[x]

caring for p(o)etsscribbling down vicious verses on
tissue napkins while seated at
the corner of a sidewalk cafe is
about as romantic, raw and
honest a p(o)et
-outside of the four corners of your bedpost-
can get

if you've got that person dreading over
drafts and dreams on end
-of you, for you-
consider yourself a new owner
it is now time to
tame this p(o)et's perverse mane
you've got your hands on
a fragile purebred
which can be very tricky for
first timers

Aurora (Borealis)The vermilion sky melted and slipped
into a barely muddied, ruddy hillside
powdered-sugarcoated, vanilla ice-whipped

The vivacious glory-of-the-snow
sabotages the dead silence of the season
with its vehement, blue-violet glow

Know that I see the gleaming aurora in
your laugh lines, life lines
in the palms of your hands and
pads of your feet, unfurling the unsaid
The north star becomes
a cardinal bindi on your forehead
Know that I feel you are heaven-defined
prophecies pressed into my spine

You want to whisper across my tips and capillaries
breathe in sky-blue butterflies, out sea-green envy
I want to compass through your crust and

north pacificAudio version thisaway.
icewater and tumblestone beaches, and i wonder, clifftop,
if the fog tastes like forest.
the ocean carves its histories
in the driftwood--creation stories and
lullabyes worn smooth,
bleached to a polish.
it might be sand shifting but maybe--
maybe i can feel the whalesong,
low and deep
thrumming in the hollow spaces of my bones.
i envy the seabirds
who have more room to feel.

dismantledyou're too bad, too m
u
c
h, using my heart as your
c
r
u
t
c
h. who knew human beings could
hurt each other by the softest t
o
u
c
h, so deeply
and so very, very
m
u
c
h.

Of Ether and AnimosityI'd rather spend my life in regret
because I told you I love you
than spend my life in remorse
because I never even tried.

I run my fingers over the brim of wine glasses
so that if I can't find you in the alcohol,
I'll find you in the sound that fills the silence
the way you once filled my chest
with rehearsed affections.

We are remembered by this earth; in the sound of
evening thunderstorms we are commemorated.
You blend well with the utter abandonment
and loneliness that echo off my heart unto
these bathroom walls-- I stand burying my soul
in solitude as I shower off
my intoxication and my distraught.

There are hungry wounds alo

AcquittalWon't you leave me? I will love you
more than if you stay, transfixed

to the point of reference, our bodies
melding a sad, soft sublime, the back

spine of a little universe blown out
like a crafter's hot glass, the growing

moment, the wonder, the expansion
before a chill.

woods and coffeelimb-like

your

hazel spine broken in bits

with the fern & the twigs

take two aspirins

six strings

synapses & wings

ease into summer, starling

raised up in the winter, darling

curled up on the couch

with the coffee making ripples

in your eyes & stealing

looks from a ghost in

the upstairs

murmurs from the ailurophile

laughing to the sound of you

waking to the full moon

plea to the skinny boy

in the southern room

the autumn left in the leaves

still tangled in his hair

i must have seen you there

still was the storm

in the black-haired girl's stomach

she rose up from the dark of his

arms & found herself sprinkled with

dan

The WindblownLike a sparrow, you perch; toes curled and brown eyes wide, arms tinted blue with cold. In my haste to reach you I trip upon your shoes, tiny little things still drizzle-damp and abandoned at the door.

"What are you doing?!"

Your legs stretch for summers as you stand, dress billowing from you like a white flag of surrender.

"Ava, come inside. Come inside. Please."

You stare past my outstretched hands and step away—a sparrow, caught in a downdraft.

PluckingPlucking

The table between us is a moon.
But the air is heavy. It lies
on us, muffled heat stilling
our breaths. You drop your fork,
but I still won't look at you. Even angels
would crawl if they were here.

"Why can't we be friends?"

I am thinking of a Flemish tapestry
I once saw in a white stone house,
walls dense and prickly with roses:
a line of stiff scarlet soldiers,
a rearing horse. The soldiers' thick fingers
grope at the blank cream cloth,
seeking purchase, gravity.

"What are you feeling?"

"I want to be a Flemish soldier,"
I tell you. Only my fingers
would constantly pluck at the expanse,
searching for the thread
that will unra

mitosis always broke my heartAstors of minute fortunes

b l o o m e d

when electricity created function from
an impulse.
You were an extension of me -
my only viable chromatid -
connected at our centromere
was the heart
of failure.

They progressed, those star-fire
petals, attac(k)hing us
to something more
foreign -
and on this mitotic spindle, we were
too
naive to know
this is it,
our ignored forementioned goodbyes.

We were broken at the thorax,
our H's became I's,
our union became two singular coils of
characteristics.
We were on separate poles of the
same planet
and
when
we were separated by phospholipids
and glycoproteins,
life was give

Whistle+++
i am the wicked edge of ricochet,
the asphyxiation of dust
in a hummingbird's bones. skeleton,
i am silver, grass torn hollow
by a child's breath. corkscrewing,
my veins etch true reflections
on time's skin:

a cardigan crumpled
like a child. Blue
and torn in half.
---

Acid WashEven if it were true
That to savor each and every second of our time on earth
Would be as foolish an attempt as counting all the
Specks of sand spread across the shores
Of the east coast waters,
If by doing so would mean that I could
Undo time and distance's doing and
Have you by my side once more
Then trust me, babe, I will start counting
From this moment on, diligently so-
With burning eyes and drowning senses,
Till my fingernails turn to specks themselves
And my hair reminiscent of sea foam

There will never be an obsession like mine- over your soul
The lack and longing from my core leaves me salivating,
Leaves me a special kind of

the complete loneliness of beingGreen, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
– F. G. Lorca, Romance Sonambulo, translated from Spanish by William Logan.

Do not teach me poise.
Learn how to fit your mouth
around my name, around
my geography, my gods, as I do
around yours, effortlessly,
woman, be a language marine.
If you become a mermaid or more,
still, do not teach me poise.
Already, you’re a skeleton willow lean,
and green, how I want you green.

In India, there is a city of gates
but not many know it by that name.
People are gates opening towards a sea,
yet you won't throw w

SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.

lovesong for sailorboyRead aloud and explained (somewhat) here.
i have always loved words as you love the sea
but i have grown to hate
prepositions
because i have always had words
about you
with you
to you--
but never for you.
words for everything
except you.
but i have words for this, so
i'll take them
one by one.
about.
the ocean was your first love and
i could always see it in your eyes.
most would call them blue--just
blue
like a swell over a sandbar
blue like the spring sky over a poppy field.
but i don't think anyone
got as close as i did and they're not blue
not shorebound and
safe--
they're gray like the steelbellied sea itself
like the horizon at dawn as it
encircles you
hems you into an impossibly vast canvas
like a demarcation line
or a promise.
one you always chased.
with.
maybe i had a streak of ocea

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More from =Sammur-amat

Plum Rain/ Baiu       noisy gods
       carry southern winds;
       plum rain

       ha-ta-ta-ga-mi
       mi-na-mi-no ka-ze-wo
       ha-ko-bu; ba-iu

Comfort       long day until
       your gold eyes
       light the earth

       hi-na-ga ma-de
       a-na-ta ki-n no me
       chi wo ra-i-to

Beginning       start springtime
       love blooming
       bees are buzzing

       ha-ru sa-i-sho
       ai wo kai-ka shi-ma-su
       ha-chi ga bun-bun

Cicada Songs and Cinder Beds
      My heart is swollen by cicadas' songs;
      A moment filled by agape persists

'It turns pearlescent, almost fantastical at the sight of moonrise'
I am uttering your famous words, beloved

How poetic of you, beloved-
Truly wondrous how you uncover hymns and find limericks even in my grief
      It speaks of us in volumes

If only the now barren tears I shed at every slivering of moonbeam
Could shudder the ground they fell upon with their might-
As if clashes of shield and sword

Frivolous Trifle"Please be careful when handling" is what the attached card with the delicate cursive says.

The card continues to explain that it is easily breakable or in other words,

FRAGILE
(underlined neatly twice).

Yes,
I wrote that note, and with the special way I curve my h, you must have already figured.

Yes,
this is me talking about the bow-tied with polka-dots and carded heart that is in your hands.

Yes,
it's mine and it's from me to you- and yes

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Submitted: December 15, 2012
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[x]

(c)loves and (c)lovers

by =Sammur-amat, Dec 15, 2012, 10:07:46 AM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

i am no artist's muse,
i am no ship's harbor

i am no hero's weaker heel,
i am no good earth's flower

i have never been your lover
nor have i ever kissed you,
- not even once

though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
kissing you and to be kissed by you
over and
over

i can never profess,
not even confess

note:
even to myself

i stay standing, (b)raving the cold nights,
pretty much batty and bootless

yet again,

the absence of you weighs metric tons on my
ringing ear,
shivering nape, and
repressed shoulder

you dam(n) me with
your body;
you are my river's boulder,
untapped territory,
and undefined border

(c)loves and (c)loversby =Sammur-amat

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Free verse poetry

Your feedback, as always,
is both highly anticipated and appreciated.

COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS, ALWAYS LOVED!! THANK YOU!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Critique:
Is the formatting too much of a distraction?
Am I making any sense to you at all?
Two-cents please?

Critique by !travelgirlxx Jan 30, 2013, 7:11:07 PM

I like the formatting...but it might be a bit distracting.

And this:

though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
kissing you and to be kissed by you
over and
over

is a beautiful image. I had a certain boy stuck in my head, the longing to kiss and share that intimacy with the person you love, while stuck in the fear that you cannot profess nor confess the truth to that person.

Basically: you really hit the nail on the head with this.

And: i am no good earth's flower - I want freaking more of this!!!!!!! This sentiment deserves an entire other poem!!

And here is my argument for keeping the typography (even though I still say it's a bit distracting):

the final stanza:

you dam(n) me with
your body;
you are my river's boulder,
untapped territory,
and undefined border

The image burned so gorgeously in my brain by the typography play in this final stanza is fabulous. I mean: perfect.

I love this piece; can't wait to see its edits!!