Words That Change

Diary of an Unborn Writer #45 – Liberated Poem

In poem on 12 March, 2010 at 17:35

We’ve been calling in an awesome tinted swirl. That this wasn’t for another, it was for someone else at all. We’ve been watching in a squall for moving to emerge and take us from our island we saw from movie theatre chairs and looked at each other as the silver scattered shadows between our faces

and asked.

What was in the space as your head leaned to mine and your hair smelled of cigarettes and incense from a hippy store and sky opened above our heads and made rolling clouds for us and made us beckon to the ground beneath our wings.  We asked it to come up and be our friend.

Birds fall down in empty streets and give a beggar your small change, strike a match ‘cos where he’s come from isn’t where you’re going. He has asked and found that what goes around was the magic of a Tuesday when you came round to eat. The air passed between in shrouds. The table was simple and you looked deafening even when making a funny faces because the brocolli was undercooked. When you offered a cheek to say goodbye my mouth faltered to your lips. It was embarassing but you said nothing in that way you can.

I miss you is what I am trying to say.

In the forests there was loneliness and pastures begged for company and the wind between buildings blew my misery to shame and after that there was a staircase down which rolled down many flowers we were lying at the bottom and they rolled into our mouths. I had a marigold between my teeth and you had a golden daffodil.

Last night was the craziest dream I ever had. It had lightening, which means to Red Indians that I am a clown. I looked over my shoulder and at shoulder height you stood, you came closer and leaned a chin so my lips rested next to yours. But not quite touching, I didn’t falter this time. Then an eagle – another healer – came and swept you off to Jersey so you could live with your friends in the sea.

I was here, still, but didn’t miss you as another came to stay her name was Fairy light and could not have been more different to you. For you are evil and manipulative and the enemies of freedom are knocking down your gates and if the eagle was a monster it was a better end for you. You would dream and in your sleep I had grown tired of waking you when asked where you are I’ve given up making an excuse.

I’m still here and flower tips, unopened lips and beggars’ skies we used to lean on pass between us in streams. We have nothing more to say and we’ve gone our separate ways and asked for lies to be spared and the comforts erased. No really you are fine, it was me all the time, it was taken from a book and edited to rhyme. That Tuesday we reset the clock so I never saw you naked, never even dreamed that this was about us at all.

Marigolds and daffodils make fine decorations but vegetables hold more to tell a tale.

Marigolds and daffodils make fine decorations but vegetables hold more to tell a tale.

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  1. I dreamed you read me some lines of this. It tastes yummy – like fresh mountain flowers dappled with sparkling pure mountain dew – and you put them in a ziplock bag and run down from the mountain so we can all taste the experience you had. You know? Love you bro.

  2. I would like to quote a piece of this poem in mine. You inspire me, and sometimes it seems as if you’ve lived the exact moment I have. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. And of course I will show it to you first…

  3. Hi 365,

    Nothing would please me more. Isn’t stealing the highest form of art, anyway? Please quote away and do show the poem when it’s done. Very nice!

  4. Sort of the reply, excuse, whatever you want to call it to the one above. If you don’t like it, I will keep it private. 🙂 Feel free to delete and also if you do like it to tell me how to acknowledge your lines.

    Dear Love,

    “No really you are fine,
    it was taken from a book and edited to rhyme.”
    How I loved you!
    Insipidly addictedly
    without breath or reason
    after much quoted works
    and immortalized paintings.
    I missed you yesterday
    when I cut a nail too short
    and it snagged on my panties
    I could hear you laughing
    pulling me to your neck where it smells
    slightly like you
    and “the flower tips, unopened lips”
    right after they were opened by you
    as you made love to the vagina of my mind
    with things I never thought I’d know to be true
    from anyone least of all you
    when I was so nothing
    and then…
    I wasn’t that way anymore.
    We’ve climbed into dreams
    not dreamt nor dared to be
    and plumbed what if’s and why’s
    endlessly wrapped into us
    where hours bled
    and time was an instant and forever
    walking on distant shores
    away and outside our lives
    addicted to the seconds we had
    and parting like we’d never again.

    But I married poems, solitary thoughts,
    the silence and the never knowing.
    You were too many answers too easily
    touching everything so deep
    and sure and knowing what I thought
    before I knew and how was I to live
    when it had all been done before?

    “I miss you is what I am trying to say”
    but somehow there must be me before
    there is an us. I’m still here, and
    that piece of you. I carry it with me when I struggle
    with science classes and how to pay the bills
    and funny things come up only you
    could laugh about. I miss you and even want you
    til I drown on myself
    writing poems in my sleep to us,
    what never should have been
    but already was-
    Is.

  5. Killer last stanza you are a wordsmith, my hat off to you….

  6. […] Dear Love, “No really you are fine, it was taken from a book and edited to rhyme.” […]

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