all of a sudden passion suddenly

[normal jean]

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore

delicate fingers tease and grasp
at fences and trees, stumps and stones,
intoxicant, enticer, honeysuckle lures
and suffocates rural landscapes
with haphazard patchworks of yellow
and various hues of creamy white,
she conquers and consumes at leisure

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore

time is her only witness as
she devours her world at whim,
hiding tangled bones from sight,
in ditches and thickets, her roots
reach low

as time walks in circles and cycles,
she somehow knows
that petal and stamen wither and die,
gnarled vines will ache arthritic,
her whole in mourning, arrival of cold

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore


you are tolerated,
because you are beautiful,
your smug reputation
outlasting your bloom

 

[Guest]

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore

I love this! I think the same thing.
On walks, I don't see honeysuckle anymore, just some little humping bunnies and ferns.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

You mean like this? The gate to my kitchen garden

 

[PandoraGlitters]

You mean like this? The gate to my kitchen garden

That's beautiful!

 

[Guest]

When I least expect it,
I find your little, big words
and they hit me hard;

comes the afterglow
then an awkward shame.
Shame again for
conscience and its effects,
conscience and its effects.
It goes around and around.

However that, baby, I take nothing back.
I keep it all hidden from public eyes.
You know it's gone for good
because I marry my secrets,
and united, are my enemy and my lovers
until we are all one. Me.

 

[sassynyc]

because I marry my secrets,
and united, are my enemy and my lovers
until we are all one. Me.

i am loving this line, as i live by it.

 

[WickedEve]

comes before the wake,
over water:
gravel beaches,
cliffs,
suite vistas
of orange burst line
stretched between motion
and blue.

sunrise.

let day break the eve
after slumber wakes.

 

[Guest]

Sometimes to survive the pain
you have to take it all in,
immerse yourself, feel it all.
When you do, you let it go
a piece at a time until there
truly is a peace within

This is what I'm doing,
it hurts, the remembering,
though I know real grief
will not go if it's denied.

Acknowledgment and time
is all that is required.
I have both
I have both
just let me have the peace soon.

 

[champagne1982]

Sometimes to survive the pain
you have to take it all in,
immerse yourself, feel it all.
When you do, you let it go
a piece at a time until there
truly is a peace within

This is what I'm doing,
it hurts, the remembering,
though I know real grief
will not go if it's denied.

Acknowledgment and time
is all that is required.
I have both
I have both
just let me have the peace soon.

peace shall come
as acceptance washes
across the grit
left by sorrow
and too many tears

time merely adds distance
between now and sadness
look beyond that horizon
and sink beneath the sea

wash it away
wash it away
and peace bouys
up the heavy heart

 

[unpredictablebijou]

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore

delicate fingers tease and grasp
at fences and trees, stumps and stones,
intoxicant, enticer, honeysuckle lures
and suffocates rural landscapes
with haphazard patchworks of yellow
and various hues of creamy white,
she conquers and consumes at leisure

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore

time is her only witness as
she devours her world at whim,
hiding tangled bones from sight,
in ditches and thickets, her roots
reach low

as time walks in circles and cycles,
she somehow knows
that petal and stamen wither and die,
gnarled vines will ache arthritic,
her whole in mourning, arrival of cold

honeysuckle gold-digger
fragrant, floral whore


you are tolerated,
because you are beautiful,
your smug reputation
outlasting your bloom

NJ, I've been meaning to respond to this since you first posted it. This is AWESOME. I have a yard that's being taken over by honeysuckle. The patch is conservatively 12' by 50' and growing every day, eating black walnut trees, fencing and redbud without even slowing down. When it's in bloom, the whole range, it hits you in the face as soon as you walk outside in the morning. It's a green monster, a beautiful whore. Just like you said.

And this is the best honeysuckle poem I've ever seen. You're right, you're right, you're so right.

thanks.

bj

oh and by the way, seriously, publish this!

 

[Guest]

peace shall come
as acceptance washes
across the grit
left by sorrow
and too many tears

time merely adds distance
between now and sadness
look beyond that horizon
and sink beneath the sea

wash it away
wash it away
and peace bouys
up the heavy heart

Thank you.

 

[Guest]

Moved....

 

[Eluard]

Another weird form

Etheree al

Little grows here and less is remembered
and whose death it was slowly rotates
the black of the white of the sky
until we are forgiven
or in your eyes I see
a shotgun of birds
saved to a Form
in Plato's
quick, bright
soul.

 

[vampiredust]

For a distant friend

This is how I like to think of you:
unopened like tins of soup
with obscure names that nobody
bothers to buy anymore,

a pair of charity shop jeans,
that cup of coffee you might
have made for me but was too
strong and sat there, absorbing

our row collapsing like the flames
of a November bonfire.
But I shall leave you with the one
I think of the most:

Quiet like a kettle's filament,
thinking about returning
some of the heat given off
and never returned.

 

[vampiredust]

Shadow

'Like the body in time it’s all too easy to forget.
It grows bigger as your light sets'

Amir Or


Think of it as the friend
whose name you constantly forget,
an expanding balloon
leering at you whenever you forget
to tie your shoelaces or kiss your wife
goodnight,
a dog constantly gnawing at your heels;
eager to be tossed a bone
and crawl back to the hole you keep it in.

 

[Lady Reiha]

No.

There once was a red butterfly.
Who fluttered and flew under a pale moonlight.
I regretted that day,
When I wished it all away;
That was the night I truly died.

The blood drains from my cheeks,
Cold. Pale.
My eyes like the murkiest of Strathcona waters,
I feel my last breath take leave.
No sympathy for my final peaks of life.

So now I feel the few faint touches of dirt and rain,
Much like the night I was killed..No! Slain..
But the heavens refuse to acknowledge me,
and hell.. too much irony.

So here I am in another life.
Reincarnated as a husband's wife.
Where have all my years gone?
It so very much feels like...

My life's barely begun.

 

[Sara Crewe]

Bailey

There were ten but you made the choice
easy when you chewed on our shoe laces
and wagged your tail
so hard you knocked yourself over.
In that moment we knew
you. Saw the wisdom in golden
eyes that said you knew the value
in being silly enough
to make someone smile.

You rode home on my lap
and I rubbed your ears
until you went to sleep.
I can still feel the weight
of your head on my knee
and the silk of your fur
between my thumb and finger.
I rub it like a security blanket
I cannot let go. It seemed like over night

that you outgrew my lap
and began to run and bark
for rocks, to greet cars
but mainly for your orange ball.
When you caught it
you rolled on your back
four paws in the air
in victory ritual that dared
the ball to escape your not so fearful
clutches again. You can’t see me

but I see you running with the kids,
lying under the birch tree,
sleeping behind the willow, walking
in the hay, swimming in your pool,
cuddled into the cat and always waiting
for me at the door—tail wagging.

And now you lie under a new
crabapple tree, your tail is still
and you run to see me
only in my mind. We miss you
not because we knew you
but because you knew us.

 

[Liar]

It's been six seeks
since the last rain
and seven
since I bit your shoulder
and you said 'there are other ways
to charm the clouds' and grabbed me
by the hair.

Maybe I will once more suck
the summer off your hands
before it drips from your elbows,
or maybe it will never
rain again. Either way,
I know it now, the strangest echo
stuck to the back
of my teeth.

 

[The Mutt]

What do you do
she asked
without a thought,
diving
into a flooded quarry,
expecting a title
or a trade,
not a tangle of slag
tonguing up
from the stony deep,
under mirror-blue eyes.

 

[WickedEve]

I believe the ladies love him--
old ladies with old lady names,

like Lucille, Mini, Polly,
and Barbara.
Ladies congregate,

gather. They come together--
their fly-wing skin,
unswattable hair--
buzzing with Hugo happenings.

So bare.

Front porches are for swings,
for wind chimes,
for potted plants.

Nudity should be proper:
beneath a robe,
before coffee.

 

[WickedEve]

Lucille lies crumpled
on pale lemon tiles. From her kitchen
(oh, those daybreak cupboards)
echoes of "survival" follow us.

Cabbages
and sprouts,
down to her last beet...
We tote beans
(in cans) We tote it all
away.

Survival.

We did not horde
before the end,
because a Lucille is always
to be found.

 

[vampiredust]

She fell in love with an astronaut boy

The binnacle
that held his heart
in place glowed
whenever

he heard her voice
cutting through
the radio's static,
emerging

to that place free
from the cold vacuum
of loneliness
and darkness.

 

[vampiredust]

Rust

love music not war
her t-shirt said,
politely ignoring
the remains of shrapnel,

evidence of past
conflicts,
still lodged in her arm.

His words would bring
them to the surface,
but they would remain
rusting; unable to cope

with the clean, sterilising
oxygen.

 

[Liar]

I want to spend
the last day of my life
as a frog,

so that I can croak
in your garden
under the rhubarb.

Then, pick me up
and throw me
downstreams.

There's always the birds,
and you don't want
me buried in
your dinner.

 

[normal jean]

I want to spend
the last day of my life
as a frog,

so that I can croak
in your garden
under the rhubarb.

Then, pick me up
and throw me
downstreams.

There's always the birds,
and you don't want
me buried in
your dinner.

sweet and beautiful