Friday, May 4, 2018

Your fall

and sometimes I'm still trying to break your fall...

it's sad we never got to see the ocean together
but the sky was always watching, moving
and it was blue enough
we just knew something better was coming
it just never reached us
we talked through the night about small nothings
just happy we belonged beneath the same roof
and you always fell asleep first leaving me
to ponder the fires of a future truth
open ended conversations we never finished
well perhaps that's for another day
another place
when I catch up to you

wish I had just a spoonful of the hill 
we used to climb
wish I could sit in the barn we used to hide
we were wind chasers, star tracers
damn near choked on their indifference
but I was yours and you were mine
and your dark eyes were the only dark eyes
I ever saw my reflection in

and I would have taken your fall my brother
it just wasn't up to me

Still missing my brother Patrick whom I lost nineteen years ago and I don't think I'll ever stop. It's the unconditional, unromantic love of siblings that buries into our soul unlike any other love we encounter and anyone that has a brother/sister knows and realizes that sometimes this kind of love carries us onward and giving strength and fortitude
to keep carrying on when there's nothing left but revival of memories. 

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Up to me

you were not a first choice
I wasn't looking for you
but you claimed my lips
without asking
and I made a dream from you

you brought blood
our first kiss
that should have told me something
I wanted love, I wanted you love
but I never knew what love
would want of me

you left my eyes full of clouds
slipped your name onto my tongue
and my soul's fire to raging
addicted to the midnights we consumed

pulled me across an ocean
into your arms
into you
I became ready
your lips stole me
your words buried me
I didn't wish to fly
stars disappeared - music seemed 
to belong to yesterday

our bed grew cold and lonely
you were drinking 
from another's lips, guilty
it was just time to
put our love to sleep
and it was up to me


Saturday, April 7, 2018

Vacant Romance

all the elephant keepers
are invisible poets of course
writing love stories, of dark moons and
talking oceans
they are all love directed
lost shoe strings, birds shadows
and homeless, magnificent forgotten men
asleep on the fringe of a frozen universe
hands curling inward now
that used to curl around the hem
of their lover's dress

their dreams are a sweet addiction
crying doves and sharpness of broken wing
striking a haunted chord
nostalgic, for the future feels emptier
the past in its own language
longs to give direction
music its own dictation

you must follow the directions
fire building is intimacy 
you will surrender and dance around it
moonlight reflects on the water, a phantom -
a longing that pulls you out of yourself
to nowhere so don't stare at the water too long
please beware the hypnotic beauty of music
breaking free like sea gulls splitting the sky
pounding the want from heart
to lips
to touch
to heat

no-one can see what words mean to you
the manuscripts will never rust
they are safely resting within
the pearly shape of moonlight dripping
like honey on wild grasses-
a vacant romance
pulling us out toward the mystery of rain

I wrote this poem over several lunch breaks. I am a lover of words and miss just writing anytime of the day, when I get home after some nine hour days I am exhausted and creativity takes a hit. But for those that do read I can assure you this blog means so much to me, it allows me to lay heart & soul on the page. I will always show up to write here, maybe at a slower pace but I will be here. Thanks to all you that have been loyal readers I appreciate you, and you are my encouragement to keep picking up my pen. Love you all- Vanessa

Saturday, February 24, 2018

You'll Stay Gone

how much of us
absent of things
make up a life
how far away do we
go, to return to the
sound engines of breath
the water bears the voyage
masks disappear, wrists
grow smaller
one harbor leads to another
love left on a shore
leaves behind
wild apple trees, infused youth
delirium of summer skies 

the books on the dresser
our coffee in bed, warm under
weighted bedspread
now, closed journal

I see you by the seashore
seasons pass colorlessly
like castles in gray rain
stanzas wait
pencil unlocks the unsaid
and frames us out
leave me that
the lilies will be beautiful
mist and fog
snow and frozen windowpane
winter will murder the day
you'll stay gone  

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Wet Matches

my daily bread doesn't satisfy me anymore
the mocking silent moon that I pass the hours with
he won't choose sides
I am hungry for beauty, for a strange new love
that might cradle, might soothe and destroy
the panic that lodges
freezing me in hopeless Winter ruin

we would talk about how lucky we were to have met
talk about the heart, the whole madness that doesn't
quiet down or bed the damned tragedy that screams like a
inner electrical currents flow
hope demands we break the darkness apart
until we find something that cultivates the existence
and wins the argument of love

somewhere in the Winter rain
I must mutilate my bearings that feel like
Earth and He'll renegotiated and formed an eclipse
beneath my feet
My dreaming feels uselessly whimsical
I must pass my time wisely to survive
and push toward the crystal light
that dismantles and settles this rumbling
resembling a street whore that's lost on East 14th Street
that doesn't exist anymore

I can't translate this desolate season like before
My matches are wet

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Innocence or Something Like Silence

break a wine
burn a flame
dance in the darkness
until it fades

get drunk from a place
learn how silence flies
on wings of morning birds-
leave when you're ready

kiss your lover
like a desire that will
one day leave you

imagine like children
whose only want is
mud puddles to swim in

be in love with the unattainable
drink in the moonlight on your loves face
stir clouds in the sky
with your thoughts

torment of heart won't save you
so put that horrible toy away
quiet your demons with purposeful
silence of your choosing
say everything
speak no words

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Long Short Street or Hope in an Envelope

There's no more reason to burn the photographs 
the notes, no more room for the ache I carry 
Gone are the summer nights and moss covered trees, the scratchy green army blanket we shared
Long street was the shortest way to get to where I realized I can't fix me and maybe everyone isn't supposed to be fixed 
My mind is an ocean, rapid waves of heartbeat, oxygen in short supply, deep holes of darkness swallowing me
and I have been a fearless warrior 
I have mellowed in sunlight, drank the stars in the eyes of a most desired love 
I've hidden quarrels, buried their power in salty graves 
Slit my lips on on summer's devoted aphrodisiac of sugared plums, sent loved ones love and hope in an envelope 
I hid my madness in a mattress 
I faced sorrow that ripped my souls canvas and changed my place in this world and to most
I sometimes appear too alone 

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