Before the train
Heartbeats
The whoosh of life
Missing the rhythm of an afternoon’s passengers
You stand and consider
Heartbeats
And hearing none in the student throng
You cup your wrist
Until thrumming
discordant world whirling through the station
A hundred unheard drums
Tag: Poetry
The Heartbreak
and they sing of the dew breeze
Mountains capped by hoodies
They sing of the black sea
Valleys of shining water
Red as the sea
They sing of temptation
His hand on the tiger
And they sing of my country
As if there would be no other
Cera
Sunken treasure teeth Father holding his daughter soft gently peeling her off what Mercy what malevolence mutters from the crowd as he quickly sweeps the money and hat away time to move on she feels the damn in her mind giving way caring cramping her style she wants to find on something and ride, Captain, ride into the dark corners she plans to deliver light poor thing such rare treats in a world gone pickled beets and pigs feet she holds her tooth aloft as a star and signals to its sisters- another gift- she proclaims and marches one step twa two step down the lane a torch bearing her name spiraling dna into flame
House 2
I’ve been trying to grow things in this world pothos and jade plant aloe and fern and fiddle leaf Chinese Ginger maidenhair, staghorn and crispy fern and they’ve survived with me but mostly my childhood berated me for not having the house I wanted full of plants and animals and museums and blue rooms with statues and now that I’m crazier I’m aligning more with myself and my house is gaining an identity super organized mess creative stations everywhere and love love love love love need more room for books
Diary
I’ve been having nightmares multi-ended cinema features and waking menaces of giant men calling my name and pulling me from a globe of shield bringing me to their teeth I’ve been have waking fears hearing my name when no one is home a simple call or question left hanging I’ve been walking half distracted by my children the weight which keeps me grounded their laughter and bickering and half basted in surreal fantasies aural displays of temper and direction an anxiety gone rogue and pulling me whole hog I used to fight with these voices from a very young age inner demons and angels screaming at me to do so do til I screamed back no no no so now they laugh at my decisions and mock my direction malevolent laughter and I ignore then for the most part they’re so loud lately walking waking nightmare I don’t know if the dream is real for several minutes I lean and reel unsettled doing everything I can to keep the chair sitting there losing bits of time I’d rather sleep where I know the dream is a dream until I wake and must decide if it separate or a proverb if I was eaten out will be eaten by who does it matter my thoughts sweetie to show me the way and I listen to the pictures displayed
Home
The tinnitus of an empty house
once buzzing with family
the quiet wings of sleep shed
Cicadas hidden in the photographs
Rainsticks turning in the walls
The very pipes groan in ticks and longing
Stairs lay silent
fans continue their watch
a lone figure listens to the clock
The Great Thaw
I’m melting
Who cares if the cards are drawn
I never play my hand
I just talk honest to a few who care
Just break off the worst parts of me at the worst time
Then get back up still singing
I’m melting
I just want to understand
What is your master plan
How do I
How do I fit in if at all
Never been a puzzle piece
Just want to build you up
Just want to build us high
I’m melting
Oh, I’ve been ice cold my whole life
Here’s my smile, my sleeve, my heart
But no one gets on the inside til tonight
I’m melting
Hear the fluttering bird
One wing never healed
One winged bird rustling
Never healed right
One winged bird claws ready for a fight
Can you get past my shield?
Not a threat but a hope
It’s real
Who cares if the cards drawn
I never play my hand
Just want to speak the truth
I’m melting
Can you get past my
Can you get past my shield
A Half-Poem
Moon of birds and bees
Sharing moon
Alit in dew
Daylight moon
Subtracting me from you
Belari
Forged force of forgetting trickled down atmosphere down into Belari the swordsmith of Dale- he managed the weapons of kingdoms yet longed for parchment and quill.
Grit and Grace
O tender man whose life was spent in summer
When winter blows, I pray your shoulder holds
Against the wearying weight of living
May grit and grace always heed your call
AbyKittiwake 