By Secret Thoughts Within and Vintage Black
I am so tired
so very, very tired
of not feeling comfortable within myself
I am so weary
so very, very weary
of putting my heart back on the shelf
Tired
tired tired
Weary
weary weary
Comfortable with nothing
and weary with so little
my shelf life (patience) expired
and my honest thoughts
are cracked and
b r i t t l e
Feelings in disguise,
yet naked to my eyes
tired of dried tears
words stumbling
in my mouth
I’m comfortable
with nothing
I keep wearing
this sad face,
walking through my life
feeling barely
awake
I am so tired
so very, very tired
of not feeling comfortable within myself
I am so weary
so very, very weary
of putting my heart back on the shelf
Tired
tired tired
Weary
weary weary
I open my eyes
stifle a yawn
allow my heart to take some chances
Some friendly hugs
Some cheeky words
Some flirty engaging glances
Still
so tired,
and so weary
I am
Yet I know,
with a smile
a verse
a stream of thought,
a nice coffee
under the sun
I’ll awaken from dreams
and all I have lost
and slowly
but surely discover
my heart's still beating—
s o s t r o n g
*Third piece I write with the lovely Secret Thoughts within- always great fun collaborating with her
Where is her tiny
Black dress?
The one
She wanted to
Wear that
E v e n i n g
A dress of
Fancy,
Bitter,
Sweet and
Dark-tinged
V e r s e
Prose-dyed,
Vague-styled,
But, still,
Written with
Her,
I n u n i s o n
Neither
Of them
Wanting
To die
A verse-less
D e a t h
For this,
They together
Caress,
An achingly
D a r k , — B o l d
B l a c k
— D y e dD r e s s — V e r s e
Fragments of deep verse
Washing ashore
Yet the lyrical tempest
Hasn’t even
S t a r t e d
In this rough and
slumbering,
Wetly dry and
Wicked,
Late summer
of slow
w o r d sWake up,
W o r d S t o r m e r
Have you ever
dreamed of
such a late,
And furious,
Timeless,
Fateful,
Somber,
Fearsome,
Word
S t o r m ?
Wake up,
W o r d S t o r m e r
Sedimented stanzas
Washing ashore
Yet the lyrical tempest
Hasn’t even
S t a r t e d
Far removed
from Self,
Far removed
From Other,
Far removed
from
Poets—
Far removed—
SmotheredIn this rough,
slumbering,
Wetly dry and
Wicked,
Late summer
Of slow
w o r d sWake up,
P o e m S t o r m e r
We haven’t met
In real life
I’ve barely seen
Your framed
P r o f i l e
Yet your words
Illuminate
My path
Your empath
Soul
My spirit
L i g h t e n s
This soft
Bright verse
All weaved in
P u r p l e
A wickedly
Magnetic rhymer
Wielding words
With infinite poetic
N o u s
A great
Wing poetess
A gifted lyricist—
And a better
F r i e n d
This soft
Bright verse
All weaved in
P u r p l e
I gift you back
This free-
Spirited
Scripted,
T e r s e ,
Mild-waved
Wild-rhymed
But honestly,
Faithfully,
D e e p l y ,
All purple,
Waved, and
Soulfully
Written
V e r s e
T h e s e
P u r p l e
W a v e s
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e
she tried
t o
b
e
a n d
p r i c k e d
b y t h o r n y
— p o e m s
these fingers,
n o w,
b a r e
r h y m e s
c a n ' ts r b l c i b e*
y e t s h e 's a
d i l e t t a n t e —
at
a m b i g u i t y
she
d i t h e r s
*
t h i s g l a r i n g
s u n
e m b a l m i n g
l i g h t
will b a t h eher f r a i l y e tr h y t h m i cm i g h t
*
she y e a r n s ,
once m o r e,
t o d i v e
i
n ,
s i m
w
blue - b i r t h i n g
v e r s e
i n l u s c i o u s
i n k
*t h i s g l a r i n g
s u n
e m b a l m i n g
l i g h t will b a t h eher f r a i l y e tr h y t h m i cm i g h t
*
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e
she t r i e d
t o
b
e
and d i t h e r
d i d
and
d i t h e r
w i l l
*
u n d e r
n e w l i g h t
a b a r e
b l u e
b o l d ,
free
v e r s e —
t a k e s
f tl hi g
*
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c eg o t n e a r l y
k i l l e d,
b u t b i r d
of m i g h t —
r e b o r n
she found
h e r
*
and d i t h e r
d i d
and
d i t h e r
w i l lthese fingers,
n o w ,b a r e
r h y m e sd os r b l c i b e
*
r e b o r n
and full
of
m i g h t
i n i n k she
t h r i v e s
in i n k she
s w i m s
*
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e
she tried
t o
b
e yet s h e ' s a
d i l e t t a n t e —
at
a m b i g u i t y
she
d i t h e r s
these days
i feel too mild
to grasp life with
a mordacious bite
i lose my pencils easily
and i permanently
misplace my pens
and pads
my words end up
stored away
in fridges,
where i’d rarely
look,
Alas!
lest I turn
ravenous
with
rhyming
lust
my lazy verses,
in arrears,
they become
tears of
m
o
d
e
r
o
b
goodbye
steam lettering
on a hot bathroom
M
i r
r o
r r
o r
r i
M
By Amber @Diosraw & Vintage Black
We nursed those
pixelated lilies
back to
WordPress life
Time
travelling
the technicolor
cyberspace
Birthing
new data nova
blossoming
ripples
The way our
readers would
love them to sway
and rhyme
Forever
poetically
entwined like
old 'net souls,
Smelling them,
after one hell
of a poet hard
day's night
Those petals
never smelled so
beautiful, their aroma,
yet untouched
Frozen
in the liquid
space of
virtual landscapes
Traceable
as textured
blogging
stanzas
Scented like
miniature
screen
snowdrops,
with concealing
yet revealing
online veils and,
O
frail and
pixelated
lilies,
interstellar.
* * *
For this “virtual eco-poetry” (own coinage :p) piece, I bounced ideas back and forth with Amber @Diosraw. Amber’s got a site with hundreds of resources on multiple topics - ranging from yoga, eastern spirituality, science, tech, alternative media, and many more.
I die
A thousand
Deaths,
And cry
A thousand
Tears
Inky drops
Become
Soft crease—
On coarse skin,
Renewed
Fears
I write
This very
Poem
To tattoo it
On your
Skin
White ink
Is so translucent—
Such a
Slight,
Poetic
Sin
I die
A thousand
Deaths,
And cry
A thousand
Tears
If only
I’d read this
On my palm—
To get prepared
For life’s
exam
But fact is,
History
Tells me,
You can’t
Read
Between
Inked lines
I die
A thousand
Deaths,
And cry
A thousand
Tears
Profound verse,
Quenching
Thirst
For life—
Would tell
You about
Poetic
Strive
You die
A thousand
Deaths,
And cry
A thousand
Tears
Some dark
Drop
Stains,
Soft,
Wrinkled
Skin
On book
Unwritten,
Dark,
And stark,
And torn,
And loud,
And
Magic,
Start.
And
Feared.
So.
White.
Teared.
Skin puzzle
Dismantled
In pieces
It breaks
A myriad of
Heartbreaks
A billion
Blue tapes
I turn on
The radio
My mind gets
All buzz
My eyes get
All blurry
My heart
Gives a blast
The mike
Switches on
No words
Old travail
I clear my mind
My voice
Won’t obey
Skin puzzle
Dismantled
In pieces
It breaks
A myriad of
Heartbreaks
A billion
Blue tapes
They give you an answer
You don’t wanna hear
It’s sad and
So lonely—
No place
For you here
Now ready to go.
Please do...
Draw the curtain!
And—
Switch. off.
That.
Lamp.
Steam rises,
So hot here!
That room—
Gets.
All.
Damp.
Don’t want
Those
Wall poems
All soiled,
Dyed,
Smeared,
Smudged
Skin puzzle
Dismantled
In pieces
It breaks
A myriad of
Heartbreaks
A billion
Blue tapes
*** With love to my favourite beta reader; you know who you are ;-)
She was born
An electric year
Blank was her canvas
Gone with the wind
A hectic mind
And fragile skin
Tears of dust
Heading to the
Gold horizon
Electric to touch
And buzzing with
Flying verse
Dressed in cord pants
Chunky brown shoes
Curls down
To her ears
Eyes—wiser than
Her years
Tears of dust
Heading to the
Gold horizon
Electric to touch
And buzzing with
Flying verse
She was born
To a bird of clay
Blue was the sky
Crimson obeyed—
Turned cold prey
Craftsmen say
Magenta pigment
Had ran out
That day
Tears of dust
Heading to the
Gold horizon
Electric to touch
And buzzing with
Flying verse
Paint on her fingertips
Words down her eyelids
Stardust kisses
On her lips
Electric blue tinges
Nursing her
Back to sleep
Tears of dust
Heading to the
Gold horizon
Electric to touch
And buzzing with
Flying verse
She was born
An electric year
Blank was her canvas
Gone with the wind
A hectic mind
And fragile skin
Slowly, slowly,
You approach me
Little creature
Of the night
I behold those
Fancy feelings
Wicked wizard
Warm at heart?Slowly, slowly,
I approach you
Please don’t bite me
Let me roam free
Lion tamer
Suave enchanter
Got seduced by
Your spider fang
Softly gifting
Piercing heartaches
Wicked creature
Golden nightSlowly, slowly,
You reproach me
Swift-tonged monster
Full of might
I might leave this
Fancy figment,
Feathered, foamed,
Velvet stream at heart
I still dream, You—
Wondrous creature,
Would come,
slowly,
a n d
S o f t l y ,
D a r k - v e i l e d ,
B I T E .
I often feel flustered
with your never-ending
sweet-toothed verses
You are endowed
with some greatly
magical tricks
Yet your poem interruptus
meter often leaves me
all cold and bothered
Fact is, I'll never get
sonnet-pregnant
with your words
'Cause you always
pull out your rhymes
at the very last minute
There is never enough time
to come into ode-full
moans and sighs
My daylight dreams
are all flustered and
my imagination drawn
to ecstatic snippets
Lest it get too desirous
of your malicious,
yet infectiously
mellifluous ballads
Oh boy—
this
poem
interruptus
Of yours
