Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

The Continuity of Our Souls

October 16, 2017

You, my love, my lover–

Sunshine glowing over me,

The environment of my heart.

It grows.

Rich.

Verdant.

Green.

Vibrant.

Lush, this plane of existence,

I have stumbled upon.

Greeted by synchronicity.

Adoration of butterflies.

Susurration of trees.

Which whisper to me in your secret language

Upon my upturned face.

Heavy headed dahlias,

Sunsets of color on my

Cheeks, rising up from this garden

Of sensuousness.

Felt delight.

Spun out in gossamer.

In swaths of gold.

Held together by magic.

I am comforted.

I am held true.

Swaddled by this bliss.

I expand further soft.

Commingled in the dusk

Of rising stars on the

Horizon of your warm heat.

There stand I.

In awe.

In the still point of your heart.

My dearest darling dear.

I sing you this song until my breath collapses.

 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

The Universe

It cries out in the echo chamber of my soul.

And.

It assures me.

Yes it does.

It knows what it is doing.

 

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My Loving Present

October 13, 2017

You are my holy ideal.

My passion.

My archetype cohered to my heart.

Differentiated.

And.

Separated.

Yet.

Connected to this fire of love.

How I am put together.

Ingrained to my flexible soul.

All that stuff.

All these things.

Opening into space.

Breathing my heart open.

Opening me to more to be more.

I see a table-cloth, red checked.

Flaring out.

A blanket of hope and a lens too.

Complex and beatific.

Oh the awe for you of you about you.

The depth of you.

My value increasing with every breath.

Virtuosity in the cello string.

The thrum of my song of love.

Adoration of crows.

Murder of my ideas of who I am.

Into who I am becoming.

Filtered through this

Harrowing of you.

Exacerbate me.

Explode me.

And.

Reconstitute me.

In your love.

The fall from being.

Into your arms savages me and saves me.

Activating me.

Another layer comes forth.

Another exploration.

Basic trust.

Support.

Strength.

Foundational love.

My own capacity,

Opens.

My heart in my chest.

Exposed to the air,

The fire and heat of you.

I stand strong and still in this knowledge,

In my being.

I let myself bathe in the bliss

Of you.

Your love, flying in the

Face of impossibility.

Which guides me to my expansive

Home.

Embodied and alive.

In the benevolent glory,

The astonishing glow,

Of you.

Almost There

October 6, 2017

Almost to the weekend.

So close I can taste it.

I am ready.

I am so ready.

It’s been a long week, not horrible, just long.

I’ve seen my therapist, had a huge aha moment with her, felt some things get inwardly re-arranged and they’re still settling.

I saw my supervisor and we had an amazing session.

I have seen six clients this week.

I have two more to see tomorrow.

I have worked full days at work.

I have one more to go.

One more.

Then.

Saturday.

OH.

How I have been dreaming about you.

It just can’t get to me fast enough.

And the week has gone by pretty quick, for which I am grateful.

Sometimes anticipation of an event can make the time getting there super painful.

Exquisite pain.

“It’s almost Christmas!” My little girl charge said twirling around in her ballet leotard and tutu.

I hate to break it to you kiddo, but it’s the first week in October, it’s going to be a minute.

Despite, yes, ugh, seeing the first Christmas decorations up at Nordstrom’s Rack last weekend when I went to do some clothing shopping.

I mean, sure, they had some Halloween stuff up too, but really the bulk of it was Christmas stuff.

I was a touch horrified.

Let me enjoy the autumn please.

Let me have my Halloween.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?” My oldest boy charge asked me.

He was not satisfied with my response of “a nanny.”

“Come on!” He demanded.

“Um, a grad student?” I smiled.

“No!” He said, literally stomping his foot.

“What about a psychotherapist?” I added, trying not to chuckle too much at his expense, he was so serious.

“That’s not a costume!” He opened his eyes really big and huffed out air from his cheeks.

I don’t have a costume, although I could pull off a pin-up girl really easily, I have a couple of dresses that are retro pin-up.

But pin-up might be, um, well, a tad sexy for my nanny day job.

I might wear of Day of the Dead skull print dress.

It’s also a touch on the pin-up side, but I can down play the make up and hair, and make it cute instead of sexy.

Child appropriate.

I won’t see my therapist that day, she’ll be out of town, but I will have clients, at least I think I will have one, I have to double-check, it feels like one of them recently cancelled for that day, but I can’t remember off the top of my head.

So.

Whatever I do wear needs to translate to going in to my internship and seeing clients.

I get a head of myself.

It’s not Halloween yet.

Nor is it Christmas.

I am just anticipating my weekend.

And that’s enough.

I’m almost done with my antibiotics too.

Which is nice, they upset my tummy a bit.

I have one more day and then done with them.

I still have had intermittent tooth pain, but I’m dealing.

Just taking ibuprofen and trying to stay hydrated.

I feel like drinking more water is always helpful, no matter what.

I hope the pain passes.

I had it come on pretty bad yesterday at the end of the work day and it was distracting at my internship, then I woke up this morning and nothing.

A bit of pain in the late afternoon today, but end of day at work was doable.

It’s been not so hot over the past week.

I do hope it passes.

If it continues or gets worse I’m just going to suck it up and make another appointment and let my dentist poke around in there some more.

Not excited for that.

So.

Hey tooth fairy.

Cut this lady a little slack.

The dentist didn’t see any cavities, nothing showed up on the x-ray, so stop hounding me for a tooth, I ain’t got one to give.

Anyway.

Who cars about my teeth when the weekend is almost here.

I’m not excited, really, ha.

I have to also remember, in all the excitement to book my ticket for travel.

I need to book by October 15th.

Which means I should do it this weekend as next weekend, October 13th-15th, is a school weekend.

I am happy that I can still use the ticket and book flight.

It’s nice to look forward to travel.

Even if I won’t necessarily take it for a little while.

I will still get to take it and I won’t be throwing $435 down the drain.

I have wasted plenty of money on lesser things, but travel is sacred to me.

I love to get on a plane and go.

Oh.

I always want to come back home, but I do like to go somewhere new and explore it, sometimes I also want to go to somewhere I know.

I will always have a lech to travel to Paris, always.

It is familiar and still foreign enough and though I have been many times, there always is something new to see.

I almost found myself applying for a two month artist in residency for next year.

But then.

Haha.

I remember, um, you might be in school those two months.

Not going to happen.

It’s a prestigious fellowship.

It’s two months rent and $1,000 a month to support your time plus travel expenses.

Nothing to sneeze at.

I applied for it once, I think that’s why I got the notice in my e-mail today.

But I had to laugh after I took a minute to realize, of course I can’t go for two months to Paris in 2018 since I’m in school and have other really important obligations, but I laughed at the photo the fellowship was using as an enticement.

It was two people romantic and laughing in the sun on a bridge near Pont Neuf.

Which is a gorgeous and magical.

But the fellowship is for February and March.

Which are not sunny months at all.

AT ALL.

They are dark and cold and dreary and wet and rainy.

That photo definetly taken in summer or late spring.

Not way it was FEBRUARY.

Also it’s why, I bet, they do the fellowship at that time because it’s probably the least traveled time to go to Paris, thus cheaper, than any other time, maybe August, which is when the city basically shuts down in the heat and everybody leaves to go on vacation.

It was a lovely fantasy, though, to indulge in for a minute.

But really.

My time needs to be focused here.

Here is where it’s at.

All the things.

And Friday.

Hello weekend.

I have waited so long for you.

I can taste your nearness and it is maddening.

Seriously.

 

Writing You Love Letters

October 3, 2017

While you sleep.

The tears on my face still drying.

There are things I should do and things I could do.

But all I want.

All I ever want.

Is to be with you.

I want nothing more than to hold you close.

I die a little inside when I think about you being alone.

I don’t want you to be alone, I want you to be seen and held and strong and true.

I want you to know how much, how very much, I love you.

I know you say you know.

I know you do.

I know you know I adore you.

And I cannot stop saying the words.

Like the Raven in that one poem from long ago.

On a dark and dreary night who cannot stop repeating itself.

I repeat and repeat.

And it’s just true.

I can’t stop.

My heart fills with the music you send me.

You a poetry font of expression and longing and joy.

All wrapped up in a 90s love ballad.

You send me love letters in music.

It is the best.

It is beyond the best.

It is you tender and sweet and true.

Oh baby.

I miss you.

I do.

Once upon a time when I was a younger woman, a girl really.

Full of longing and unspoken need.

I would dream of someone like you.

Who would romance me with music.

Who would seduce me with song.

I would dance around my room alone and dream about you.

There are times I feel that I have dreamt you into being.

This revery that I am afraid to wake from.

A beauty so keen.

You have changed me.

I am in the presence of a dream.

I am smote.

You are my undoing.

And.

My doing.

You are my everything.

My dream made real.

My 90s love ballad come true.

 

Thinking About You

September 29, 2017

Hearing the reverb in a rock ballad.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

I feel like a young child.

Fixated on you.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

My is heart simple.

Almost seems to have lost its poetry.

Oh.

Song of mine.

When will I stop thinking about you?

Not till I see you again.

So.

I tell myself.

I have strength.

I have strength to withstand your absence.

I will live.

Even if.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

You.

My last thought at night.

You.

My first thought when I awaken in the morn.

You.

I can’t stop thinking about.

I miss you so.

Oh.

How I miss you.

I want to crawl into your bed.

In the middle of the night.

While the stars are still wheeling through the sky.

And.

The sun has not yet kissed the Earth’s horizon.

The light just about to change from dark to-day.

With the softest breath.

I would curl up against you.

Hold you.

Smell you.

Soothe myself by being near you.

So tired.

So sad.

So missing you.

I can’t fall asleep.

I want to listen to love songs and think about you.

Because I can’t stop thinking about you.

As if I can just keep thinking about you it will bring you back home.

I have been looking for you for so long.

Not knowing you were looking right at me.

And now that I know.

Well.

You’ve heard this refrain before.

But.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

And right now.

I am in your room.

I am looking at your sleeping face against its pillow.

I am kissing you.

I won’t wake you up.

I know you need your rest.

I know.

But I will kiss your face nonetheless.

I will frame it with my hands and touch your hair.

I will kiss your collar-bone.

And when you shift and stir and blink open your eyes.

I will be gone.

But still there.

In the flashing stars outside your window.

In the soft night air.

The stars can’t stop thinking about you either.

I miss you so.

I know.

I’m just repeating the words.

But as long as I am writing poetry about you.

Well.

I know you are with me.

And I can withstand.

I can wait.

I can.

Even though.

I just can’t.

No I really can’t.

Stop.

Thinking.

About.

You.

You Are Seasonal

September 22, 2017

Not just one season.

Not just the brightness of summer.

The thunderstorms.

The heat.

The lushness.

Yes.

You are all these things.

And.

You are also in the whisperings of fall.

The coolness of your cheekbones

How the falling light glances off

Their planes and there.

A light flares inside me.

A bonfire of longing.

I smell you in this season too.

I sense you in the softening sweetness

Of things ripe and full.

I ripen thinking about that.

Your euphoric smell.

The plushness of your mouth.

An apple cider song.

I suspect I shall see you in all seasons.

All hours.

All days.

How I wish to see what winter light looks like

Upon you.

A snowflake soft explosion such as one cannot imagine.

Bonny boy.

And.

Oh.

Burgeoning spring.

I see you there too.

But it is right now.

In.

This moment.

This cooling of air,

That calls to me.

I wish to hold your hand and kick through

Fallen leaves with you.

To tussle to the ground.

To see your smile, your eyes alight.

I imagine your face framed in golds,

Burnished reds.

Burnt oranges.

Flaming yellows.

Richest browns.

No beauty that surpasses

The handsomeness of your face.

Only a frame to outline its glory.

Another picture I shall hang.

In the gallery.

Of.

My.

Heart.

Blossom Song

September 19, 2017

The way you look at me.

The way your eyes follow my face.

Leaving me melting on the floor.

A pool of desire, lapping warm at my ankles.

My face sweltering with love, a heat shined

Brighter than the moon in darkest skies.

You.

Are.

Exquisite.

Like plum trees

Blooming out of season.

The petals fresh surprised in autumnal air.

Magic that kisses me senseless.

I am without shame.

My need for you subsumes all doubt

With wild veracity.

And now, as I look out across the expanse of space ahead of me.

I sense you there.

On the horizon.

So near.

Like a taste that just alludes memory.

I sense your sweetness in the cinnamon tea I drink.

Reflected in the freckles on my face,

Planted there like promises of kisses on my cheeks.

Ghost leftovers of love smattering my skin.

There is music.

There too, your hands.

Navigating their way through my hair.

Oh.

Slippery time.

I wait for you to pass.

In colors midnight blue

And longing.

Wearing Elvis Presley shoes.

And.

Swagger.

March along.

Move along.

Take that road home to you.

My baby.

I’m waiting.

Just waiting.

Over there.

Beneath that canopy of

Soft purple pink

Blooming sweet fruit promises.

Ensorcelled.

I am so ready for you.

Sweep me up.

Again.

Baby.

Please, baby, please.

In the crooning cradle.

Of.

Your.

Temptuous.

Love.

Song.

 

Smash Me

September 16, 2017

Baby.

Demolish my heart.

Blow me up.

Smithereens.

Kisses like the pause between lighting.

And.

Thunder.

I like your smash.

Baby.

I do.

Oh.

God.

I do.

You drive me crazy, baby.

You knock me out.

I go insane for you.

I hold my breath.

I see stars.

I lose all control.

You break me asunder.

I am all tied up in you.

Heart to heart.

Skin on skin.

Sinking into all that is you.

Becoming all that is us.

Blown apart and mashed back together.

The heat in my face.

The glow in your eyes.

The light playing over your skin.

The way I feel you in my body, an ache.

A knowing.

A fire stoked.

The nexus of you.

Pulsing in me.

Smashed right to my core.

Centralized.

Crystalized.

Captured.

You in my being.

You at my center.

You.

And

Flushed.

Now I sit.

Flashed out in memory of just moments ago.

Already aching to see you again.

I’m not dying.

Baby.

I’m just in love.

So.

Smash me.

I’m always gonna want your smash.

I can’t wait to see you again.

My mouth already anticipating.

The feel of you.

The touch of you.

The slick, soft, sexy.

I’m so damn in it.

I’m so all about you.

Smash.

Me.

Baby.

I’m absolutely.

Begging.

You.

Pretty.

Pretty.

Please.

 

The Language of Love

September 11, 2017

Truths that we experience without speaking.

A synthesis of our kisses.

The emotions expressed in the color of your face.

In the push of your lip.

In the crinkle of laugh lines around your eyes.

You say so much to me.

My heart swells.

The over arching expression of wholeness when I am held by you.

A bubble of time and space that is infinite.

Expansive.

Delirious.

Sometimes I catch you looking at me and I lose my breath.

Sometimes I look at you.

And the wilderness of joy that breaks out inside me.

Well.

It is wondrous.

The opulence of you.

The shine.

Your comeliness makes me swoon.

And your charm.

It is lavish and magnificent.

Our language is poetry and magic.

Music lyrics.

And.

Laughter.

Great big guffaws of it.

You make me sing with laughter.

It spills from me like sunshine.

And sometimes.

When you are far I still feel that you are speaking to me.

I feel it in my body, an ache, incessant, in my bones.

That you touch me without even being in the same room as me.

Your love overspills the boundaries of time and distance.

It kisses me on my forehead.

My cheeks.

My tender face.

Glowing for you in the dusky light just after sunset.

Glimmering at you in my own language of love.

That you may decipher in codes ancient.

A language that needs no words.

Only the smile of you to unlock the meaning.

And I know.

All the way through my body.

How you cherish me.

And you must know.

Yes, you must.

Love.

How.

I.

Cherish.

You.

 

 

 

The Lady Who Waits

September 8, 2017

It has been too long.

Too long by far.

I remember the last time I saw you.

Standing on the corner of Mission and 10th.

Insouciant.

Perfect in the golden afternoon sunlight.

Inside I swooned with wonder.

And.

Pain.

It was going to be a long, long time, until I kissed your face again.

The hours ticked by so slow.

The thickness of honey and crystalized molasses.

But.

Not so sweet.

Rather.

Tender.

This longing growing and growing.

Over blowing my heart.

Aching and full with the promise of seeing you again.

I did not count the days.

I counted the hours.

The minutes.

The seconds.

Until now.

The hours have at last melted into the sands of time.

And soon.

OH.

So soon.

You will be here.

I have opened my home to you.

I have left all the doors unlocked.

I shall lay slumbering.

Perhaps dreaming.

Always I dream of you.

The song of you on my lips when I swan into bed.

The kiss of you on my face as I rise.

Waiting for you.

The touch of you.

The feel of you.

I want all the weight of you upon me.

I want every bit of skin to sink into me.

I await.

How I shall fall asleep?

Knowing that when next I wake you will be here with me.

Such is the conundrum in my heart.

Such sweet consternation this.

The night is on fire.

I am on fire.

You have lit me and torched I wait.

Subsumed.

I wait.

To assimilate you back into my life.

I cannot wait.

And.

Yet.

I do.

Just here.

On the edge of my chair.

On the edge of the night.

Waiting on the ledge of the waning moon.

For you.

Waiting for that cup of sweetness that is you.

So keen on you.

I am.

Devoted.

So.

Sleep.

I plead for.

Sweet slumber.

Grant me some small respite.

Until I have sunk into the lull.

Of time.

In between the kisses you plant upon me.

Wherein I can.

Once again.

Breathe in

All.

The gallant.

Lushness.

Of.

You.

 


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