- Status
Vampiric_Mirage
Dark Dreamer
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2004
- Posts
- 1,939
Battle lines are clearly drawn,
the sides have been chosen,
alliances are lost,
blood-ties are broken.
A circle of gold falls unseen,
joined by a flood of tears,
and a lipstick smeared shirt,
they land, creating a bed of broken dreams.
He waits impatiently
yearning for the paperwork to end
for the supple arms of his young lover
to no longer see her pain, feel his guilt.
She watches as he leaves
as the last 10 years dissolve into dust
she knows she did the right thing
keeping her silence, carefully wording the papers.
He gets the sports car,
the boat, and the knowledge he never has to pay,
everything else from their union is completely hers -
she smiles in secret triumph.
In agony she bears the lonely months,
the sickness, the fear of something going wrong,
losing sleep, gaining weight
until finally she is rushed to hospital.
Screaming curses upon the world,
crying out in pain for hours on end,
until success is finally hers
heard in the cries of her baby girl.
Months later he returns, begging,
having left his new toy,
having realised his mistakes,
coming to apologize.
Accepting his apology sweetly
she shuts the door in his face
starting her life anew
as she goes to feed her daughter.
the sides have been chosen,
alliances are lost,
blood-ties are broken.
A circle of gold falls unseen,
joined by a flood of tears,
and a lipstick smeared shirt,
they land, creating a bed of broken dreams.
He waits impatiently
yearning for the paperwork to end
for the supple arms of his young lover
to no longer see her pain, feel his guilt.
She watches as he leaves
as the last 10 years dissolve into dust
she knows she did the right thing
keeping her silence, carefully wording the papers.
He gets the sports car,
the boat, and the knowledge he never has to pay,
everything else from their union is completely hers -
she smiles in secret triumph.
In agony she bears the lonely months,
the sickness, the fear of something going wrong,
losing sleep, gaining weight
until finally she is rushed to hospital.
Screaming curses upon the world,
crying out in pain for hours on end,
until success is finally hers
heard in the cries of her baby girl.
Months later he returns, begging,
having left his new toy,
having realised his mistakes,
coming to apologize.
Accepting his apology sweetly
she shuts the door in his face
starting her life anew
as she goes to feed her daughter.
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
I
I am not your rib, your
nightly bedmate.
You speak doxy,
inamorata,
your paramour.
I am less.
I would be courtesan,
a concubine,
even odalisque
in some other life.
Instead,
I'm cunt,
bitch. I am
your whore.
You whisper over the phone,
There will be thoughts of you
while I'm away--ones
that will leave me hard.
~
With wife blind in arms,
you subdue Master.
And this slave kneels
in solitude.
I am not your rib, your
nightly bedmate.
You speak doxy,
inamorata,
your paramour.
I am less.
I would be courtesan,
a concubine,
even odalisque
in some other life.
Instead,
I'm cunt,
bitch. I am
your whore.
You whisper over the phone,
There will be thoughts of you
while I'm away--ones
that will leave me hard.
~
With wife blind in arms,
you subdue Master.
And this slave kneels
in solitude.
Last edited:
HomerPindar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2001
- Posts
- 963
I watched a boy play in the sand
tossing pebbles and flat stones at the sea
while his mother called to him from the shore
she sounded upset and I had to wonder what it was
that made her so upset
I didn’t understand what she said, or why he looked back like that.
I imagined it though,
don’t throw stones at the ocean,
or you will anger it.
I move past
past hotels
lobbies
other people gathered together
under the clear blue sky
where they had all gathered
a nice day for swiming
I found the boy later, as I was leaving
he sat alone
dazed
on the side of a road
wondering why I was going so quickly
and what had happened to that nice
clear
blue sky day
where throwing stones at the sea
was harmless.
tossing pebbles and flat stones at the sea
while his mother called to him from the shore
she sounded upset and I had to wonder what it was
that made her so upset
I didn’t understand what she said, or why he looked back like that.
I imagined it though,
don’t throw stones at the ocean,
or you will anger it.
I move past
past hotels
lobbies
other people gathered together
under the clear blue sky
where they had all gathered
a nice day for swiming
I found the boy later, as I was leaving
he sat alone
dazed
on the side of a road
wondering why I was going so quickly
and what had happened to that nice
clear
blue sky day
where throwing stones at the sea
was harmless.
Maria2394
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2002
- Posts
- 2,958
strangers
their discussion was frothy and warm,
but incidental, small talk, waiting
on a special order of arabica beans,
and I could not help but wonder-
if the red-headed woman had a fiery temper
or if the muscle man had a sense of humor,
gentle as a kitten, possessed by chivalry,
genuine, devoted, and caring.
I enjoy watching people, wondering
where they go, what they do
I envisioned them with two or three
children in the future,
not too far,perhaps five years-
twin girls helping mom
push baby brother in a stroller,
to the library for afternoon storytime
and on occasion, an improptu puppet show
and pick up several books for daddy
to read for them at bedtime, every child needs to know
where all the wild things are, and how dora
became an explorer, and how many fish are blue
and if the flowers on daisyhead maisey
ever grew and grew and grew
I dream about tomorrow and hide in yesterday.
inventing lives for people I will never know,
somewhat like myself
their discussion was frothy and warm,
but incidental, small talk, waiting
on a special order of arabica beans,
and I could not help but wonder-
if the red-headed woman had a fiery temper
or if the muscle man had a sense of humor,
gentle as a kitten, possessed by chivalry,
genuine, devoted, and caring.
I enjoy watching people, wondering
where they go, what they do
I envisioned them with two or three
children in the future,
not too far,perhaps five years-
twin girls helping mom
push baby brother in a stroller,
to the library for afternoon storytime
and on occasion, an improptu puppet show
and pick up several books for daddy
to read for them at bedtime, every child needs to know
where all the wild things are, and how dora
became an explorer, and how many fish are blue
and if the flowers on daisyhead maisey
ever grew and grew and grew
I dream about tomorrow and hide in yesterday.
inventing lives for people I will never know,
somewhat like myself
Last edited:
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,161
Don't talk to me
about loss
because I smile
and fall into a crypt
every day
because I don't have
enough fingers and toes
to count what I
don't have
Don't talk to me
about love
because I smile
at ghosts
who know me
better than you
ever will
and live more
than I ever did
Somewhere
jazz is playing
mad klezmer horns
each drumbeat
counts off another petal
that falls like one more stone
into my canyon
of restless sorrow
if i unbutton my lip
symphonies of sadness
will sweep the feet
from our days
it's easier to improv
than find ways
to explain what I
don't have
and jazz is
a better vamp
to bridge the breaks
between these laborious
moments
about loss
because I smile
and fall into a crypt
every day
because I don't have
enough fingers and toes
to count what I
don't have
Don't talk to me
about love
because I smile
at ghosts
who know me
better than you
ever will
and live more
than I ever did
Somewhere
jazz is playing
mad klezmer horns
each drumbeat
counts off another petal
that falls like one more stone
into my canyon
of restless sorrow
if i unbutton my lip
symphonies of sadness
will sweep the feet
from our days
it's easier to improv
than find ways
to explain what I
don't have
and jazz is
a better vamp
to bridge the breaks
between these laborious
moments
SeattleRain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2004
- Posts
- 988
some harm must come tonight
to bleed the poison you inject
sweat it get it let it out
pores mouth floods, not
black not bitter
paralytic
catylitic
bit by bit acidic
you refuse the cross cut
suck me out
fingers flex
parts flutter
wait for the fix
the fix
narcotic
hard rock break lock
take me to the scenic overlook
your hands clench ankles
begging for a bigger dose
but you know you need your jonesin' time
the crave the pain the ache of me
and when the poison comes
someone may break
in the wake of me
just shut up and take me
take me to that place you go
to stir up the antidote
to bleed the poison you inject
sweat it get it let it out
pores mouth floods, not
black not bitter
paralytic
catylitic
bit by bit acidic
you refuse the cross cut
suck me out
fingers flex
parts flutter
wait for the fix
the fix
narcotic
hard rock break lock
take me to the scenic overlook
your hands clench ankles
begging for a bigger dose
but you know you need your jonesin' time
the crave the pain the ache of me
and when the poison comes
someone may break
in the wake of me
just shut up and take me
take me to that place you go
to stir up the antidote
SeattleRain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2004
- Posts
- 988
someone dropped you through me
heavy, cylindrical
I no longer hold water
I no longer attemopt to keep afloat
to move with you
to swim for two
dead weight anchor down
and suddenly I do not care
I do not care I do not care
so suddenly, gone
she lifts the flag signals
waves her arms
I got it covered
I got it covered
and I am free to be numb
dead
gone
heavy, cylindrical
I no longer hold water
I no longer attemopt to keep afloat
to move with you
to swim for two
dead weight anchor down
and suddenly I do not care
I do not care I do not care
so suddenly, gone
she lifts the flag signals
waves her arms
I got it covered
I got it covered
and I am free to be numb
dead
gone
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,161
I'm trying to remember
that recliner. It could have
been plaid or blue tweed.
Maybe I was too focused
on the dusty cabbage roses
in the carpet or the vent
where babka rose on Fridays
to meet the Sabbath.
Mama sat by that vent
on her footstool, sat
with a dust rag in her hands
like a semetic Cinderella.
She held her feet toes pointed
toward each other
like genetic signposts
directing generations
to Look Down and find her,
Uncle Len, grandpop, me.
I think the recliner
was blue. I can remember
the knick-knacks
in the kitchen, the Dutch
boy and girl magnetized
to a forever kiss,
and the pushke rattling
with nickels for the poor
children of Palestine,
but that recliner eludes
me though I clearly recall
sitting on Daddy's lap,
crying under their angry words
the night she left, and I didn't
realize until years later the irony
of Combat blaring on the Philco
as the door slammed.
She returned three days later,
carrying the old leather valise
with grandpop's initials
between the locks.
We never said a word
about that, just
made Sabbath babka again,
clicked the Dutch boy and girl
apart and together,
and pointed our toes,
like we do.
She still called me
Chavala, which means
"little bird." I can't
remember the recliner,
but I am still a little bird
though everyone else
has flown away.
that recliner. It could have
been plaid or blue tweed.
Maybe I was too focused
on the dusty cabbage roses
in the carpet or the vent
where babka rose on Fridays
to meet the Sabbath.
Mama sat by that vent
on her footstool, sat
with a dust rag in her hands
like a semetic Cinderella.
She held her feet toes pointed
toward each other
like genetic signposts
directing generations
to Look Down and find her,
Uncle Len, grandpop, me.
I think the recliner
was blue. I can remember
the knick-knacks
in the kitchen, the Dutch
boy and girl magnetized
to a forever kiss,
and the pushke rattling
with nickels for the poor
children of Palestine,
but that recliner eludes
me though I clearly recall
sitting on Daddy's lap,
crying under their angry words
the night she left, and I didn't
realize until years later the irony
of Combat blaring on the Philco
as the door slammed.
She returned three days later,
carrying the old leather valise
with grandpop's initials
between the locks.
We never said a word
about that, just
made Sabbath babka again,
clicked the Dutch boy and girl
apart and together,
and pointed our toes,
like we do.
She still called me
Chavala, which means
"little bird." I can't
remember the recliner,
but I am still a little bird
though everyone else
has flown away.
annaswirls
Pointy?
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2003
- Posts
- 7,204
crazy desert craw
parched dry eyed burn
mirage waves under the covers
for the suck down spit it out
who taught you how to bite
like
that
tongue tip
slow drip intra-venus
saline potassium something to stop this twitch
and rip
venus mars and mother of saturn
where did you learn how to bite like that
mark your spot leave a path
find me waiting
pooled and tremble
fear of self injection
parched dry eyed burn
mirage waves under the covers
for the suck down spit it out
who taught you how to bite
like
that
tongue tip
slow drip intra-venus
saline potassium something to stop this twitch
and rip
venus mars and mother of saturn
where did you learn how to bite like that
mark your spot leave a path
find me waiting
pooled and tremble
fear of self injection
annaswirls
Pointy?
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2003
- Posts
- 7,204
it is still today in literotica land
while here it is already tomorrow
one hour and counting
counting
and recounting the last will and
testement of green godess
twisted fairy just mumbling to make some sound
waiting for the pounce of sense
logic redefined by chance pure and simple
roll flip turn the 8 ball up
side
down
bound to get the answer you want one of these shakes
take it down to the truth you already know
the
truth
shake flip MASH and
monkey and snake compatability charts
read through until something raises its hand and signals
you fucking already know the answer
and she fidgets with the dial
warm
static free
mood lighting
slow glow perfection
tippity tap of the finger waiting for you to come
tell me the story of
us
while here it is already tomorrow
one hour and counting
counting
and recounting the last will and
testement of green godess
twisted fairy just mumbling to make some sound
waiting for the pounce of sense
logic redefined by chance pure and simple
roll flip turn the 8 ball up
side
down
bound to get the answer you want one of these shakes
take it down to the truth you already know
the
truth
shake flip MASH and
monkey and snake compatability charts
read through until something raises its hand and signals
you fucking already know the answer
and she fidgets with the dial
warm
static free
mood lighting
slow glow perfection
tippity tap of the finger waiting for you to come
tell me the story of
us
Merrymaker
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2004
- Posts
- 517
under sultry enthusiasm
smoke tendrils dance erratic
passion stained thoughts follow
adrift in the pulsing labyrinth
no bread crumbs to follow
a new path blazes lipstick red
breath is held and released
dizzy with fingertip visions
(still playing with the rest)
smoke tendrils dance erratic
passion stained thoughts follow
adrift in the pulsing labyrinth
no bread crumbs to follow
a new path blazes lipstick red
breath is held and released
dizzy with fingertip visions
(still playing with the rest)
Maria2394
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2002
- Posts
- 2,958
separation of church and hate
preach to the masses, tolerance,
accept them all, children of the same
Maker of man, and woman,
we are a nation of hipocrisy
separated into groups
of lesser and higher religious equality,
Morality quakes in disbelief-
What have you taught that is good?
what more will you teach your children?
shall you teach them to build separate houses,
distinct in color, fervor and praise?
And will you teach them the difference between
Allah, and God, sane or insane,
and whether the Messiah has come
or not?
we should all be deaf,
and color, blind
preach to the masses, tolerance,
accept them all, children of the same
Maker of man, and woman,
we are a nation of hipocrisy
separated into groups
of lesser and higher religious equality,
Morality quakes in disbelief-
What have you taught that is good?
what more will you teach your children?
shall you teach them to build separate houses,
distinct in color, fervor and praise?
And will you teach them the difference between
Allah, and God, sane or insane,
and whether the Messiah has come
or not?
we should all be deaf,
and color, blind
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
Spell Check
I write to you of my submissive condition,
signed always sincerely, fuckslave.
Though there is suggestion for that title:
foxglove.
I do not believe I'd flourish in loam,
in siliceous soil,
yet I'd come if you called:
fairy thimble
or dead men's bell.
I would come to you by any name.
sincerely,
foxglove
I write to you of my submissive condition,
signed always sincerely, fuckslave.
Though there is suggestion for that title:
foxglove.
I do not believe I'd flourish in loam,
in siliceous soil,
yet I'd come if you called:
fairy thimble
or dead men's bell.
I would come to you by any name.
sincerely,
foxglove
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
I promised I would make some words
with which to arouse the wonderous
part of you.
I think I need to first allow my thoughts
to slide wetly along the length of steely
memory.
Ah, yes. There my lustful heart will taste
the electric tang as your neural impulses
fire your mind.
Limber recollections delve between the folds
hiding all my secret responses to this delight
roused in me.
Dreams nibble all these budding tips traced
perfectly against fantasy's lips captured now
in tooth's bite.
Move with me through this desire while passion
holds creation closely assailed with pleasure
bordered pain.
with which to arouse the wonderous
part of you.
I think I need to first allow my thoughts
to slide wetly along the length of steely
memory.
Ah, yes. There my lustful heart will taste
the electric tang as your neural impulses
fire your mind.
Limber recollections delve between the folds
hiding all my secret responses to this delight
roused in me.
Dreams nibble all these budding tips traced
perfectly against fantasy's lips captured now
in tooth's bite.
Move with me through this desire while passion
holds creation closely assailed with pleasure
bordered pain.
Liar
now with 17% more class
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Posts
- 43,715
3 am
muse and amuse
and the pixies of ephiphany
plays scrabble
throught the babble
of random revelations
in the hack of my bed
had of my beck
back of my head
as if it wasn't the hours
driving miss daisy
driving me crazy
already across that line
so flippin' fine
gawd almoighty i'm hazy
3 am
free i am
to detach from this
migrainic kiss
and go god damn
to dreamworld's bliss
muse and amuse
and the pixies of ephiphany
plays scrabble
throught the babble
of random revelations
in the hack of my bed
had of my beck
back of my head
as if it wasn't the hours
driving miss daisy
driving me crazy
already across that line
so flippin' fine
gawd almoighty i'm hazy
3 am
free i am
to detach from this
migrainic kiss
and go god damn
to dreamworld's bliss
The_Fool
smiling for the camera
- Joined
- Jan 14, 2003
- Posts
- 17,755
Cement Heels
Some shoes are meant for walkin’
Others high on style
Some shoes are built for speed
While some are made for comfort
But the shoes I’ve got to wear
Are meant to hold me back
Meant to hold me down
Made to hold me in my place
Meant to make me drown
Some shoes are meant for walkin’
Others high on style
Some shoes are built for speed
While some are made for comfort
But the shoes I’ve got to wear
Are meant to hold me back
Meant to hold me down
Made to hold me in my place
Meant to make me drown
The_Fool
smiling for the camera
- Joined
- Jan 14, 2003
- Posts
- 17,755
Gray tinged with sepia tones,
The sky welcomes him
As he steps out on the porch.
Careful to step on the welcome mat,
Avoiding bare feet on icy concrete
At all costs.
Jeans pocket yields a lighter
For the smoke he carries.
Light up. Inhale. Exhale.
Staring off into drab.
Routine broken by a shiver.
Stubbing out the smoke,
He goes back inside,
Locking the door.
The sky welcomes him
As he steps out on the porch.
Careful to step on the welcome mat,
Avoiding bare feet on icy concrete
At all costs.
Jeans pocket yields a lighter
For the smoke he carries.
Light up. Inhale. Exhale.
Staring off into drab.
Routine broken by a shiver.
Stubbing out the smoke,
He goes back inside,
Locking the door.
The_Fool
smiling for the camera
- Joined
- Jan 14, 2003
- Posts
- 17,755
Thoughts of a man
In a lingerie store
Range widely
Embarrassment
At the thought
Of being caught by friends
Interest
As he casually doesn’t watch
What women choose
Desire
As he hopes she picks
Something lacy, small and sheer
Humiliation
As he pays the bill
And gets handed the little pink bag
In a lingerie store
Range widely
Embarrassment
At the thought
Of being caught by friends
Interest
As he casually doesn’t watch
What women choose
Desire
As he hopes she picks
Something lacy, small and sheer
Humiliation
As he pays the bill
And gets handed the little pink bag
SeattleRain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2004
- Posts
- 988
teeth clench gentle over hard promises
of the solid swirl over sweet under
you are my jawbreaker
gob stopper
everlasting stretch
catching my breath
catching your poetry by the mouthful
handful
translated
in slow cursive loops across your trembling belly
while it is still warm
of the solid swirl over sweet under
you are my jawbreaker
gob stopper
everlasting stretch
catching my breath
catching your poetry by the mouthful
handful
translated
in slow cursive loops across your trembling belly
while it is still warm
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
Southern Porch and Lemonade
I'm afraid I had to decline that most generous offer
of our Daughters of the American Revolution.
Blue-haired ladies remind me of musty attics,
causing me to glow with improper recollection of Malcolm
and the disarray we made of Mother's quilt.
Gracious.
More ice for your lemonade?
Oh, yes. I was aghast when they moved my dear General from court house wall.
Of course, he now graces the parlor at the Historical Society.
But isn't it simply gauche to have tourists gawking at a civil war general,
despite those rumors of desertion?
I assure you, there is no cowardice in my family roots.
Gracious.
After all, I am a descendent of Thomas Jefferson
and my family served in the House of Burgesses.
There are times I long for the old ways.
Oh, but to have lived on the family plantation with all those darkies and cotton.
Mind you, cousin Thelma isn't dark. She's tanned from island holidays.
Lemonade?
What's that dear? No. We never speak of such things.
Moon shining, moon on the door, the gunning down of relatives
do not make for polite conversation. Mercy.
Well, yes. More recent family history has been... colorful.
Let me step inside and get more lemonade.
I'll squeeze fresh lemons, though it will take a spell.
I'll understand if you need to hurry along.
I'm afraid I had to decline that most generous offer
of our Daughters of the American Revolution.
Blue-haired ladies remind me of musty attics,
causing me to glow with improper recollection of Malcolm
and the disarray we made of Mother's quilt.
Gracious.
More ice for your lemonade?
Oh, yes. I was aghast when they moved my dear General from court house wall.
Of course, he now graces the parlor at the Historical Society.
But isn't it simply gauche to have tourists gawking at a civil war general,
despite those rumors of desertion?
I assure you, there is no cowardice in my family roots.
Gracious.
After all, I am a descendent of Thomas Jefferson
and my family served in the House of Burgesses.
There are times I long for the old ways.
Oh, but to have lived on the family plantation with all those darkies and cotton.
Mind you, cousin Thelma isn't dark. She's tanned from island holidays.
Lemonade?
What's that dear? No. We never speak of such things.
Moon shining, moon on the door, the gunning down of relatives
do not make for polite conversation. Mercy.
Well, yes. More recent family history has been... colorful.
Let me step inside and get more lemonade.
I'll squeeze fresh lemons, though it will take a spell.
I'll understand if you need to hurry along.
Last edited:
eagleyez
going up
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2003
- Posts
- 22,879
poet blue bird
wings too
tired
to fly
up here
near
my ear
love neverending
will wrap your seasons
spoken and surmized
on dreary days
and just before
spring's sunrise.
whisper bird to bird-
"I love you"
now and evermore.
take wing on that promise
on the wind of that truth.
(for Ange, may the wings unfurl on this prayer of jazz yet conjured, true one, smooth air prezgirl.)
wings too
tired
to fly
up here
near
my ear
love neverending
will wrap your seasons
spoken and surmized
on dreary days
and just before
spring's sunrise.
whisper bird to bird-
"I love you"
now and evermore.
take wing on that promise
on the wind of that truth.
(for Ange, may the wings unfurl on this prayer of jazz yet conjured, true one, smooth air prezgirl.)
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,161
eagleyez said:poet blue bird
wings too
tired
to fly
up here
near
my ear
love neverending
will wrap your seasons
spoken and surmized
on dreary days
and just before
spring's sunrise.
whisper bird to bird-
"I love you"
now and evermore.
take wing on that promise
on the wind of that truth.
(for Ange, may the wings unfurl on this prayer of jazz yet conjured, true one, smooth air prezgirl.)
Those
hands always
big enough
to gather all
the jagged pieces
mould them soft
into heart
beats safe
between your
tender fingers
Oh yes.
I love only
you.
I did.
I do.
Everlasting.
Evermore.
My darling eagleyez.
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
There is no one to answer to--
no spouse, no god,
no Master.
There is emptiness in this total liberation.
I have put away all reminders:
a husband's image,
palms pressed in prayer,
now
this chain.
You told me the chain
that bound me to you
would grow heavier,
stronger
each day.
I have one thousand
eight hundred
twenty-five
links.
Today, you tell me it's finished,
that the chain's complete.
What do I do with such heaviness?
Do I hang it from a bridge?
I could dangle over the water
and watch reflections wash away.
I would tuck it somewhere
but the length seems boundless...
and this poem must go unfinished,
because I have a chain to deal with.
no spouse, no god,
no Master.
There is emptiness in this total liberation.
I have put away all reminders:
a husband's image,
palms pressed in prayer,
now
this chain.
You told me the chain
that bound me to you
would grow heavier,
stronger
each day.
I have one thousand
eight hundred
twenty-five
links.
Today, you tell me it's finished,
that the chain's complete.
What do I do with such heaviness?
Do I hang it from a bridge?
I could dangle over the water
and watch reflections wash away.
I would tuck it somewhere
but the length seems boundless...
and this poem must go unfinished,
because I have a chain to deal with.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,161
sometimes
too tired
to take
another
step
to all that calls for closure
from all that wants freedom
from being enclosed
my ghosts are breaking fast
now, pouring air tea, crumbling
toast dust to nothingness
the lives they don't have
brim with choices I
don't have.
She wakes.
She waits.
She takes
my turn.
too tired
to take
another
step
to all that calls for closure
from all that wants freedom
from being enclosed
my ghosts are breaking fast
now, pouring air tea, crumbling
toast dust to nothingness
the lives they don't have
brim with choices I
don't have.
She wakes.
She waits.
She takes
my turn.
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