Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The lines that make up living.

There are some lines you never see
Until you cross them.
Finer than fine,
Obscurely taking residence
In the hidden places of between-ness
They sit silently
Waiting to fulfill their destiny
As the mile markers to each of our journeys.
In between day and night,
In between darkness and light,
In between love and fear
These lines sit listening
For your footsteps,
Anxiously awaiting
The moment for which they were created
The moment of passing.
The moment of becoming.
The moment of life.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Hidden Treasure.

Enigmas abound in black and white.
Emeralds and rubies,
Neither of them shine so brightly as
The light i see shining in
The eyes that melt my heart.

This poem uses a literary device that Edgar Allen Poe used to hide the name of his lover in the poem. To find the hidden treasure, take the first letter of the first line, second letter of the second line, third letter of third line etc...

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Magpie- "When your walls become you."

Every bone ached heavy
With the weight of every
Breath keeping her alive.
She had floated on
For far too many years
On this unforgiving sea of life
Carrying the burdens and scars
Of a lonely heart
Without so much as a
Part-time role as cherished lover
In sight.
The stoniness came naturally,
The logical consequence
Of guarded sensibilities.
She had built her stony walls
So high and so close
That she became them
And sank to the depths
Without a glimmer of hope
For her stone-housed epidermis.
As the wave swirling saltiness
Called her to rest
With one heaving sigh
She surrendered her soul.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Prounouns are wonderful things.

Eyes are dazzling.
She is dazzling.
Can I tell you about her?
What's that?
You ask me why I only use prounouns
When I talk about her?
It's simple really,
Her name makes my heart
Skip a beat or two
And it's not polite to let your heart
Skip a beat are two
In front of company.
She loves traffic, and adores red lights
So she can have more time to sing in the car.
She loves hot chocolate, and she shrugs
Her shoulders with delight
When she drinks it.
She is scared of storms sometimes
But that's okay because that's what
My arms are for.
She wants to travel and see the world,
But always come back home.
I want her to know that she can run
Into my arms
And not worry about being who I need her
To be
But just
To be