Allyce May• Show poetry

I am ALLEEEEECE!

Come impress me and Nicolette! Do it now! http://allpoetry.com/contest/2417639


Poems written for me, by the very talented people who keep me writing:


Arabella In Her Garden by grm

On the ramparts of silence, far inside the privet hedges, hours past dew and night’s bedeviling, she makes the glide between cloud and sun and settles, a Wryneck empty of everything outside.
Here, shade trees hover. The glass pond refuses her reflection. Angel Trumpets and Cereus sleep—moonflowers with no place among the bright.
“Zip that worm,” she murmurs, “it’s not about duets or balance.”
The Gladioli preen like faeries. Sundials chuckle and whisper rude remarks. Chance plays no part in so much blue and green; life has its way, remorseless.
“I am Ghost,” she says, “the space between now and then. My heart is a weight.”
Sentinel trees quiver and hush. They recognize truth.
Faraway, a house leans.
“We hold,” say the stones beneath her feet, but her stare is ten thousand miles distant.

Tiny things without noise cluster, germinating in her sound.
Inside her voice is another, one closer to the moon.
“This...is my day,” she sighs, “the steps I take, my unheard dreams.”
“Fortune,” say the lilies.
“Nuance,” claim the weeds.
“We are always,” pride the roses.

Arabella tips smiling toward a ring of clover. Some luck, some promise waits there. It doesn’t lie or make excuses. It is what it is.
Her hands make obeisance to the wind. Behind her, a Chyrsthanimum winks, full of itself.
“I give you my breath,” she offers, loose in throat and bone. “All of what is left, thoughts and flesh, everything I could say and each of those I could not.”
The North and West look down, cautiously. Stars begin to gather and speculate.

Night crowds, impatient. It’s hungry for her hands.
“I am here,” she says, cool and unblemished, “I am always here.”

Faraway, a house leans.
On its back, stairs. On its face, history.
In its guts, a story.

~~*~~

http://allpoetry.com/poem/4639055
http://allpoetry.com/grm



Rays Of Light by JustRob

Your pomes cavort in my psyche
like rays of light from a
distant window
that turns rain into diamonds
that wed me to phrases
of innumerable nomenclatures,
all hard softness
and wet kisses from a cloud, a
blunt instrument.

They invade me like a subliminal earthquake
that stalks the staunchest foundation,
probing for cracks,
finding the ones with the keys
to my mother’s spine
like warm nurses with hammers
and therapeutic appliances.

Your metaphors make a bison of me,
wooly, and nearly extinct,
domesticated, and
burn down all my fences
with the fire of deeper verses that
alight in the dawn of my eyes.

http://allpoetry.com/poem/4011045
http://allpoetry.com/Just%20Rob






We Stand at the Head of Your Stairs by grm

dyspeptic, say dawn

waggling like calcium behind gapped teeth,
we
wrangle a moment, shushed by a finger to lips

down here,
in the corner of a third floor cold-water flat,
taking penance and absolution
from the flack and glory of Hi-Def TV,
as if we had religion
or credit with Home Shopping Network,
believing in backseat economics
and dashboard saviors

today,
we took inspiration out of our closet,
just to see if it fit,
maybe
just to remember its name;
maybe

just to read what you threw away

trampling and trampolines,
you exhaled,
jumped-up and squaring my corners
with Nicolette,
smiling like beacons;
a far southern sun that plucked words
from deep water wells,
making us shimmer like new gold

we call you daughter,

enchantress

the speaker of things we could
never say ourselves


~~*~~

http://allpoetry.com/poem/4070001
http://allpoetry.com/grm