "Bleeding from Picasso's Brush" is just an amazing image to me. Love it. I liked the contrast between light and dark, really driven home for me with the lines about fireflies. 