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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~the seasons of me

 

 

 

 

x. autumn

 

 

maybe I have an illness

a disease

 

the falling away of

my flesh

 

too many bright colors

of ache

 

& bones stripped

by vultures

until all that remains is

the marrow

 

 

 

x. winter

 

 

consider it a method

of exposure

a glimpse of me

naked

 

bare

 

sleeves of ice

but living like a winter

without snow

 

the cold distance

between breaths

fogs the view

 

to warm myself

with whiskey

doesn't melt the

core

 

it only sweats against

the glass shell

& puddles beneath

 

 

 

x. spring

 

 

perhaps I'm delightful ruins

in a dark room

 

or the intimacy of

thin clouds as they come

together

 

our intercourse of rain

pounds the ground

to plant seeds of indifference

among peonies

 

& how the friction

of ghosts emerge

from the trees

 

 

 

x. summer

 

 

maybe my hands have become

the tremble of a butterfly

searching for a safe

spot to land

 

one still perfect flower

 

an invitation to drink

sweet nectar

 

to become intoxicated

to quiver for a moment

 

& soar on alone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  6.8.12 ©®

Header overlay image is me. :)

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~the seasons of me
 
 
 
 
x. autumn
 
 
maybe I have an illness
a disease
 
the falling away of
my flesh
 
too many bright colors
of ache
 
& bones stripped
by vultures
until all that remains is
the marrow
 
 
 
x. winter
 
 
consider it a method
of exposure
a glimpse of me
naked
 
bare
 
sleeves of ice
but living like a winter
without snow
 
the cold distance
between breaths
fogs the view
 
to warm myself
with whiskey
doesn't melt the
core
 
it only sweats against
the glass shell
& puddles beneath
 
 
 
x. spring
 
 
perhaps I'm delightful ruins
in a dark room
 
or the intimacy of
thin clouds as they come
together
 
our intercourse of rain
pounds the ground
to plant seeds of indifference
among peonies
 
& how the friction
of ghosts emerge
from the trees
 
 
 
x. summer
 
 
maybe my hands have become
the tremble of a butterfly
searching for a safe
spot to land
 
one still perfect flower
 
an invitation to drink
sweet nectar
 
to become intoxicated
to quiver for a moment
 
& soar on alone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  6.8.12 ©®

Header overlay image is me. :)
#poetry  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #change  #introspection  #pain  #sadness  #emotional  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~furtherance

 

 

 

 

february is hardly new

     its weakened sky

the changing pitch of clouds

 

winter gauzing trees to cotton

the swells

still a killdeer's nest of nerves

 

sufferance, thy name is wind

squeezing an afternoon

mute with regard to its empty bowl

 

footsteps away, hard light

scatters from a variegated sun

 

it's a quarter to march

told the faded clockface

& I'm distracted to places

in old photographs

     my hands plead pale keepsakes

like night in empty depths

 

putty these versed scars

with necessity

bend stoic through the hold

those small sounds behind breath

that wait the dead

 

broad fields of cloth

    sounding of flags

 

you are only air now

& I own your ghost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  2.21.14 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~furtherance
 
 
 
 
february is hardly new
     its weakened sky
the changing pitch of clouds
 
winter gauzing trees to cotton

the swells
still a killdeer's nest of nerves
 
sufferance, thy name is wind
squeezing an afternoon
mute with regard to its empty bowl
 
footsteps away, hard light
scatters from a variegated sun
 
it's a quarter to march
told the faded clockface
& I'm distracted to places
in old photographs
     my hands plead pale keepsakes
like night in empty depths
 
putty these versed scars
with necessity
bend stoic through the hold
those small sounds behind breath
that wait the dead
 
broad fields of cloth
    sounding of flags
 
you are only air now
& I own your ghost
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  2.21.14 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #seasons  #introspection  #winter  #sadness  #emotional  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Stream of Consciousness

~drowning in the backwater

touch is a ritual

not a metaphor

it's a drunken migration

through my backyard

where the groundwater burns

where the air surrounding us

is mouthless & borrowing time

like circles of voices

bending echoes in the

unrelenting black

but as an aging mirror listens with

the trees

there is nothing more to hear

because the wind that was here

is gone

because hours long

night is dead verbs in an

uncrowded room

made of rain, made of breath

as we archive the scents of our ghosts

& I curl into a comma

my fingers are wet-knots of ink

with the burden of words

my body remembering when your body

was like summer & I was

an iris, unfolding

but now this bed shakes thunder

from a chimera sky

this bed is

heavy with bruised plums

heavy with you

lah  2.27.17 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Stream of Consciousness
~drowning in the backwater
touch is a ritual
not a metaphor
it's a drunken migration
through my backyard
where the groundwater burns
where the air surrounding us
is mouthless & borrowing time
like circles of voices
bending echoes in the
unrelenting black
but as an aging mirror listens with
the trees
there is nothing more to hear
because the wind that was here
is gone
because hours long
night is dead verbs in an
uncrowded room
made of rain, made of breath
as we archive the scents of our ghosts
& I curl into a comma
my fingers are wet-knots of ink
with the burden of words
my body remembering when your body
was like summer & I was
an iris, unfolding
but now this bed shakes thunder
from a chimera sky
this bed is
heavy with bruised plums
heavy with you









lah  2.27.17 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #relationships  #thoughts  #personal  #marriage  #introspection  #sadness  #streamofconciousness  #divorce  #separation  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~credence

even if he were wind
dancing drunk, unrehearsed


asymmetrical in his stammer

& stagger
slightly dazed on a ledge
mumbling about Dante


& even if she were clouds
saturated, trembling
suffused by violet confusion
as if her raw posture
begs war


could they founder like rain
come together in healing

relinquish affinity
& charm the gods?











lah  4.6.14 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~credence
even if he were wind
dancing drunk, unrehearsed


asymmetrical in his stammer
& stagger
slightly dazed on a ledge
mumbling about Dante


& even if she were clouds
saturated, trembling
suffused by violet confusion
as if her raw posture
begs war


could they founder like rain
come together in healing

relinquish affinity
& charm the gods?











lah  4.6.14 ©®
#poetry  #life  #reflection  #love  #alcohol  #relationships  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #sadness  #retrospection 
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