[x]

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.

Serendipity and SnowfallI am la vie en rose,
a newborn with as many mini bones in my body as possibilities.
Lovelily,
I am potential waiting to be tapped into.
I am a spectrum of light,
serenity in the symmetry of a snowflake.

I come veiled in lace from everlasting love's womb with my budding,
fresh,
goose-flesh tucked tenderly underneath.
I spread my spirit wide,
outstretching my feather-tips &,
supplicated by twizzles,
I catch my ballerina's foot & fly.
In these fleeting,
finite moments of ubermensch suspension in multiple salchows comes clairvoyance,
a kindness beyond the absolution of mundane minds.

With the key to perfection being repetition,
I pray you

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

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

(c)loves and (c)loversi 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 should

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

systemhe said that one day I,
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.

he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.

he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
swallowed up

and that it would be poetic justice.

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.

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.

Ryan's PoemHow many times did you save me
from myself?

The quiver girl,
strung tight and shaking,

self-nursed at the end
of a whiskey bottle;

your ever-night,
shuddering off to sleep

a sick bat wrapped up
beneath your bed,
half rabid;

half intelligible-
if you were lucky.

Good nights I curled up
against your broad shoulders,
smiling
as you palmed a bowl,

taking in air
to request records
and savory things
to eat - and then,

I nested on top of your pillow
as much
as any girlfriend

yet never quite
a lover.

I was hard on the heart, Darling, wasn't I?

Never yours
and now

we never speak.

Sewer-Rat SentimentsWhen every ounce of
all you hold precious
begins to
rust like
"under-resourced"
men's tin roofs
and all your memories are but
floating along
the slum area
streets
towards the sewage
amidst another
frightening
flash flood

When all your aches
and woes
resurface with
all the time you've spent
wallowing instead of solving and
you realize
too late how
right now
you are
repeating the same
sick cycle
and that cynical is
the only way you
know how
to cope
to kill
your dreams
your soul

When each day is a
reminder of
how poor you'll always be
in your reflection
and
in your heart
your will
to live is
about as sturdy as
your s

Oceane, Adrift
Undone from sea-moorings,
I float.

The sea has bid me barren, an
island with no anchor.

Bleak and pale I drift,
to and fro.

Gentle giants nudge me,
their fins propellers – spurring
me on.

Sailors cry out, their
voices lost amid deep thoughts and
deeper dreams.

I drift, an island set
free too soon.

Anchorless, I ride storms and waves;
the way children ride ponies.

Torn from my harbour,
I sail.

Bad Mouth Habitsi.
I carry God around in my lip like he's chew,
spitting his name out in poems like potholes,
I make everything a simile
for the hold he has on me.

ii.
When it comes to men,
I've the appetite of a Roman housewife,
I take, I taste, I tear,
swallow and then then toss up
for the next course.

iii.
I don't kiss anyone so dearly
as the glass pipe bridged between lips
and fist.

iv.
Jameson, you're an Irish Lad,
a young ram of bucking proportions,
I let you rattle around my mouth
til I herd you in
and down.

v.
Sometimes there's nothing so sweet
as the jack-hammer of angry words
or the steel trap clamp of silence.

I exercise m

the cure for everything is saltwaterand my voice is choked with pebbles
and my veins are thick with ink
so i'll bleed out all my lovesongs
wash them down the kitchen sink
and i'll tell you that i'm leaving
and i'll flee this soulless town
for the silent sea is calling
and i'm not afraid to drown
and i'll search out quiet islands
let the blank horizons be
drench my soul in every ocean
sink my heart in every sea.

beaut(if)ulYou exist in the
space where beautiful is a
question unanswered.

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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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[x]

caring for p(o)ets

by =Sammur-amat, Jan 23, 2013, 8:25:08 AM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

scribbling 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

caring for p(o)etsby =Sammur-amat

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Free Verse

Read by the ever amazing *disrhythmic over HERE: [link]
I WOULD SUPER LOVE TO SEE COMMENTS, THANK YOU!!

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

Critique:
Is the poem's length acceptable enough?
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=doughboycafe Feb 28, 2013 Professional Writer

Loved it. Love the pet/poet and the idea of how much we little artists need to be cared for... love LOVE the flow, it's snappy and fast and almost like a little beat going through my head. I saw all the images clearly, specifically the scribbling in sidewalk cafes.

Also, I have to say, I <3 Alliteration forever.

I wonder if this is how my husband feels about me sometimes? Anyway, I think you captured it brilliantly.

=Sammur-amat Mar 6, 2013 General Artist

Eeee, I'm thrilled to know you've enjoyed the piece so much, lovely lady!

You should give a listen to *disrhythmic's reading of this (can be found in my comment box below the piece itself), it's absolutely brilliant!

Haha, I bet it is!

Thank you so very kindly for your humbling words of praise!

=WiNGz69 Feb 13, 2013 Student Writer

I have no words to convey how much I love this poem. I felt as if I was smitten to my knees and now await that final blow that'll take me away to some poetic paradise of your own construct. It was fun, romantic and beautiful.

=Sammur-amat Feb 18, 2013 General Artist

Thank you so very kindly, dear friend!

I'm so glad you enjoyed the read!

~skybirdshadows Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

i really like this! It's really grounded for a romantic poem, which is different. I think that the flow fits the style really well, being split up and fast paced. I hope that's what you were going for, cause I liked it! My favourite line is definitely "it is now time to tame this p(o)et's perverse mane"
overall, excellent metaphor.

=Sammur-amat Feb 18, 2013 General Artist

that's exactly what i was going for! you are beyond awesome, you know that? <3 <3 <3

~skybirdshadows Feb 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

wow! thank you so much. i was just being honest. you are pretty amazing yourself!

=Sammur-amat Feb 25, 2013 General Artist

agshsjhdgdj!!

*lombregrise Feb 12, 2013 Professional Writer

Nice reading

=Sammur-amat Feb 12, 2013 General Artist

*disrhythmic does indeed have a deliriously beautiful voice

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caring for p(o)ets

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