i could not get you back
except between 3 to 5 am
and reluctantly you’d come
with bach on your back
and plath strapped
like a cocked hat
to your forehead
and we’d sit across a table
in the kitchen
my face
your face
and little cups silent of tea
i tell you
i had your portrait done
complete with nosebleeds
and you’d laugh
like a cracked peanut
and ask
were my teeth done right
did they catch the crack of my femur
the hole in my skull
when they freed four season
demons swimming inside
they still ride
you know
but only on the outside
oh yes
they’ve captured
your thumbscrew eyes
your red bugle tongue
your fall-down frame
every muscle
painted a warm chocolate stone
but it did not come cheaply
sold our god to get it done
but he went willingly
like a good dog
his cheeks cold as a cross
because i had failed
to hold him up to the sun
she nods
her colicky eyes
fading
chewing knuckles white as stars
her narrow shoulders reminding me
she needs to head home
before morning sends her
another bill
and now noon is
lonely
she has returned to teach
mozart for pennies
because heaven is broke
and cries like a hungry piggybank
for god is on loan
on layaway
to a field of ponies
and the demons
that lean forward
on their milky backsides
to catch her
before she makes it back to
night
and little cups silent of tea
and i am left
with her portrait
no more a bone talker
her face
is
my face
questioning
my guilt as to why do i
disturb her exile
&
i answer quietly:
because i hate to sleep alone
A contest entry
- Inside a tremble by zochit2me.
4200 points, ended August 6, 2008, 14 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 24 of 24
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Grrr it makes me so mad trying to comment your poetry because I HATE leaving short comments, but with yours I'm seriously speechless every time!
Agreed with Sailor, it deserves a gazillion goldies 
I had my eye on that contest for a while and I just knew you'd win. Amazing sweetycake 
(oooh I'm so hungry 
)
Jeanette*~
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oh wow!
"and i am left
with her portrait
no more a bone talker
her face
is
my face
questioning
my guilt as to why do i
disturb her exile
&
i answer quietly:
because i hate to sleep alone"
loved the ending!
really great work here, hope I get to read more from you soon
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It's hard to let the dead go...but then, they never really leave us.
. This was absolutely fantastic. Best poem I've read on this site. I was brought here by -BlackKnight-, and I'm glad I stopped by. He said you had a way with metaphor, and I agree 200%. The ending is so full of loneliness and longing, it tightened my throat. And the title...bloody haunting. You're going on my favorites right now .
-joan.
.
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ahhh. I love it. God, it's so sad, what a way to go to bed . But, despite the sadness, it refreshes me, which is nice, considering i recently got off work at Starbucks after making a million drinks for people today lol...well, technically yesterday .
Ok, imma stop with this comment, because only incoherent scribbling will be written from here on out, as I'm exhausted. It's beautiful, and sad, and blinding, and deserves a gazillion goldies.
Meg~
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Tired, incoherent or not, you are still the cutest thing under sun and moon!
Thank you, m'pet. You make me purr...
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ahaha, I can't wait for your next poem
Oh, I forgot to say... I LOVE The title. I admit to having a morbid fascination with bones lol. I want to be a forensic anthropologists so I can study them. So just reading your title made me dance a mini tango
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That's too funny! I always wanted to be an egyptologist when I was younger...and yes, I adore anything to do with foresics...wanted to be a biopsychologist back in the day, but they didn't offer the classes.
lol
Maybe that's why I collect books on serial killers, eh?
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I'm obsessed with the T.V. show BONES. Sooooo great.
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congrats on the gold, I love this poem & I'm very honored you entered our contest
thanks again
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You are such a wonderful writer! This was just beautifully and sadly done. Great job. I loved it.
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Thank you angel...as always you are far too kind to my little bits of poetry.
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whoops, that was supposed to be three claps.
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i don't know what to say, i am a but repetitive when it comes to your writing.
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'and you’d laugh
like a cracked peanut'
This is soooo original.
'your red bugle tongue
your fall-down frame'
You have an unusual sense of imagery that I have fallen in love with. *steals your muse* I'll give it back when I'm done...
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'and you’d laugh
like a cracked peanut'
This is soooo original.
'your red bugle tongue
your fall-down frame'
You have an unusual sense of imagery that I have fallen in love with. *steals your muse* I'll give it back when I'm done...
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oh, yeah, I read it as 'little cups of silent tea', too, on a few reads, it's only now, I noticed the line is actually:
"and little cups silent of tea"
It's so funny how our brains do this. Now I just think how the cups don't even have tea in them anymore... sad....
let me know if you edit..but either way, I like those lines & feel that they work
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If a poem is going to be a long one, it sure as hell better be as good as this one
I love this, there are so many excellent lines within this poem, I don't even know where to begin
There's nothing I'd change, however going from you in the first part of the poem, to she, threw me off a little, but I think it's just that you speak to her & then the reader, after being alone...
which brings me to your ending, so powerful, it gave me goosebumps & tears, a poem has not done that to me in a very long time, thank you..
This makes me think of letting the dead have their peace.
My grandmother told me to never grieve too long for people after they've left us...otherwise, their souls would not rest.
I love it, thank you SOOO much for entering this poem into our contest, it fits the contest theme so well, too..
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Chilling...
Simply chilling and you did dig deep for this one dear. There are a few "and" and "the" that I feel could be tightened but certainly not taking away from the piece. You always have such unique phrases like laughed like a cracked peanut. I must admit the silent tea felt odd to me at first read but after the third it grew on me...lol.
my personal evaluation and I may be totally wrong is this sorta is like a reflection of yourself...but then again, this can be taken several different ways and that's what makes a poet good...in my opinion. A very welcomed piece to this contest. My co-host will be around to read soon.
☼Becky☼ -
this is perhaps my favorite of yours
it is a heartwrenching journey.. beautifully written
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You are so lovely...in both person and poetry. I can't thank you enough for your kind praise and warm support.
You will always be my little kitty Cat.
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One wonders why when there is a problem we drag the good china out and drink copious amounts of tea?? It never helps anything other than quench a thirst. Love, C
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"i had your portrait done
complete with nosebleeds"
- A great line. Again, a few trims here
and there and this could be even more effective.
I know I say that a lot when I stop by your work,
but really, that is the only problem I usually
find in your work. I think the metaphors and how
they play out is very modern. This seems worded
strange: "before she makes it back to
night
and little cups silent of tea"
- The last line is what throws off the image
I think. "silent of tea", is just awkward.
Anyways, a very vocal piece. The last line
makes the poem come together nicely. So yes,
a few nits here and there and this could
become, dare I say, perfect. You know how
to take me places. That's for sure.
;
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me, too.
As always, I have enjoyed
your work. Love, Lane
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Yes ...
that explains everything.
It must be something in the tea.
This is quite an intriguing write.
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