Poetry of a Conlanger

King-Thief

2007-04-20T17:06:00.001-07:00

I am speechless
At you and your mad, hopeless love for me.

Every word you say is thrilling,
each kiss only makes me fall harder.

I marvel
at your enigmatic perfection--
to tender, so strong;
so shy, so confident;
so sweet, so hard.

And you are perfect--
I will never get enough of you.
Do I say these words lightly?
I think not.

It is you I love, dearest,
It is you I crown king-thief
of my heart.

4/8/07

4/8/07

2007-04-09T18:18:00.000-07:00

Don’t play innocent, love of mine—
You must have done something.
I am possessed by the thought of you,
Obsessed with seeing you again—
I can’t bear this separation!

Pace, pace, back and forth—
Number the days, the hours—
Only a thousand minutes until I can kiss my beloved again!
A thousand?!
That’s one thousand one too many!

My eyes yearn for the sight of him,
My hands, to hold his,
My lips…ohh, would that Time could pass away
Like dew and morning fog;
Pound away like rain until the hour
He holds me once more.

Change (11/6/06)

2006-11-27T13:54:00.000-08:00

“Everything has changed
A thousand times over.”
The butterflies flutter—
Red and gold and cream—
In panic, or excitement?

Now pure brilliance, delicious joy—
Again muted fear, copper anxiety.

Relief should fall on me
In cool flakes.
But instead, confusion reigns
In a gray-blue cloak.

Who or wherefore?
Luck or love?
Red or black,
White or blue?

I am part question,
And You are part answer.

(quote from The Ice Queen by Alice Hoffman)

Orchard (11/20/06)

2006-11-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

The sun rises, putting warmth into my blood.
Now I shiver with hope and anticipation—
But no guarantees yet!

Spend a dollar of time
To get into his majesty’s orchard.
His Majesty,
—one who truly deserves the title—
The stranger I’d hoped to meet.
I can see how much better the trees are, the apples,
How completely happy I would be
To be here all the time.

If I took just one,
Would it be missed?
Just one taste, one mouthful
Of bliss, rich and overwhelming?

I would be addicted, I know—
And I snatch my hand back.

Oh, perfection, perfection,
You’re not for me.

Lust (11/12/06)

2006-11-12T18:28:00.000-08:00

Quickly, quickly,
I hunt for the right actions,
Stumbling over the threshold
Of morality.

No monologues for me, you—
Just short syllables
In the darkness.

Pres up against you,
I feel twisted, dirty,
But oh, oh,
I want this.

My eyes closed,
I still know what I’m doing.
Red cloth, black cloth, pale skin—
Mouths moving, cupping, darting.
Cold wall, rough brick,
Hands in all the right places, feet braced.

Dark stars flashing behind my eyes—
Ah, sweet release,
It is you I’ve wanted all along—
He is just a vessel.

(one of my creepier poems...)

Freewrite (11/9/06)

2006-11-12T18:27:00.000-08:00

The pain?
It’s ashes now,
Replaced by
Newfound confidence
And quirky come-hither looks.

Well, I try.

Sometimes I wonder
That if I believe enough,
It would be true.

Not Very Likely.

Bell to bell to bell,
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Shut up, I tell myself,
But it’s a truly useless exercise.

I mean,
I used to believe in
Destiny,
But now I’m not so sure.

I’d rather be multicolored
Than two-toned, anyways.

Just shrug and smile, folks,
Shrug and smile.

Prism (9/12/06)

2006-09-13T03:12:00.000-07:00

Grin,
Smile,
Throw my head back and laugh
Until tears come to my eyes.

I’m not a fish, belly-up in the river of Life.
I am
A prism, standing on the bank.
Crossing is being alive.
Care to bridge it with me?

Sunflower (9/1/06)

2006-09-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

When you said you were taking the sun away,
I weaned myself off of it,
So where does that leave me?

I’m still a sunflower,
Opening up in your glow.
When you’ve drunk all the tea of love,
The dregs of emotion still remain.

I’ll expose my soul to the elements,
I’ll scour my heart with sand,
But your essence is still part of me.

My first,
How can I ever forget you?

Retitled (6/28/06)

2006-06-28T18:38:00.000-07:00

Whirling,
Turning,
and re-turning
To the beginning.

Form,
Light,
Clarity—
Why so important?

Amorphity,
Shadow,
Blurrings—
Why so intriguing?

Cross-outs and blots,
Rough and messy handwriting—
That’s how life should be.
Save your mistakes; you’ll thank them later.

Moving On (6/24/06)

2006-06-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

Undoing,
Unwhirling,
Unweaving,
Untangling,
Unstrangling—

I’m beginning to breathe again,
Letting go of what happened.
It’s fading into fog,
And I have no desire to snatch it back.

Can I take back what I said?
Can you take back what you did?
No, of course not,
But it’s passing anyways.

Forgetting a lost love is called moving on.

Crown of Roses (6/5/06)

2006-06-05T13:15:00.000-07:00

It’s something simple,
A crown of roses on a Monday morning.

I don it, and suddenly I’m different.
I walk and grin at complete strangers.
Weird looks? I laugh effervescently.
I have a tendency to dance from class to class.
I’m bubbling over with
A confidence I haven’t felt in ages.

I’m the unfolding bud,
The heir to the summer queen-
Who knows what I’ll bloom into?

And you? Oh, take a good look at what you’re missing.
I am ridiculously full of fun,
And I’ll share it generously,
But if you still don’t care—
Well, it’s as simple as the crown I’m wearing:
You lose.
I win.

And I dance away down the path.

Doldrums (5/31/06)

2006-06-03T14:04:00.000-07:00

Stuck here,
In the Doldrums,
That dull valley between loves.

I’m a sailboat
On still, muddy water.
There’s no fresh breeze for me.

I try to get out,
But I’m rowing in circles,
And my oars get caught and lost
In the seaweed.

I’m bored,
And frustrated,
And I want out.

But I have to wait
For a fine, following wind
That can blow me
To a sheltered harbor
Or a sunny lagoon.

Don’t Make Me Hurt You (5/17/06)

2006-06-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

Excuse me, slut,
Who do you think you’re looking at?
No, don’t you even
Dare
Touch him.

That’s right, you heard me.
Keep your filthy hands
To
Yourself,
For a change.

Yeah, I did just slap you.
Don’t try to tell my
You didn’t do that,
Or you’re sorry—
I know it’s a
Waste-of-oxygen
Bullshit.

I am so fucking sick
Of whores and how they
Fuck up
Good people’s lives.

You have the right to remain silent.

Dreams (5/21/06)

2006-06-03T14:02:00.000-07:00

I cried silver tears
Because it was falling to pieces
And couldn’t stop.
I tried,
I tried,
But I couldn’t argue eloquently enough
To stop what he said.

And the tears
Glimmered on my cheek in the moonlight,
Pale and beautiful.
And somehow,
Somehow,
I found peace in this sadness,
A cool hollow where I can rest

The blue of tears.
Wove themselves into a blanket and a basket,
To comfort me and catch what I cried.
And when I’m ready,
When I’m ready,
The blanket will become my wings
So I can fly away.

I Am Leftovers (5/17/06)

2006-05-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

I am leftovers.

I am no longer a whole meal.
Dinner is over;
They saran-wrap me up
Or put me in Tupperware,
And let me sit
Alone, hiding
In the back of the refrigerator

until

All we singles come out
For Leftover Buffet
And try to make
Our disassembled selves
Into a whole meal again.

Just Sad (5/12/06)

2006-05-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

I keep thinking of things to tell you,
But I can’t send them
Down that bond we had;
It’s so faded and fuzzy now—
Dry, cold, thin and weak.

You snapped it,
I cut it in response,
And we both watched it
Dissolve
In a rain of lies and anger.

And I wouldn’t —couldn’t— welcome you again,
But I can’t help but sigh.
We both lost here,
And I wonder how you’re doing,
If you remember me and us,
And if you, too,
Have your miserable moments.

Burnt Bridges (5/13/06)

2006-05-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

You were always a pyromaniac,
But I never thought you’d take it
This far.

Across our short oak bridge,
I see you carrying a box of matches.
You light one,
And drop it onto the bridge between us.
I am stupefied, and so, so hurt—
More so when I see that it’s really cheap pine,
With oak veneer.

I scramble to find water,
But there is none,
So what we had crumbles
Into the abyss as ashy snowflakes,
And the fire spreads.
Our friends’ bridges to you
Are burning,
But you don’t even try to put it out.

You just watch,
And smile,
And show us all a new bridge
—short, shiny, expensive cherrywood—
a bridge to another girl.

I wish I had a flamethrower.

You’re Not Worth My Glances (5/11/06)

2006-05-12T15:35:00.000-07:00

You turned and stabbed me
After kissing me goodbye
While she watched, giggling.

I gasped, shocked,
And slapped you with all my strength.
I readied my fists for a bloody fight-
I’ll give as good as I get.

But a trapdoor gave way beneath my feet,
And I fell,
Cursing you and her alike.

And when I stood up,
I brushed myself off,
spat for good measure,
And walked away.

And I did not look back.

Phantom Seppuku (5/10/06)

2006-05-11T18:51:00.000-07:00

Striding alone,
But feeling halfway decent about life-
A welcome change.

But turn a corner, and
-bam-
it hits me.
There they go, drooling all over each other.
A ghostly hand sticks a serrated knife into my stomach
And twists.

I run as it starts to rain.
He knows it hurts me,
But he does it anyways
(is she that much better than me??)
and there’s nothing I can do about it.

So I run away,
But I can't leave my feelings
-or the knife-
Behind.

Gray (5/7/06)

2006-05-09T12:04:00.000-07:00

Sitting on my bed, the window open,
Listening to music
That reminds me of
A tall, dark-haired youth.

Times like this, it seems so black-and-white.
The older presence fades from memory,
And I wonder at this new confusion.

But zoom in close enough, and even black and white become gray.
Did I love him? Did I?
I remember his heartbeat, brimming emotion,
And never wanting to leave.

But he left with a pale witch
As I stood in the dark with a torch.
Lies, lies, lies- give me a flashlight!

Enter that tall acquaintance with black hair,
Heralded by confusion.
I’d like to say, “I know what he’s doing,”
To say, “He’s doing it for me,”
But I’m back to the state of not knowing at all.
I can’t even trust myself right now;
My motives are too superficial.

I guess Life is never in black and white,
That there’s always a gray area;
The twilight of emotions.

Ça c’est la fin (that’s the end) (5/6/06)

2006-05-08T18:12:00.000-07:00

Disbelief and shock-
No, no, no, that’s not true,
This sour flower isn’t unfolding
In my front yard!
But it is.

Burning with sheer rage-
Not simple anger,
But shaking
With the complete desire to maim or kill.

Her simpering smiles,
Kittenlike protests of innocence.
His lies, false as a mask-
Green nausea burns in my stomach.
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep.

Helplessness,
As his tide goes out to sea without me.
Time, a drug, flashes in and out on a high.
Actions are unstoppable,
And my claustrophobia kicks in.
I want it to stop, but there’s no time,
No time.

And throughout it all,
A sewer-undercurrent
Of undiluted pain,
The pain of betrayal.

Crash and try not to implode.
Let me extrovert this once, please.
Lash out, lash in,
Take one last, long look.

Exhale.

And then I am
Through the fire –la flamme-
Over the hill,
And into the foggy land of coping.

Lone Geographer (5/4/06)

2006-05-08T18:11:00.000-07:00

It’s sad, almost.
I’m back on the map,
Back in charted territory;
That menstrual-like cycle of hope and disappointment.

I was forging ahead,
Writing the geography book of life and love,
Until I fell off the edge of the world,
Meeting sea demons and serpents I hadn’t thought existed.

I wanted you to care,
To help me up over the cliff,
But who was I to say where the world ended?
And if you’re no longer willing
To draw this map with me-
Ink in parchment-
Well, it’s your lost opportunity.
I’ll find someone else.

Dealing (4/29/06)

2006-05-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

I got home and resolutely,
Viciously,
Defiantly,
Turned up the volume.
I dealt.

And now I’m ready to talk to you again,
At least this once.
After, maybe never again,
But who knows?

Thy will be done…
As we forgive those who trespass against us…

Lies are lies,
What’s done is done.
There is nothing to look to
But the future.

Earth Day (4/29/06)

2006-05-02T13:44:00.000-07:00

Still reeling from your blow,
I want to sleep but can’t.

Re-reading my words of happier times,
I want to smile but don’t.

Crushed, shattered, exploded,
Whatever you call it,
It’s still gone.

It flew off the handle and hit the fan,
And the world held its breath,
Shocked into silence
Followed by outrage.

Is there anything worth salvaging?
Should I recycle my emotions
For a greener me?
Am I just a compost heap after all?

Catapult

2006-04-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

Now that our glass is shattered
And the water is running everywhere,
I am angry.

In this filthy dump where you put me,
(were you forced to?)
I am livid.
I built a catapult out of bits and pieces,
Even a shard of that glass.
Broken trust, crumpled hope, torn love.

And my anger pushes me out of the dump,
And I am alive,
But your eyes are sad
In the mirror.

What happened to us??

Truly Fluent (4/9/06)

2006-04-11T16:29:00.000-07:00

Closer, closer, closer-
Under darkness mixed with shadow
Down to minute factions of mind,
We pull closer.

Butterflies gather and swarm-
Unpredictable as wind,
Wonderful as sugar.

Sipping slowly at first,
Then letting go and drinking
To the brim until
We are both drunk.

I can feel sparks-
Flashing, exploding, making
Electric contact between us.

Withdraw slightly,
And hurry back for more,
But oh, oh, oh-
The butterflies remain!

My Games are Unbroken (3/29/06)

2006-03-30T12:44:00.000-08:00

There’s more than misery to life.

Kneeling and collecting the pieces,
Sweeping them together,
Digging the odd few out of a crack in the floorboards,
I put together that old, broken puzzle;
And the full picture unfurls itself,
Vibrant and clear at last.

Move to the table to collect
Kings, queens, knaves, and fools all:
Rebuilding my house of cards,
Sheltering it from the wind
And persevering through sighs.
The ace of spades I tuck in my pocket, close to me.
I don’t want to lose it ever again.

Glance at the pick-up sticks,
Restack them and see their colors truly,
But then put them on the shelf.
I don’t need them today, or tomorrow,
Maybe not ever again.

Stand and walk to the window
And open it,
Letting the hopeful scent of spring
Into this sunny room.

And finally, finally
I smile.
My games are unbroken.

Yes, this poem is supposed to be read with Broken Games, as a reverse:

Broken Games (12/11/05)

If I had a closed box earlier,
Now I fear the puzzle pieces are spilled.
Watch me,
And feel free to laugh
As I scrabble to pick them up
Off the cold hardwood floor,
Knowing it’s a lost cause.

Watch it all,
As my card house tumbles down
And away in a tornado,
Never to be regained.
The last card to go is my ace of spades.

And last, there the pick-up sticks
Clatter to the floor,
A mockery of color.
Did they slip from my hand,
Or did I drop them?

Glass Dancing (3/20/06)

2006-03-21T16:57:00.000-08:00

A gentle thudding,
A softness seeping through the air,
Slowly slowly moving in tune
With the beat of desire.

It’s not a smile in your eyes,
Nor mine, I’m sure.
Just a sensual surety
That everything is where it should be,
From our intertwined hands
To the dust on the floor.

A sudden noise,
And our moment,
Like so much glass,
Is shattered with a crash and murmur of voices.
Impossible to salvage,
Let it lie and take only memories,
Tiny shards among the dust.
Leave the glass as a sparkling reminder
To draw us in again
Next time.

Heat Ripples (3/7/06)

2006-03-10T12:02:00.000-08:00

Heat ripples linger in the doorway,
Invisible but present,
Infusing the air with warm colors:
Scarlet and pomegranate-melon and gold,
Exploding a fusion of cinnamon and passion
Into the young lives standing there.

It’s warm here, inside with you.
Outside is cold and lonely,
And I hate walking away from you.
I don’t want either of us to leave,
Not now, not ever.

Holding hands until the last second,
Delaying a goodbye kiss as long as we can,
We will linger here in this doorway,
Here with the ever-ephemeral heat ripples.

Sugarsnow (2/16/06)

2006-02-21T19:09:00.000-08:00

I sat down with a blank piece of paper
In a blank book
And began to write.

And somewhere, amongst the
Thoughts and images,
I began to float away.
Amid the hopeful notes of the piano
And the current of the violins,
I flew.

Swept away by newness,
Pulling hope from hope,
Pouring wine from water
And drinking deep until
I couldn’t hold any more happiness.

And when the time was over,
When I had drifted down
And finished the last sentence,
I didn’t weep for flight long-past.
I laughed with a smile, because
The piano and violins
Continued to play on
In my heart.

Ebb (2/11/06)

2006-02-16T18:53:00.000-08:00

One way or the other,
Tears must leave.

Walking ebbs away sorrow.
No matter how slowly,
It drains out, returning
Grief to mother earth,
Nourishing tired ground.

Sitting and thinking,
Walking circles in my head,
Will push tears out of my eyes
In a wave,
A childish rainstorm.

Tides come and go,
Seasons pass,
Snow melts and tress sprout.
Water flows into the ground.

I love you now,
And I will love you while I walk,
While I think,
While I cry.

I know.
Shh...I know.

Summer (2/3/06)

2006-02-13T17:59:00.000-08:00

The bank of the river of emotion
Is beautiful.
Friendly noon sun warming
Pale stones under my bare feet,
With yellow birches and
Dark evergreens whispering
While the river murmurs a song.

I want to jump in;
See how deep my river is,
Then let the current carry me
Until we meet as tributaries
And blend together.

Wait (1/29/06)

2006-02-08T19:01:00.001-08:00

Wait.
Wait for the inspiration,
Wait for the words
To describe this,
Whatever it may be named.

This fresh breathlessness,
The new ring in my laughter,
The sparkle to the world,
These wings on my heart...

Sometimes I wonder if it’s too good to be true.

But then I’ll look over my shoulder
And see you,
Reflected in a mirror only we can see,
And I’ll know
That I’m not alone
After all.

Wait

2006-02-08T19:01:00.000-08:00

Summer

2006-02-03T18:14:00.000-08:00

~

2006-02-03T12:06:00.000-08:00

When you ask, “how are you?”
With a hug,
I will say “just tired,”
With a smile
Because I’m not in a bad mood
Anymore.

Colon Hyphen Asterisk

2006-01-22T11:07:00.000-08:00

Hanging on the edge,
My pulse in my legs
And my heart on my lips.

Right now, I couldn’t move if I tried.

And then I am free again,
Moving by some yearning force
Long-forgotten.

All hesitation gone,
We are the only people in the room.

A moment of contact

And my hopes take flight.

Tear the River

2006-01-15T18:26:00.000-08:00

Time is a river.
Flowing smoothly, evenly, calmly
Before the rains, now
It rushes, thunders, stampedes,
And I can do nothing
But breathe as
I am tumbled through the
Demanding current.

Yet when even breathing becomes too much,
I can sleep,
Only to have my peaceful, even thoughtlessness
Sharply interrupted by
A screeching alarm clock.

How dare it destroy my only timeless minutes!

rip the cord out, hurl it across the room

break down sobbing.

Fluent

2006-01-15T18:25:00.000-08:00

My tongue tripping fluently over
Words full of richness,
My mouth twisting to
Sip the diamond water,
My lips waiting.

My arms moving gracefully to twine
Around the ribboned water,
My mind comprehending the
Glorious impossibilities veined through life.

Pulling the blankets closer,
I recall the golden honey
That ran in my veins
When you were here.

Light frames my windowshade
At midnight,
Startling a thousand dust motes
Into sparkling life.

I bolt upright with
A sudden knowing:

Somewhere,
It is snowing.

Young Poet

2006-01-15T18:24:00.000-08:00

I have power
In the elegance of eloquence.

Thoughtful words
Meandering on a page,
Or vivid imagery
Sprawling over paper.

I wield a pencil
To scribble a fading thought,
To capture a cherished moment,
To reminisce and muse.

I brandish a pen
To reinvent that thought,
To immortalize the moment,
To publish my musings.

I live to write,
Though perhaps someday
I will write to live.

A Shiver Was Here

2006-01-15T18:23:00.000-08:00

(Jan 06 magnetic poetry calendar)

Would love shine from this night
Between smiles?
As it does,
Keep that cloud for us;
I can believe through rain.

Melting with him
Collecting gold honey-light…

Fall on darkness
Spin to gray
Crash.

Let me dream,
Cry,
Grow.

Then I will dance
In the fresh, appley morning.
Moving from child to woman is hard,
But She has the day
And remembers flight.

Syrup

2006-01-15T18:22:00.000-08:00

There’s a kind of euphoria
That comes with this weakness.

I’d far rather breathe this
Smooth molasses air
Than any brittle slew of particles.

I’d have this singing honey
Swim through my veins everyday
Instead of coarse, sloppy blood.

I’d gladly melt like sugar
In this warm daze
Rather than be alert and caffeinated.

When walking becomes a dance,
Yet I struggle to move something
Other than my racing heart,
I know
That the hue of the world has changed
Simply because you’re here.

Brand New CD

2005-12-23T15:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve decided not to let it slow me down.
So you don’t care?
Hey, your loss.

I’m cranking the volume
On a brand new cd.
I dare you to watch me dance
To my own tune;
I dare you to meet me on my terms,
Not yours.
I’m cooler than you’d ever imagine-
You would’ve found out if
I’d had a chance.

But now you’re the porter.
It’s not my emotional baggage anymore.

Tonight I’m smiling,
Confident and übersexy.

I just have one thing to say:
Sucks to be you.

Lesson

2005-12-20T19:08:00.000-08:00

Things never turn out the way you dream.
Even when they’re not busy
Exploding you,
They’ll imitate
Your most cherished hopes;
Only dustier,
For imitations are just that.

Let now the starry celestial photograph
Pan downward, and transfix an earthy scene.

Let now the star-dusted, dreamy walls
Crash down into rubble.

Let now any last negative of that first photograph
Burn into ashy oblivion.

It’s just acid on my memories.

Burn

2005-12-20T19:04:00.000-08:00

I run away and run away and r u n a w a y . . .
And there it is,
My existence.
There it stands, waiting for me.
The familiarity of it all brings
Bitter tears
To my eyes.
If I could only find the words, I’d thank you.
Still struggling with how to express my gratitude,
I hardly notice how they lift me
And slam me against the
Stake,
On its high platform.
And oh, the beautiful irony,
You yourself knot the coarse rope that binds me to my fate,
You yourself take the torch up, and
Slowly, deliberately,
Set alight the straw at my feet.
How can I thank you?
Fire, beautiful fire!
How was I alive without it?
The flames rush up,
Faster, sweet fire, faster!
Consuming the straw,
Now they lick them hem of my loose gown.
The flames reach to me and inspire me- now I know how to thank you.l
Deliberately,
I meet your eyes with my ash-cold glare,
But only for a second,
For now the bright fire engulfs me.
I open my mouth,
And with my
Painful, tearing, rending screams echoing,
I burn
With thanks.

Blood Leaves

2005-12-20T19:03:00.000-08:00

Autumn.
The world is ablaze with color-
Crimson, pomegranate, bright gold.
Even the water is aflame-
Still as any mirror, it reflects the seeming blaze.
A wind ripples a branch,
And I dance in a rain of crimson leaves.

I’ve spun too fast, it seems.
Nature becomes my nightmare.
Trees no longer seem afire-
They are.
Too late, too late,
Fire erupts
Across the lake-but I thought it was
Water!

Ripples of icy heat
Move the branches above my head.
No longer do maple leaves fall-
I’ve been spinning in
A rain of blood drops.

(whoops, I wrote this one in October and never got around to posting it.)

Broken Games

2005-12-13T17:26:00.000-08:00

If I had a closed box earlier,
Now I fear the puzzle pieces are spilled.
Watch me,
And feel free to laugh
As I scrabble to pick them up
Off the cold hardwood floor,
Knowing it’s a lost cause.

Watch it all,
As my card house tumbles down
And away in a tornado,
Never to be regained.
The last card to go is my ace of spades.

And last, there the pick-up sticks
Clatter to the floor,
A mockery of color.
Did they slip from my hand,
Or did I drop them?

*poet's note: and the irony of this poem is that it made more sense two days after I wrote it than it did while writing.

Up

2005-11-29T19:30:00.000-08:00

“Isn’t it ironic that the people you love most always hurt you the most?” –m. weaver

Didn’t I swear
It would not happen again?
Again, again…
They say,
“What goes up must come down.”
How true;
I’m always up
Until the cruelness shoves me down.

I nearly wonder if the Ups are
Worth it,
But they’re not.
They’re not.

So douse me with virgin oil,
Strike a match-
Quickly, now-
And watch me
Go up
In flames.

Mute

2005-11-27T18:14:00.000-08:00

They always say,
“We don’t need words.”
But you and I,
We do.

The silent poetry of a glance,
The multifaceted meaning of a smile,
The crescendo of a moment together,
Those are all beautiful.

But for us there is
A thirst for the water of words,
A hunger for the delicacy of speech,
A yearning for more than the infinity of silence.

Declared

2005-11-24T20:00:00.000-08:00

If I declare this possible,
Does it make it so?
Who am I to prophecy such?

My careful voice rings out
In the bluest of whispers
In the shadowed hall.
If it echoes,
Is it still one sound?

I wish, I wish….
I wish I might be free to dream,
Just once.

Palely Untitled

2005-11-24T19:59:00.000-08:00

She knows there’s something there,
But what, exactly?
Brushing her hair out of her eyes,
Squinting ahead into the fog,
She seeks.
What is it?
A wisp of smoke?
A twist of cloud plume?
A sputtering exhale?
Poor soul.
She’ll never find it;
Her searching is all in vain.

Liuth

2005-11-24T19:58:00.000-08:00

People say that truth is hard to face.
I disagree.
Truth is easy to find and quick to speak up,
But Truth bites
After you’ve walked with lies.
Lies don’t speak up.
They whisper eerily in shadows
To snare the unwary.
Truth calls out from doorways,
Truth pours down in rain,
But Truth is in vain
As long as Lies have voice.

Wheel

2005-11-24T19:57:00.000-08:00

Somehow, flint and steel have struck.
A tiny tongue of flame has been born.

I can feel it
Licking,
Warming,
Nudging away the winter,
Turning the sun from pale cream to full-bodied yellow.

As the snow melts,
My garden appears.
Soon I will turn the rich earth,
Releasing its fresh scent into the air.

I will look in the old shed, too, for seeds.
In old coffee cans,
In dirty glass dishes,
In hidden corners.

Then, turning, I will haul out the rusted bin.
Slowly removing gloves, spades, rakes,
Even a dead mouse,
I will find it-
That lonely, near-new
Seed packet.

Spring is here.
Spring is here.

Liewhispers

2005-11-18T20:06:00.000-08:00

But now whispers,
Like murky floodwater,
Echo and invade my thoughts.

Liar! Liar!

They hiss.

Stop lying to yourself.
We speak truth.
You don’t.

But I want my lies to come true…

They never have, they never will.
Why do you think this one will be different?

A thousand shards hit me
And I stagger back
Why is Truth so painful?

Hey, truth hurts.
Smile, suck it up, and keep walking…

Smile

2005-11-11T02:27:00.000-08:00

I smiled
As my pulse darted away.
I didn’t know the effect you had on me.
If I knew how to make
You smile,
Then perhaps my lifebeat would return.

Or was it all a dream, a crafted illusion?
Your smiles
Are meant for another, I’m told.
My pulse will not return, then.
A breath slithers from cracked lips.
I shall wilt with the dawn,
And no longer
Smile.

Empty Fingers

2005-11-08T20:01:00.000-08:00

It's always been the same for me-
reach, reach, reach
for a handful of sand,
then watch it slip away,
leaving my empty hands.

If only just once
I could hold in my hand
the handful of sand
as they all do.

try again, fail again.
it's all a sieve.
over, done.
again I'm left
with empty fingers.

Burning Book

2005-10-20T21:14:00.000-07:00

Could someone dig the knife in a little deeper?
Throw some arsenic in my cup, please?

Let them do what they want.
They have a right to hurt me,
Even if they don’t know what they are doing.

Tear out the last page of my book,
Crumple it, soak it, let it die.
Burn the rest of the pages, go ahead.

And I see the future.
I see a figure, too, when I close my eyes.
I close them against tears as the book burns.
It’s not mine anymore.
It’s not mine anymore.

I don’t want your pity,
Push you away to sit and watch
Flakes of ash float.
One tumbles down next to me, merely charred,
And when I read the name, I run.
Running to escape from my memories.

Let it go, let it go, let it go.
It doesn’t matter anymore.
Let it go, let it go, let it go.
I only wish it was painless.

I don’t want your pity.

The City

2005-10-07T19:41:00.000-07:00

In the city of glass,
of sparkling steel,
of rainbowed mirrors,
night is.
It's all that has been,
and all that will be.
Night is.

Streetlights and homelights,
like so many fireflies,
bloom and illuminate paths
for the smallest eon of time-
but it's never long enough.

And I stand in the city,
alone.
Paths bloom around me
as I watch in vain.

Emotions crecendo.

The rain comes.
Slowly, it blankets the city,
sliding over
steel and glass and mirrors.

I lift up my face and hands.
The rain is welcomed
in pathlights reflecting
off my tears.

*Poet's Note: I wrote this poem while listening to Coldplay's "Fix You." You could read this poem with it in the backround. I tried to capture some of the incredible power of that song, as well as some of my own feelings.

Wist

2005-10-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

I had hoped.

It wasn't much and it wasn't the same,
but it was there-
glimmering, budding, somehow springing up
during the
dead, cold wasteland
of winter.

It wasn't the old flower, and I was glad.

But it was a dandilion, a weed of the soul-
Nay, a weed of the heart.

Just a weed.
No more,
No less.
Was it less?

And with but an exhale of regret
-mist clouding my vision-
I leaned down, eyes wide,
and plucked the weed.

I had hoped.
Was it less?

The McNugget Epistle

2005-09-13T20:40:00.000-07:00

I'm lovin' it.

Lovin' what?
Are you gettin' some lovin'?
Lovin' the abnormal english?
Lovin' the apostophe?
Lovin' the salad dressing?
Lovin' the fake multi-culturalism represtented by
eight
languages on the side of a five-piece chicken select box?

I would gladly hear your tale.

Wist

2005-09-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

I had hoped.

It wasn't much and it wan't the same,
but it was there-
glimmering, budding, somehow springing up
during the
dead, cold wasteland
of winter.

It wasn't the old flower, and I was glad.

It was a dandilion, a weed of the soul-
Nay, a weed of the heart.

Just a weed.
No more,
No less.
Was it less?

And with but an exhale of regret
-mist clouding my vision-
I leaned down, eyes wide,
and plucked the weed.

I had hoped.
Was it less?

Two

2005-07-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

two orange flags,
two red lights,
two warning shots.

two pitfalls,
two bear traps,
two cobra bites.

two gunshots,
two knife wounds,
two sudden stops.

two scars.

With the awful realization of a Seer,
I know there will be a third.

Plus a Cell Phone

2005-07-25T16:08:00.000-07:00

Dithering from
Lipsticked lips and whitened teeth,
Glancing flirtily from under
Eyelashed caked with mascara,
Showing off a figure
Wrapped tight with low-cut spandex,
You are a stereotype.
You lead the baboons on,
grinning savagely.
You bar the rest of our kindred
From rising at all.
Why do you exist?

Ode To Chocolate Cake (by Mary Comeau)

2005-07-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

I do not have the honor of being the author of this particular poem, but I really like it and decided to share it:

Oh, how I love you.
You are tall, dark, and rich.
You are ever so moist on my lips
With your waves of forbiddenness.
You come whem my body becons you.
You are stacked beyond belief.
Don't be fooled, it's always about size,
So bring on that huge, deep, dark and rich
Slice of chocolate cake.
Yes, yes, yes!
I am talking about chocolate cake.
You didn't think I meant anything else...did you?

Sweat

2005-06-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

Dripping,
Sticking,
Melting.

Smelling,
Begging for a breeze,
Disgustifying.

It makes me want to
peel
off
my
skin
and dump it in the freezer.
(Nikki says that's kind of morbid.)

But it's true-
I'm melting,
and not because a hot guy
is standing
next to me, either.

Damn schools built in the 50s
without
AIR
CONDITIONING!

Done for You

2005-06-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

They don’t trust me, I’m certain.
I don’t trust them.
You’re the only one I trust.
I think you’re the only one who trusts me.

The world is dark-
Fire seems to cremate it,
Blackness seeps in through cracks,
I am overhwelmed. And
Though I’ll never admit it,
I’m afraid.
Afraid you’ll die.
If I lose you, I couldn’t live.
I would lose myself.

You’re so peaceful when you sleep!
Would that I could find such peace,
Free from eerie nightmares,
From mistrustful people,
Free from fear.

Then, almost immediately, it becomes clear.
I must keep you safe.
You’re all that matters now.

And because of this fear
Of loss of you,
I take-am given-
A new name.

I do it for you.

poet's note: It's not about me. So who is it? Comments!

Poem Prompt for You

2005-05-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

Hey! Now it's your turn to write a poem! Here's a prompt: Write about a conversation with someone where the other party wouldn't remember words or actions entirely, just feelings. OR a conversation that the other person would forget as soon as it was over. You can post it here, or keep it to yourself; whatever floats your boat. :-)

If Time Were a Tomato

2005-05-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

If time were a tomato,
I wouldn’t chop it up and put it in a salad.
I’d cradle it gently,
Resisting the urge to bite in until the
Last possible moment.
And when I did bite in,
I’d savor it, this tomato.
One bite at a time.
No salt, either. Just plain tomato.
And when all this time,
So cleverly disguised as a tomato,
Was gone,
I’d wonder where it went,
And if I’d ever get another tomato of a chance.

Two Words

2005-05-21T20:55:00.000-07:00

Looking back through my book of memories,
I laugh.
I laugh the cruel laugh
of peers
to one who will be ostracized
in a few minutes.
I laugh at myself, then cry.
For written on each page
are but two words:
BLIND and NAIVE.
That's what I was.
Maybe I still am.
Who am I to say so?

Nuclear Fallout

2005-05-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

I thank you for your honesty,
I'm sure it served you well.
In keeping your life stable,
And throwing mine into a hell.
I beg thee not to worry,
Revenge's not on my mind.
I'm still trying to figure out
How I feel about your kind.
Your story had consumed me,
I'd made it part of mine,
And now you'd have me weep,
And forget in such little time.
In short, I'll keep my anger locked,
All safe and neat and clean.
And be calm and cool near you,
Trying not to release the mean.

A Vow of Friendship

2005-05-21T20:30:00.000-07:00

I'll be there when you cry.
I'll be there when you need to talk.
I'll be there when you rant.
I'll be there when you need advice.
I'll be there when you take revenge.
I'll be there when you get dumped.
I'll be there when your crush looks the other way.
I'll be there when you laugh.
I'll be there when you are smiling.

I'll be there when you need me-
I'm your friend.

Ne plus de Sourires (No More Smiles)

2005-05-21T20:25:00.000-07:00

I walk in the other direction,
Suddenly happier than I've been in days.
But then I rebuke myself:
No! No, no, no, no, no!
You have no right,
no reason,
To smile like that!
It's too impossible, you know,
And besides, you remember what happened the
last time you smiled
at something as
silly, as, as-
ridiculous-
as that!
So stop smiling, you silly girl,
and get back to reality.
But though my smile has faded,
Another one creeps back to take its place.
I'm happy- I can't help it!

~

2005-05-21T17:30:00.000-07:00

I sit alone
and choke on my dissapointment.
I told myself it was nothing,
but did my heart listen?
No, and yet it pleads innocent, the traitor.
Now I feel trapped
by my own feelings;
to others a trifle,
to me the world.
But a few hours ago
the world was full of hope,
Now?
I am crushed,
lying under the
heavy weight of dissapointment
and loneliness
I'm crushed for the stupidest (most stupid?)
reason,
yet
I
can't
help
wanting
to cry.

The Broken Dam

2005-05-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

Breathing hard,
heart breathing faster,
hoping with all my strength,
feeling stranger than ever.

then the dam breaks,
and my tears fall.

it's not your fault.

Tears of Resent

2005-05-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

Resentment is a weed,
One that you planted inside me.
You opened your mouth-
you shouldn't have done that.
because now, I can't stop it-
it grows, and grows,
and grows,
finally blossoming into a sickly
flower of hate.

It makes my friendflower weep,
to see that hideous bloom.
"But you're friends!"
She cries, tears rolling down in protest.
"it hurts me too!" I reply.
"I never wanted this resentment!"

And now all three of us cry-
Me,
My friendflower,
And the sky with us.

Closer to Panic

2005-05-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

Oh, no.
Oh, yes.
Another step,
I force my legs to move.
Another step,
Closer to my spark of hope.
Then the wave of
white-hot,
blinding,
pure
panic
crashes upon me as a cresting wave.
I can't breathe!
I can't think!
I cannot move anymore, either.
For how can one
escape
from a solid weight of
numbing,
drowning,
panic?

~

2005-05-19T19:20:00.000-07:00

It's funny how you
can still make my heart race;
even against my will.

the faint hope of a new plant
hurts more
than the death of the same.

Falling,
Falling,
Fallen.
Won't you come pick me up
and dust me off?

The Flown Ones

2005-05-19T12:01:00.000-07:00

I used to have buterflies
inside of me,
but they've flown away,
away.
I used to miss my butterflies,
but no longer,
no longer.
Last week they solemly returned
to flutter about me,
and I suddenly became annoyed
with these clinging creatures:
How dare they return unbidden!
But then they left,
as quickly as they'd come.
And I was glad,
and strangely confidant again,
until the ache of where my butterflies used to stay
consumed me,
and I wish again for
something to fill that ache.

The Future Holds My Never

2005-05-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

How can you wield such authority
over me?
Your eyes,
Your voice,
your very being
seems to dicatate my
every movement and thought,
and I want only to forget!
I want whiteness,
Screen-snow,
Static.
Anything but
the reality of
the feelings of now.

Seed Packet

2005-05-18T21:59:00.000-07:00

I found a packet
Of seeds once, labeled “hopeflowers.”
One was planted in my garden,
But I didn’t mind.
Hopeflowers are beautiful.
So I watered it each day;
I weeded out the
Fast-growing, ugly,
Thoughts
That sprang up around it.
Into it was poured my whole heart.
But after sixty
Days of clear blue skies,
Those well-meaning storm clouds rolled in.
I could have protected my glorious hopeflower,
But I was so certain,
So certain,
That it would survive the well-meant
Storm.
I waited, detached from my garden,
Until those clouds, that thunder, had left; then,
Oh then,
I saw my hopeflower.
A keen, politely chosen bolt of lightning-
That’s what had slain that hopeflower.
I cried more than the storm had poured,
I raged and shook my fist through bitter tears,
All to no avail. My hopeflower has been murdered.
Now I sit and regard these
Fragments of hopeflower,
And my gaze falls upon the seed packet.
Should I risk it?

An Outlaying Confession

2005-05-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

The vault is two covers,
The lock just a string.
The jewels?
Memories.
Mostly of you,
A new ruby, sapphire, or emerald is
Added each day
To my glowing, hopeful collection,
Which lies between the covers
Of a nondescript book-my journal.
If you were to get ahold of it
And read,
Would you be pleasantly surprised,
Or not?
Would you fling your arms around me and
Agree with my feelings?
Since you want to know,
I’ll tell you myself; no hidden emissary.
You’re my shining spark of hope.

This Is My First Post Ever

2005-05-18T18:48:00.000-07:00

Like the title? Ok, so this blog I set up to post my poetry so people (namely my friends) can read it (obviously). My name is Delalyra (yes, Delalyra, pronounced dell-ah-leer-ah). If you decide to comment, please think about what you're saying, and don't try and conenct names with things in my poetry (though most of you will know what/who I'm talking about. Be forewarned, they're not all about who you think they are!). So I'm going to start this blog off with my favorite Neruda poem. Without further ado...

if each day falls
inside each night
there exists a well
where clarity is imprisoned.

we neeed to sit on the rim
of the well of darkness
and fish for fallen light
with patience.

~pablo neruda