I Want a Love

Actually written today!  I promise I write about more than love...sometimes.  

I want a love like a dance

Like a song

Like mason jars on the windowsill

I want a love like a breeze

Like a book

Like a firelight evening in wintertime

I want a love like a rose

Like a pathway

Like a starry night sprawled over all the world

I want a love like a brewing storm

Like sunrise through the blinds

Like you

Things I Would Like You to See

This is quite possibly my favorite poem I've ever written.  It was 110% from the heart and I still enjoy reading it.

I would lay down my pen for you. 

Though perhaps I would find myself
immersed in the most eloquent of sentences,

Though the muse’s cheeks may be aching from the broadness of her
blessing-bestowing smile,

Upon your call, I would lay down my pen. 

And I would bring you flowers. 

I would venture out into the field—
a rolling, grassy field, as all should be—

Perhaps in not the best choice of shoes. 

But venture I would, in search of the flowers,
with bobbing heads and tenacious stems and a scent like all of summer all at once. 

I am quite sure they exist beyond my imagination. 

And I would bring you those flowers, and place them deliberately in a pleasant arrangement upon your kitchen table, so when you saw them over the top of your paper, or on your hasty rush out the door,

You would think of me, and my wounded feet,
because I did not in fact wear the best of shoes. 

And I would sit with you. 

Out on our porch—
because of course, we must have a porch with a swing—

And with my hand in your hand on your lap, and my head so perfectly rested on the side of your neck,

We could watch early evening progress into night, and I would only half-listen to the words you would say, because the smell of your skin, and the sound of your breath, and the way your voice drifts through my ears to my lungs, is so much more important than the fireflies glowing just short of the stairs, looking for flowers. 

And I hope that you know, though I’m sure you do not,
that if sheer magic poured forth onto my page,

If the heavens cracked open and inspiration poured down,

If Shakespeare himself took control of my hand,

When you called,

I would lay down my pen.  

Lake Como, Italy

Aside from poetry, I also have a weakness for pretty pictures.  I don't plan on turning this into Pinterest, but I would like to post the odd photograph or work of art that I like.  Here's the first!

Little Love Poems

A bunch of little cuties sporadically written.  I love love.

I love you the way I rise in the morning
Thoughtlessly and every day

The probability of love
Is exactly two
One me added
To one you

If you would come
And ring my doorbell
And quite unexpectedly
Kiss me,
That would be good.

Love poems
I love them
I love love
I love you

Miscellaneous May

Three little things written throughout the month of May.  Catching myself up, bear with me.

The gray--
The cottony silver-gray
Of metallic paint spilled
On a newspaper sky--
The all-encompassing blanket
That is the expanse of an onrushing storm--
The silhouette of rain on sidewalk
The glisten of precipitation on the pavement--
The fresh wild smell of ten miles up
And the stench of a northerly off the lake--
Ohh, the stirring within my soul--
As big and brave and bracing
As the steely monster beyond my blinds

"Accidental Touches"
Every move made
By you
In my
Vague direction
Is a slight congelation
A soft fluctuation
In the placement of the stars
Across the surface of the sky

The space in my arms
Breath in my lungs
And gap in my heart
Are shaped like you

You in Words

Written 5/21/2013.  Excuse my posting old things, there's so much that I've written that hasn't been read and deserves a little love.  Now I've got an outlet!

I shall take poetic license
And place a glimmer in your eyes
And an irrepressible smile
When I slip across your mind

I shall set us in a meadow
Beside a creek at sunset's eve
You on the left and I by your side
And our hands clasped in between

I shall describe the constraint of your arms
The warmth of your sides and chest
Under cold stars, a long goodnight
In the place I like the best

I shall take poetic license
If only for my own sake
For what a difference to the heart
Poetic license can make

If I could I would sail/I will root you from my heart

Written 6/15/2013 (in California!)

If I could I would sail in a pea-green boat
On the crest of a bearded sea
With golden lettering on the outside
And inside, only me

I would chart a course for a distant land
Where aches and pains all fade
And time it crawls like sand-crabs do
Just above the waves

The sky above would be blackest black
Vast and proud and deep
And somewhere beneath the yellow stars
Dawn is lost at sea

Provisions I would bring only a few
Little more than I need
A bottle of love and one whole heart
That no one could break but me

And I would drift sans compass or map
As wealthy as I am poor
While below the ocean is silent as mist
And the sky above me roars

Also written in California, same day!

I will root you from my heart
Tear you out piece by piece
So the ache will not be too much to bear
The dirt may crumble and the soil may cave
But for my sake you cannot stay
And something will fill this hole one day

An Elegy for Cherry Blossoms

This is a sestina, a style of poetry where the same six words are used to end every line, but in a specified order determined by someone somewhere for reasons unknown.  It ends with three lines that also use the same six words.  Written 4/29/2013.

The out-of-doors reflects in my eyes

Fragile pink of young cherry blossoms

And fluttering leaves in brash bright green

To the windowpanes I press my hands

From within the confines of my house

I watch the sky and await the stars

And when evening comes she brings the stars

They stretch awake when she blinks her eyes

And from my dozing at the window of my house

A sudden, stringent longing blossoms

To reach out, reach up, and cup my hands

To catch all of the sky over pastures green

But between the inky night and earthy green

Beneath the soft murmur-song of the stars

The candle displaced by my waking hands

Seeks asylum in the wooden floor with glowering eyes

In the corner, a brand-new flower blossoms

Hungry for the kindling of my house

And in a clean clutch of panic I flee my house

Become a refugee out on the green

While from the windows sprout fiery blossoms

Clawing with unrequited rage at the stars

Which spare no gracious gaze from sightless eyes

Not even for the raw, roasted pink of my hands

And with a deep and sorrowful sting in my hands

I turn with reluctance back to the house

An armada of embers calls out to my eyes

As they sail from the tree down onto the green

And the song that is rising still from the stars

Is a farewell hymn to the cherry blossoms

A throbbing pain roots in my heart and blossoms

Beating in time with the pulse in my hands

Matching tempo and key with the choir of stars

As they herald the cremation of my poor house

As the foundation burns down to the green

As all that I own shrivels black before my eyes

But a sense of strange beauty blossoms as I watch my house

As I soothe my hands on the dew-damp green

As the sparks ascend to join the stars, becoming divine before my eyes