Tag Archives: crowd favorite

Peace

The War was over, they said. You said, don’t slam the door. Don’t wake me if I’m dreaming. Don’t raise your voice.

Night after night I matched my breathing to your measured steps. Maybe this time you’d come back to bed.

The War is not over.


Reweaving

Untie these knots; unbind these silken cords,
and let my heart beat freely. Let the blood
return to sleeping limbs. Remind my skin—
re-teach me how to feel. 

                                           Just let me breathe,
and I will take you in, your breath and mine
entangled—intermingled—each exhale
a testament to what we have enjoyed:
my name upon your lips, your roughened voice 
the spindle ‘round which my whole self is wound.
I am unraveled; we are both unbound.

So let us weave the threads of our desire
into a tapestry of wants and needs
and promises. Let passion guide our hands
upon the loom. 

                               We call this pattern love, 
my love; it lingers in our blood and bones.
We memorize each strand, the warp and weft,
that when we come undone, when we forget
how it is made, we loose the threads, unweave
our careless hearts, unwind our tangled skein:
Untie, unbind, unravel, weave again.


A little blank verse for the yeah write poetry slam.

Careening

When we were small you pushed my Radio Flyer down the hill. It landed in the brook, dented and wheels up. I dragged that broken thing around until it fell apart. Should have guessed then what you would do to my heart.



Novena

For nine days I have counted the bells – Midnight, Matins, Sext and Vespers – snatching sleep in the stillness between the peals. I placed my faith in their music to call you home to me. Every six hours another bell, another unanswered prayer.



The longest hour

Dawn is
the longest hour
the sun through the window
illuminating your untouched
pillow

I wait
a bated breath
suspended in the space
between the words I said and those
you heard

Sometimes
I hear your voice
while I stand by the sea
coy whispers promising you will
come home

Each day
begins with rain
each evening with cool mist
fog collecting in my lashes
till dark

All night
I count the stars
and search the sky for signs
my heart dropping apologies
like tears

Dawn is
a bated breath
while I stand by the sea
fog collecting in my lashes
like tears


This garland cinquain brought to you by the yeah write March poetry slam!