Poetry rounds her world
in the quiet of shoe box memories
open and airy
an expansion of sketched sounds that fill her head
like fractured light filters through curtains
complexly twisted into creation of self
scary shapes lie just beneath soul
concrete images molest her mind
and she writes
strokes pages gently
in search of everything
a Sunday kind of dreamer
I I.
Conversations wash over her fresh faceI I I.
illuminated by sunsets and covered with dream-dust
lips quiver beneath glances
ripe words lay thick on tongue
an inhale of adjustments made
unable to deliver a taste of seasons
God weeps for her
in a singular moment of metaphors
High voltage hope hangs
in misty morning colors of a rainbows arch
gentle winds bend laughter
dreams flutter like firefly wings
in the area behind eyes
emotion swims through her veins
a mere shade of introspect
IV.
She seeks only shelter from angles
to laugh at cloud shapes like a child and count backwards
riding waves where parallel waters intersect
a lifetime away from romance
so let her, please just let her pretend
to be weak in the knees
with confident kisses beneath flirty glances
and let her write about it later
at the black and white intersection of pen point
where she releases love beats of her heart
holding his smile between her hands
1/02/09
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
A pleasure to read and become enveloped within each vignette, wish I'd thought of " a Sunday kind of dreamer" and liked the repetition along with " at the black and white intersection of penpoint" Kudos.
