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Written by InkArtist in portal Micropoetry

~undertone

there are so many quiet words

to explain the way

I fall like snow

 

 

 

 

 

lah  2.20.12 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Micropoetry
~undertone






there are so many quiet words
to explain the way


I fall like snow
 
 
 
 
 
lah  2.20.12 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #micropoetry  #introspection  #emptiness  #depression  #quiet  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~notes on reconciliation

 

 

 

 

 

I imagined we were asleep

 

 

still unpaired

or perhaps unprepared

and aching to be lost in

a dream

 

 

quiet while the air moved

between us

 

 

unaware that forgiveness is

a red wall

with no windows

and the only way to see out

is to look within

and emerge like an august sun

full of warmth

 

 

to breathe together

and move together

in a moment

 

 

the way our lips trembled the words

like water

soft blue streams that pulled

what was left in the right direction

so we could find our way

back to each other

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  7.26.12 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~notes on reconciliation
 
 
 
 
 
I imagined we were asleep
 
 
still unpaired
or perhaps unprepared
and aching to be lost in
a dream
 
 
quiet while the air moved
between us
 
 
unaware that forgiveness is
a red wall
with no windows
and the only way to see out
is to look within
and emerge like an august sun
full of warmth
 
 
to breathe together
and move together
in a moment
 
 
the way our lips trembled the words
like water
soft blue streams that pulled
what was left in the right direction
so we could find our way
back to each other
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  7.26.12 ©®
#poetry  #life  #reflection  #love  #relationships  #thoughts  #personal  #marriage  #introspection  #divorce  #separation  #retrospection 
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There's just something about Nothing...
Written by InkArtist in portal Philosophy

~undefined metaphors

january makes me too bitter

for poetry, the way it

stings a menthol-cool vapor

like rubbing alcohol in

a childhood memory, a reminder

as I hibernate under a blanket

of empty white pages &

let the words accumulate

like regrets

or maybe truths

& dirty snow

deep with resentment

the exhales of handless clocks

or grey scribbles on

an unpainted wall

with nine nailholes

crooked & discriminatory

where darkness is like

gelatinous glass reflections

pulled to dim porch lights

because winter is open-mouthed

& the rebellion of

march resides next door

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lah  1.23.17 ©®

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There's just something about Nothing...
Written by InkArtist in portal Philosophy
~undefined metaphors





january makes me too bitter
for poetry, the way it
stings a menthol-cool vapor
like rubbing alcohol in
a childhood memory, a reminder
as I hibernate under a blanket
of empty white pages &
let the words accumulate
like regrets
or maybe truths
& dirty snow
deep with resentment
the exhales of handless clocks
or grey scribbles on
an unpainted wall
with nine nailholes
crooked & discriminatory
where darkness is like
gelatinous glass reflections
pulled to dim porch lights
because winter is open-mouthed
& the rebellion of
march resides next door
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lah  1.23.17 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #emptiness  #winter  #sadness  #writersblock  #retrospection  #SomethingAboutNothing 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~camouflaging ghostsmoke

 

 

 

 

 

winter

 

 

pine-scented wind

carries an effervescence

of evergreen

 

     and I ache to come in

     from the cold

 

     to climb back between

crisp sheets and heavy blankets

and sip sugared tea

 

curl into pages of the poem

I slept with last night

 

 

 

 

spring

 

 

his breath smells of hand-rolled

cigarettes

and my skin was like dogwood, fully

in bloom

 

     the clouds are dripping honey

 

and hummingbirds have forgotten how to

     fly

 

 

 

summer

 

 

rain sprinkles the cotton t-shirts

snapping on the neighbor's

clothesline

 

it's the coming of another angry

sky

 

and june's mock-orange already

fears the fall

     - her delicate pale petals

 

 

 

autumn

 

 

the horizon is unwashed

     dingy in its raw ash

 

leaves are burned out now, disheveled

losing their grip

 

this northdriven wind spits at my face

as if it wishes to grab me by the throat

 

      and steal away my voice

 

 

 

 

 

lah  3.20.14 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~camouflaging ghostsmoke
 
 
 
 
 
winter
 
 
pine-scented wind
carries an effervescence
of evergreen
 
     and I ache to come in
     from the cold
 
     to climb back between
crisp sheets and heavy blankets
and sip sugared tea
 
curl into pages of the poem
I slept with last night
 
 
 
 
spring
 
 
his breath smells of hand-rolled
cigarettes
and my skin was like dogwood, fully
in bloom
 
     the clouds are dripping honey
 
and hummingbirds have forgotten how to
     fly
 
 
 
summer
 
 
rain sprinkles the cotton t-shirts
snapping on the neighbor's
clothesline
 
it's the coming of another angry
sky
 
and june's mock-orange already
fears the fall
     - her delicate pale petals
 
 
 
autumn
 
 
the horizon is unwashed
     dingy in its raw ash
 
leaves are burned out now, disheveled
losing their grip
 
this northdriven wind spits at my face
as if it wishes to grab me by the throat
 
      and steal away my voice
 
 
 
 
 
lah  3.20.14 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #change  #seasons  #introspection  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~queue

shallow tonight

clouded above the sleeping

seeds

another black night's undisturbed

concentration ties knots

in this semblance of air

and it's here, where sky meets cedar

there exists a language known only

to darkness and owls

 

there's no offering of water

from the stream

no blue pressing the ground

 

~ ~

 

hours of lethargic hours

await the spring thaw

breath as white as tombstones

that kneel beside a bedful of

naked wind

 

those miles of undermining snow

 

the quietude is

what remains of winter's fire

 

  ~ ~

 

how many months does it take to remember

 

greenfoam singing to the reeds

and a tender curve of fetal

leaf-sprout

 

the tilt and swirl of hummingbirds

 

a brief flowering

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©  lah  3.2.14

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~queue
shallow tonight
clouded above the sleeping
seeds
another black night's undisturbed
concentration ties knots
in this semblance of air

and it's here, where sky meets cedar
there exists a language known only
to darkness and owls
 
there's no offering of water
from the stream
no blue pressing the ground
 
~ ~
 
hours of lethargic hours
await the spring thaw
breath as white as tombstones
that kneel beside a bedful of
naked wind
 
those miles of undermining snow
 
the quietude is
what remains of winter's fire
 
  ~ ~
 
how many months does it take to remember
 
greenfoam singing to the reeds
and a tender curve of fetal
leaf-sprout
 
the tilt and swirl of hummingbirds
 
a brief flowering
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
©  lah  3.2.14
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #change  #introspection  #winter  #pain  #spring  #sadness  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~tilting the axis

 

 

 

i.

my body remembers

assuming

there is intimacy

in a reticent sky

 

how it sounds like

the blues

          noted &

          gold-leafed

 

some song of drunkenness

tequila-infused in a flattened

C major

 

 

 

ii.

twenty-eight suns have

surrendered to february

crossed over the equivalent center

since we began to equate

the dynamic in counting clouds

          like doves

          & wedded bliss

 

an old moon

once perfectly round

has split in half

 

held in place by the grace

of gravity

 

cradled by persuasive darkness

 

 

 

iii.

secrets of light seduce

without warning

          time holds beneath dew

 

gathers on bones of morning

 

finds the soft edge, a hushed meadow

deer bedded in ragweed

          & prayers

 

where uneasy air startles

these drowsy fawns

muscle to flesh, reducing the reach

 

that space between mother

& child

 

the doe knows

wind is made of intuition

 

 

 

iv.

rearrange memories

          cleave the chest

acres of eyes

will dampen the stones

 

          rattle stars in a nightsky

 

a small voice

a thousand wings

          fluttering

 

 

 

lah  2.15.14 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~tilting the axis
 
 
 
i.
my body remembers
assuming
there is intimacy
in a reticent sky
 
how it sounds like
the blues
          noted &
          gold-leafed
 
some song of drunkenness
tequila-infused in a flattened
C major
 
 
 
ii.
twenty-eight suns have
surrendered to february

crossed over the equivalent center
since we began to equate
the dynamic in counting clouds
          like doves
          & wedded bliss
 
an old moon
once perfectly round
has split in half
 
held in place by the grace
of gravity
 
cradled by persuasive darkness
 
 
 
iii.
secrets of light seduce
without warning
          time holds beneath dew
 
gathers on bones of morning
 
finds the soft edge, a hushed meadow
deer bedded in ragweed
          & prayers
 
where uneasy air startles
these drowsy fawns
muscle to flesh, reducing the reach
 
that space between mother
& child
 
the doe knows
wind is made of intuition
 
 
 
iv.
rearrange memories
          cleave the chest
acres of eyes
will dampen the stones
 
          rattle stars in a nightsky
 
a small voice
a thousand wings
          fluttering
 
 




 
lah  2.15.14 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~unsheltered

I can't translate

the meaning

of how it feels

there is no noun

for that

in slow months of blues

I am evergreen

a desolate tree, pining

its needles, until they

lodge in the throat

like unspoken

verbs

I am sentenced to

the pressure of

holding still

planking flesh to bone

poems pressed into

the softened cartilage of

this heartcage 

the hardwood beneath

comforts me

reminds me I can't

fall any farther

lah  5.19.16 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~unsheltered







I can't translate
the meaning
of how it feels

there is no noun
for that

in slow months of blues
I am evergreen

a desolate tree, pining
its needles, until they
lodge in the throat
like unspoken
verbs

I am sentenced to
the pressure of
holding still

planking flesh to bone

poems pressed into
the softened cartilage of
this heartcage 

the hardwood beneath
comforts me
reminds me I can't
fall any farther




lah  5.19.16 ©®
#poetry  #life  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~the stifling

it must be autumn

         she is becoming uprooted

the air has loosened

seeped beneath another

half-closed door

she counts cigarettes & darkness

by decades

         words smoking under breath

passing through her, unheard

like echoes from hollows

coming too late

there's a dead bird below the pane

          & the river is thinning

lah  4.2.16 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~the stifling







it must be autumn


         she is becoming uprooted


the air has loosened
seeped beneath another
half-closed door


she counts cigarettes & darkness
by decades
         words smoking under breath


passing through her, unheard
like echoes from hollows
coming too late


there's a dead bird below the pane


          & the river is thinning





lah  4.2.16 ©®
#poetry  #reflection  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~afterword

this, I've learned from the quiet

from the breathing

in rooms where rain won't reach

in a house built from sheets

                                  of paper

a voice escapes the keyhole

& imagination follows

dismantling daylight & darkness

a calamity of strangled language

& thundering hoofbeats

stirring dust bottled in bluedark

veins

like inkstains of fine wine

if it is born of fire or water or air

                      it must be poetry

searching for the curve of

a listening ear

lah. 5.12.16 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~afterword







this, I've learned from the quiet


from the breathing
in rooms where rain won't reach
in a house built from sheets
                                  of paper


a voice escapes the keyhole
& imagination follows


dismantling daylight & darkness
a calamity of strangled language
& thundering hoofbeats
stirring dust bottled in bluedark
veins
like inkstains of fine wine


if it is born of fire or water or air
                      it must be poetry
searching for the curve of
a listening ear









lah. 5.12.16 ©®
#poetry  #life  #reflection  #thoughts  #personal  #introspection  #retrospection 
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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

~unbecoming

 

i.

few dare to come

 

to the edge of mourning

          where she grieves

 

the quickening

where soft meadow meets

an angry sun

          its insistent loud rising

always argues against the dawn

 

 

 

ii.

perhaps you thought

tuesday a new beginning

yet it arrives

a bruised pronunciation

of beating wings

 

          their familiar

          shade of winterblue

 

puddle-stains

the half-drunk tree

leaves behind

as if to drown

a bird's flight

 

old oak slumping over

heavy-shouldered

 

limbs propped against

an aging sky

 

 

 

iii.

tremble not

for stopped clocks

 

a wooden box

          borrowed from the grave

 

tremble not

the darkening as two shadows

meet

 

the rain will arrive soon

to spoil their appearance

 

 

 

 

iv.

she was earth

          the grounding

 

buried syllables, deeply rooted

noticeably red and

unread

holding the stillborn

 

she was soiled

 

the river once licked her hands

and swiftly ran away

 

 

 

 

 

 lah  2.6.17 ©®

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Written by InkArtist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
~unbecoming
 
i.
few dare to come
 
to the edge of mourning
          where she grieves
 
the quickening
where soft meadow meets
an angry sun
          its insistent loud rising
always argues against the dawn
 
 
 
ii.
perhaps you thought
tuesday a new beginning
yet it arrives
a bruised pronunciation
of beating wings
 
          their familiar
          shade of winterblue
 
puddle-stains
the half-drunk tree
leaves behind
as if to drown
a bird's flight
 
old oak slumping over
heavy-shouldered
 
limbs propped against
an aging sky
 
 
 
iii.
tremble not
for stopped clocks
 
a wooden box
          borrowed from the grave
 
tremble not
the darkening as two shadows
meet
 
the rain will arrive soon
to spoil their appearance
 
 
 
 
iv.
she was earth
          the grounding
 
buried syllables, deeply rooted
noticeably red and
unread
holding the stillborn
 
she was soiled
 
the river once licked her hands
and swiftly ran away
 
 
 
 
 
 lah  2.6.17 ©®
#poetry  #life  #reflection  #death  #nature  #thoughts  #personal  #grief  #emotion  #loss  #expression  #introspection  #pain  #sadness  #mourning  #alcoholism  #retrospection  #vignettes 
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