I was the sun
you the moon
till she came
and somehow
you believed
in the syzygy
of three –
Were we sheep
the earth woman
and I, accepting
shoddy alibis
hearts eclipsed
minds sealed by
lunacy of desire?
(Image my own)
I was the sun
you the moon
till she came
and somehow
you believed
in the syzygy
of three –
Were we sheep
the earth woman
and I, accepting
shoddy alibis
hearts eclipsed
minds sealed by
lunacy of desire?
(Image my own)
If paper beats rock
I win every time
Never mind steely arms
your mineral disposition
Nor that I tear easily – ink
blotting carefully plotted lines
I wrap myself around you
render you powerless….
….ah, love.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own.)
Compare every love to first
unrequited – a poetess
obsessed – regret, longing
No wonder I lack roots
goodbyes stack up
like cardboard mannequins
There is no presence in yearning
I am automaton, disengaged
heart chained to fantasy.
(Image my own.)
Do not apologize
the fault lies not with you
Love, while lauded for its cures,
is not always compensation
for a life of turmoil –
I know you loved her
Watched as you let your dreams slide
heart wringing with your own sorrow
There was just something about her
men lined up to grasp… to make her
What? Theirs? Happy?
It was not to be
she barely possessed herself…
Even in death, I reach for her
try to define the ruse
but her essence is elusive
No, you are not at fault…
for she was never really there.
(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge, prompt the featured image.)
We converse in actions
words inaccessible –
have not been schooled
in dialogues for two.
His clutter spreads
pronounce’s a kingly
presence, commands
attention, oppresses
I clean with insistence
shuffle papers, wipe up
crumbs, assert my right
to co-exist, belittle him.
Once we studied dance;
he learning to lead, I
to follow signals – the art
is lost on us now, our steps
more interference, blocking
an inconvenience, not a
strategy; we are rhythmless
tolerating avoidances
How did language fail us
experts now at skirting
delicate issues, retreating
into solo performances
Pray time will serve,
absolve the problem, but
distance grows in silent cracks
we only converse in actions.
(Marital Dance first appeared here in August, 2017.
I submit it here, edited, for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: dance.
Image my own.)
Who instigated the abandonment?
It’s an ugly question
manifests pretensions
both sides righteous…
blinded
When the rage subsides
faith will intervene
and acceptance –
a milestone
will springboard
recover, victims’
voices gaining clarity
intent amended
launching into love
once again.
(Love Cycles first appeared here May, 2018. Resubmitting it for Reena’s Xploration Challenge: milestones. Image my own.)
Endings
berry-coloured
sentiments
resting on a shelf
Nostalgia
doesn’t give a lick
about failures
cherishes emotion
No amount
of cunning can erase
the sweet taste
of first love.
(Image my own)
Has no jugular
sandstone grit
keeps his hell
well barricaded
She is melody
beauty flowing
sees only light
Classic tragedy
about to unfold.
(Image mine)
This shield of granite
birthed from grief
no match for vibrancy
of heart – her song
bright as cardinal
must be heard –
love outwitting loss
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Past love’s deadline
wolves no longer prowl
vultures, smelling rot,
circle overhead, plot
My essence is solitary
feather fallen between
wide-eyed expectancy
and maturity’s abyss
Abandonment or neglect
I truly cannot say…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)