i do not understand
this book you left me
it serves as an axe
ready
for the frozen sea within me
and i fear it
though i have never
rung the bells of bedlam
or taken little white erasers
from nursely hands
i find it hard to speak to
insanity
but oh she is listening
like pillows
her yellow eye
vulnerable
to each gesture
each pebble rattling
in the hut of my
throat
and my voice
now borrows henry ii’s
as he dies
sewing his sons’ turncoats
and i hear
eleanor is still
puffing on his ashes
you smoke the same
cigarettes
long-tipped
mean and
mad
and i hesitate
to write my
taste for
black
of its noodle arms
of it’s quiet affair
with worms
their little mouths
serenading a grave
sleeping fitfully
without
me
still being sheltered
under apollo’s frock
my tan legs pirouetting
with nebula’s seven sisters
and their fat mother dawn
but
when did this mountain
get so high
or silk turn so
stern
i thought your death
was enough
sitting in some terrible chapel
your limbs eaten like
perfect peppermints
after the main meat of
dented head
i was the good granddaughter
speechless even to echoes
and i rubbed against sanity
like a little cat
content to dine only
on the bones of
bone
yet your june bird
has returned
flapping its yeast wings
your dough breast calling
like a strawberry
little flea
pretty pink thing
come flee with me
so we can sing to ponds
dotted with candles
10,000 strong
and we shall keep such sweet
company
good people
i have not said
yes
though i have read her music
and found it lovely
august and her sun
still plant footprints
in my spine
and pillows are still only
pillows
but
she rides beside me
for groceries
for laundry
out on balconies and bridges
her hands holding out
pills and nails
&
tonight
i am tired
of being
courageous
Author notes
...for teresa...
onerios13
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 20 of 20
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I don't exactly know what to say other than wow. Your imagery is wonderful. Your flow good. Your choice of words outstanding. Good job. thanks for sharing this with us.
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favorite. ever.
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I feel bad for not commenting your poetry more, but every time I read one, it's just like zillion said, what the hell do I say to that?
You're such a deep and wise person, beautiful through your words and actions. This was amazing, and deserves nothing less than gold 
Jeanette*~
P.S. never shred anything! everything from that noggin of yours is brill
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ZOMD! You are one of my new favorite poets. Seriously. 'Bells of beldam' Your ending. The spacing of the words. Its all so different from the norm. That makes me like it so much MORE! Really great writing!
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I am glad you didn't disassemble your poetry though I understand how cathartic it is and the duality is fighting the thoughts that walk with you through your new routines and still feeling the push and pull of being both chained and unchained. Your style is unique. You tied the piece up perfectly with the tired of being courageous, it was a brave statement and if most of us were honest we would say we could relate to that feeling. Kudos.
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Thank you, darling...for both the praise the understanding of the underlining reason of this poem. As always you have the words which I seldom possess to explain myself, and as always, even if I did possess them, you would still do them far better justice.
I am blessed to have your enlightenment shine down on both me and my little pieces of poetry. 
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You have the most amazing mind I have EVER encountered...
Such thoughts that pour out and even though I am not partial to long drawn out poems...yours never disappoint and I find myself hanging on every single syllable. I know you wrote in your AN that you hate this but girl it is a necessary evil sometimes that we must do...with dread. Never shred your work...it would be just wrong
You have more talent in your eyelash than most in their entire body...come check out my contest please. I need something worth reading in it and it is BIG points as well. ardentMarch is co-hosting it...skip on over, I'll pour you a stiff one and you can hammer me out some gray-matter...lol.
☼Becky☼
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The mind boggles. I would so love to crawl inside your mind; set up a little tent and have a few drinks while pondering the depth of such poetry. Maybe if I stay there long enough I can get some sort of poetic equivalent of a Green Card and write like this too HAHA!
This is just fan-dabey-dozey, dripping with imagery as always and leaving the reader feeling like their skin has been peeled right off.
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Your mind is a scary, scary place...
lol. Outstanding, felt like I was strolling somewhere
without a map, and didn't care.
This is so good, hon.
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C
Print another copy out and shred to your hearts content!
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this is one of those poems that you read and say "shit, what do I say to that?". Out loud even sometimes. Good thing no one's home to hear me.
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Thankfully you don't have to say anything...the laugh you gave me was more than enough.
My thanks.
(Now get back into my Bell Jar where you belong! )
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I'm goin', I'm goin'.
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How do you fit all that in your head?
I love all the images you used here, without making this poem feel cluttered, it was really a meandering through your mind, and I am always happy to find that in poetry.
Wonderful.
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I am happy this has not found the shredder, the balanced rhythem were blurred behind the imagery,
It held its pace like a classical score, and I enjoyed it. Best of luck in the contest, this is beauty in the dramatic form. very nice.
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necessary.
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baby, oh baby...............i have not cried at a poem in a long time.....thank you, and i love you....you know this...
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You bring out the worst in me...I hate you for making me so fucking vulnerable...even as I love you to pieces for refusing to allow me to hide behind simplier, happier words.
But still:
DAMN YOU!!!!
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i can still get that plane ticket and come paddle yo ass...watch it missy!
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How you can you still make me laugh when I want to murderize your little butt??
You dabblin' in that ole black magick, kiddo?
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