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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~the color of a metaphor

wind is half-lost in a meadow

    where bloodroot opens

    after the night-flowering

it happens too slowly to notice

this perfect moment

carved into dawn

      of branch & wing

      old notes & rainwater     

how the dew settles

to needles of pine

like drugs for an addict

like unsaid words

of poems I wish I had written

    or the language

    of small birds

    a thousand miles

    from now

lah  4. 2. 17 ©

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~the color of a metaphor
wind is half-lost in a meadow
    where bloodroot opens
    after the night-flowering


it happens too slowly to notice
this perfect moment
carved into dawn
      of branch & wing
      old notes & rainwater     
how the dew settles
to needles of pine
like drugs for an addict


like unsaid words
of poems I wish I had written
    or the language
    of small birds
    a thousand miles
    from now










lah  4. 2. 17 ©
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #metaphor 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~esoteric

notice the stillness

     of water

how it carries us along

its softened edges

     holds us in 

     its fragile depths

the lull of a lonely lake

& its blue mood

     wet with reasons

lah  4.3.17 ©

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~esoteric
notice the stillness
     of water
how it carries us along
its softened edges
     holds us in 
     its fragile depths

the lull of a lonely lake
& its blue mood
     wet with reasons









lah  4.3.17 ©
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #personal 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~obscurity

just beyond summer, it's

soundless

   like old love & lightning

how many months to remember?

how many whispers?

  warm pinks & spread wings

the way she bends the sun's distance

between a tender curl

of leaf-sprout

& a brief flowering

his touch, as quiet as nightfall

soft ground on the cusp

of evening

   an indecent, unblanketing wind

the dimming ache

  her hips

  belonging to the shape

  of moonlight

lah  7.7.15 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~obscurity





just beyond summer, it's
soundless
   like old love & lightning

how many months to remember?
how many whispers?
  warm pinks & spread wings

the way she bends the sun's distance
between a tender curl
of leaf-sprout
& a brief flowering

his touch, as quiet as nightfall

soft ground on the cusp
of evening
   an indecent, unblanketing wind

the dimming ache

  her hips
  belonging to the shape
  of moonlight









lah  7.7.15 ©®
#romance  #poetry  #life  #reflection  #love  #thoughts  #personal  #seduction 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~gradually

 

 

i.

when I was little, I asked,

“is heaven in the sky, daddy?”

 

he said heaven is a further calling

a purpose, a destiny

          that love is blue

          & blue is limitless

 

when he was called home, I remembered

          love is blue

          & blue is limitless

                    like grief

 

 

 

ii.

spring inevitably brings violence

in the same bruised sky

a drunk wind pivots frantically

          swings in my direction

 

anger conjures up another storm

that thunders through windows

          & walls

 

the smell of rum is the sound of touch

          the crack of an open hand

 

 

 

iii.

october's orchard is still

at dawn

 

a family of deer feast on leftover fruit

they pause as they notice me

settling into a quiet, cold fog with

          the beekeepers ghost

 

 

 

iv.

the metronome ticks away

at distant shadows

 

words pulse in her eyes

like stars traveling in their

own orbit of solitude

 

desperation borders

the autumn

of her once auburn hair

 

          but she is fierce

 

slaying dragons until the heat

becomes too much

& imagination stops racing

through her heart

 

 

 

v.

blind birds stumble

from a damp bed where

poetry grows

 

          starved for attention

          starved for scent

 

hands stir awake the grasshopper

who spits like a preacher from

the pulpit

 

I am the flower

swallowing clouds

          full of tears

as day casts a spell of yellow

 

I bud my petaled armor

          sharpen my fangs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  4.4.14. ©®

V1 - to a parent

V2 - to a past relationship

V3 - to a place you grew up

V4 - to someone you look up to (Sylvia Plath)

V5 - to yourself

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~gradually
 
 
i.
when I was little, I asked,
“is heaven in the sky, daddy?”
 
he said heaven is a further calling
a purpose, a destiny
          that love is blue
          & blue is limitless
 
when he was called home, I remembered
          love is blue
          & blue is limitless
                    like grief
 
 
 
ii.
spring inevitably brings violence
in the same bruised sky
a drunk wind pivots frantically
          swings in my direction
 
anger conjures up another storm
that thunders through windows
          & walls
 
the smell of rum is the sound of touch
          the crack of an open hand
 
 
 
iii.
october's orchard is still
at dawn
 
a family of deer feast on leftover fruit
they pause as they notice me
settling into a quiet, cold fog with
          the beekeepers ghost
 
 
 
iv.
the metronome ticks away
at distant shadows
 
words pulse in her eyes
like stars traveling in their
own orbit of solitude
 
desperation borders
the autumn
of her once auburn hair
 
          but she is fierce
 
slaying dragons until the heat
becomes too much
& imagination stops racing
through her heart
 
 
 
v.
blind birds stumble
from a damp bed where
poetry grows
 
          starved for attention
          starved for scent
 
hands stir awake the grasshopper
who spits like a preacher from
the pulpit
 
I am the flower
swallowing clouds
          full of tears
as day casts a spell of yellow
 
I bud my petaled armor
          sharpen my fangs
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  4.4.14. ©®

V1 - to a parent
V2 - to a past relationship
V3 - to a place you grew up
V4 - to someone you look up to (Sylvia Plath)
V5 - to yourself
#poetry  #reflection  #relationships  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #abuse  #goodbyes  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~apertures & stigmas

 

 

 

 

 

it's still thursday

 

 

and always longer than

the average distance

 

 

a wider circumference to travel

as this clock swallows quarter hours

like ohio rain, circling the voices I

collect in my hip-pocket

lincoln penny reminders, tucked away

 

 

the contraband of snapped

promises

and I wonder if time is some kind of

warning

 

 

an extended moment when I understand the pulse

of certain fractured things

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  3.28.17 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~apertures & stigmas
 
 
 
 
 
it's still thursday
 
 
and always longer than
the average distance
 
 
a wider circumference to travel
as this clock swallows quarter hours
like ohio rain, circling the voices I
collect in my hip-pocket
lincoln penny reminders, tucked away
 
 
the contraband of snapped
promises
and I wonder if time is some kind of
warning
 
 
an extended moment when I understand the pulse
of certain fractured things
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  3.28.17 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #memories  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~cold roots

i.

I smiled once, in a photograph

ii.

somewhere, thunder is stranded

in a squall of clouds

waiting

          like an afterthought

          or the burden of shadows

          yet to fall

rain jewels the periphery

          curses the storm

          that brought you here

iii.

& so what if

I'm rain-drunk

dancing barefoot

shivering like

a virgin with

a tickle crawling

through my veins

the same as what

salt does to ice

          old words melting

          into new poetry

iv.

observe the crocus

pushing away the innocence

of new march snow

leaving its blood-red stain

in the budding

rising like sin from preying hands

v.

in the last season, as the sun sits low & late

bury the all of me

          bone & ash

                    smoke & secrets

lah 4.1.17 ©

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~cold roots
i.

I smiled once, in a photograph


ii.

somewhere, thunder is stranded
in a squall of clouds

waiting
          like an afterthought

          or the burden of shadows
          yet to fall

rain jewels the periphery
          curses the storm
          that brought you here


iii.

& so what if
I'm rain-drunk
dancing barefoot
shivering like
a virgin with
a tickle crawling
through my veins
the same as what
salt does to ice

          old words melting
          into new poetry


iv.

observe the crocus
pushing away the innocence
of new march snow
leaving its blood-red stain
in the budding

rising like sin from preying hands



v.

in the last season, as the sun sits low & late
bury the all of me

          bone & ash

                    smoke & secrets












lah 4.1.17 ©
#poetry  #reflection  #pain  #sadness  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~disturbances

what more is there to say about

april?

these moments between snow & summer

I've become windstruck

& overwhelmed with

the listening

a quarreling of two airs, unsame

the quickening, quivering of

a mysterious sky

   its dark arguments

   sharp-edged & lashing

the way it lifts barn shingles

    then kneels

    curses, echoing the valley

it's as if a dozen years of obscenities

thunder the distance between

the root cellar & the roughs

I find it too familiar here

these broken miles just before

the harsh light returns to blur

all things blue & affinal

like a gathering of half-breaths

captured unaware by the stilling

winter has only slowed the ghosts

lah  4.3.16

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~disturbances






what more is there to say about
april?
these moments between snow & summer


I've become windstruck
& overwhelmed with
the listening


a quarreling of two airs, unsame


the quickening, quivering of
a mysterious sky
   its dark arguments
   sharp-edged & lashing


the way it lifts barn shingles
    then kneels

    curses, echoing the valley


it's as if a dozen years of obscenities
thunder the distance between
the root cellar & the roughs


I find it too familiar here


these broken miles just before
the harsh light returns to blur
all things blue & affinal


like a gathering of half-breaths
captured unaware by the stilling


winter has only slowed the ghosts









lah  4.3.16
#poetry  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #change  #seasons  #introspection  #goodbyes  #storms  #arguments  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~continue reading

 

 

 

in order to create successful poetry

one must first write a poem

 

 

& then [in theory]

unbraid each sentence

divide and conquer each syllable

move them sideways away from any

illusion of sunlight
and continue due south, the

 

 

direction which words inhabit

even the unholiest

of curves

& fill the airpockets of

bare lungs

& pulse a bloodstream

like fifty-two shades

of red, or

 

 

 

perhaps poetry requires nothing

of us

 

 

      one part weather

      two parts living hands

      and a shadow the shape

      of a tree

 

    

you see, leaves will always remember

how to fall away when the

roots are too afraid to be

exposed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  1.29.13 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~continue reading
 
 
 
in order to create successful poetry
one must first write a poem
 
 
& then [in theory]
unbraid each sentence
divide and conquer each syllable
move them sideways away from any
illusion of sunlight
and continue due south, the
 
 
direction which words inhabit
even the unholiest
of curves
& fill the airpockets of
bare lungs
& pulse a bloodstream
like fifty-two shades
of red, or
 
 
 
perhaps poetry requires nothing
of us
 
 
      one part weather
      two parts living hands
      and a shadow the shape
      of a tree
 
    
you see, leaves will always remember
how to fall away when the
roots are too afraid to be
exposed
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  1.29.13 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #writing  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~ the length of a spine

there was a time

I was afraid of the dark
afraid to measure empty angles

of a January afternoon
when winter slept in the stillness

of my hands
the way its cold blue pause

burnt my fingers
as if I'd touched the sun


& there was a time

I used my heart to cover my face
when the wind bruised cheekbones

in shades of merlot
swept my hair away

like crumbs from a new year’s toast


it was midnight

when I first held his eyes

as color fell from the sky
& a shallow breath of a breeze

fluttered on my lips


it was 12:38 when I touched 
the fabric of a low-slung cashmere moon
ran hands over the curve of its smile
heard the moans of morning stars

from a melody of bed sheets
& the fragrance of musk escaping between thighs

I was naked in the dark


& I was not afraid












lah  1.11.12 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~ the length of a spine






there was a time
I was afraid of the dark
afraid to measure empty angles
of a January afternoon
when winter slept in the stillness
of my hands
the way its cold blue pause
burnt my fingers
as if I'd touched the sun


& there was a time
I used my heart to cover my face
when the wind bruised cheekbones
in shades of merlot
swept my hair away
like crumbs from a new year’s toast


it was midnight
when I first held his eyes
as color fell from the sky
& a shallow breath of a breeze
fluttered on my lips


it was 12:38 when I touched 
the fabric of a low-slung cashmere moon
ran hands over the curve of its smile
heard the moans of morning stars
from a melody of bed sheets
& the fragrance of musk escaping between thighs

I was naked in the dark


& I was not afraid












lah  1.11.12 ©®
#romance  #poetry  #life  #reflection  #love  #relationships  #thoughts  #personal  #seduction 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~bent on nostalgia

semi-darkness recedes to another plum-colored dawn
the fraying sun collects in splotches

of light


it's been a decade or more since

I've returned to this hour
this yesterday

or perhaps it was the day before


small hours accumulate quickly, the same way ivy prefers to branch east
uncurl like a gossiping
wind


everything here is the same
yet, everything is different


I stand perfectly still in the then
decipher its edges
study the angle of its root, examine the blueprint left behind
that message in pressed ink


its logic, its permanence


the ambrosia
 the resurrection












lah  1.7.14 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~bent on nostalgia


semi-darkness recedes to another plum-colored dawn
the fraying sun collects in splotches
of light


it's been a decade or more since
I've returned to this hour
this yesterday

or perhaps it was the day before


small hours accumulate quickly, the same way ivy prefers to branch east
uncurl like a gossiping
wind


everything here is the same
yet, everything is different


I stand perfectly still in the then
decipher its edges
study the angle of its root, examine the blueprint left behind
that message in pressed ink


its logic, its permanence


the ambrosia
 the resurrection












lah  1.7.14 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #nostalgia  #memories  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #retrospection 
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