Archive for category Poetry
Welcome to the new Poetic License. Morning Erection’s Poetic License now focuses solely on one poet and four of their new poems. The poems you read today are being featured here and are presented to the world for the first time anywhere. Enjoy these works of verbal art now and then you can find more of at Blaga’s blog, Broken Sparkles.
It takes so long to sneak in my heart,
what an ecstasy against solitude and sour winds.
The first colors, the melody of flowers,
there isn’t agony in the sway under the rain.
And you and I, dire souls in sunset flames,
between white rock-roses and swan feathers,
we honor the rebirth of our bodies.
Together we morn the death of frost and névé,
to savor the warmth in a bed of coals
and entrust the last rays of candled light
with our desires and the taste of kismet.
And when the rainbows lead us to the garden
of bitter- sweet reminiscence, the innocence
of our fairytale only beautifies Spring and this poem.
I long for your touch, for your golden eyelashes.
Mute and absent, I drink in every glimpse of a flame.
A fantasy with lavender fields doesn’t comfort me,
I desire a reality with lilac fragrance on my lips.
I follow a trace to your heart, a blissful grasp,
to your caress, a sense of wild ocean’s lints.
I seek for the origins of your soul through
the whirling sensation of the satin sands on my skin.
I want to be a part of the sunrise luminosity,
a sparkle in the texture of the sultriness in the air,
I dream to inhale your smile of sapphires,
and I walk without a wince through
the blazing green of the majestic grass,
embracing intensely the kiss of Summer.
Lost in a storm of amber leaves, I waste
the last drop of summer to save a whisper
from the climbing roses you laid out for me,
to hold their ruby glow with the risk to blind me.
No butterflies, no blossoms stay behind to see me cry
together with the inevitable mist of clouds.
Over drowned solstice fires, I harvest the seeds of grief,
your face grows dim, consumed by the revenge of Nature.
I wake up, naked, in a naked forest, hazel shadows
sword your message through the wind. And the skies,
a pallet floating in gruesome hue and saturation,
remind me of roads never traveled,
of lands never swept by innocent laughter,
of broken hearts that declare the debut of Autumn.
Brutal love, lonely promises in frigid, velvet gowns,
the sun has turned back on you, on me, on hope.
We all weep, conquered by sable tears,
by javelins of fables and rue, asking why?
Why did he end the passion, the blush of pretty garlands,
merrily pirouetting over the ivory beauty of snow?
Who let him lash out at the gift of fantasy and flowers?
What soul, what consciousness he shares?
And as the freezing nights separate us with blizzards,
with lifeless words of unwritten ballads, I see
how every dawn is secretly charged with fake summers,
but no answer is granted, only thorns and wounds,
cleaving the last sensation left into ruins, guarding
the silent power and the crystal tiara of lady Winter.
For I Cannot Forget U But Heaven Knows I Would Not Try
by Tom Baker
i cannot forget you
though why would i try for
now that the seed of friendship has been
implanted and watered in my cardiac soil
i cannot forget you
as you’ve sprouted those roots
and taken firm hold beneath the
love and music played by my heartstrings
i cannot forget you
your foundation in me runs deep
to the fiber of my very being
far enough to alter my soul
i cannot forget you
nor pretend that it’s an option
my stems and my blossom now turn to your heart
basking in the sunshine that is u
for i cannot forget you…
but heaven knows i would never try
t’would be futile to turn
to turn away from love
Welcome to the new Poetic License. From now on Morning Erection’s Poetic License will focus solely on one poet and four of their new poems (three this month). The poems you read today are being featured here and are presented to the world for the first time anywhere. Enjoy these works of verbal art now and then you can find more of Kymmie at her blog, the KymmieTheWriter.
The Struggles Of A Heartbreaker
I wanted to be your biggest obstacle.
The rain that hits your umbrella,
the sun that shines in your eyes,
the pain that causes your cries,
but in that moment you showed me and told me that your love was like Teflon,
too strong for any hurt I could bring on, so I could go on and fade on..
If only I could capture you. I’d be your slave owner, you’d be my slave.
Causing wet cheeks and make up stains, is what I’d do to ease my pain.
I’d whip your heart and no man above could save you, Cause when in Rome you do as the Romans do.
But before I could be your hearts reaper, you said “no, I am my hearts keeper, made of Teflon.
Protected from any hurt you bring on. So you could walk through those dark shadows alone”
And alone is where my heart will roam.
What Perfection Contains
I am not courageous, nor brave
I am merely a human forced into
the net of natural strength.
I am never perfect, or even close
My flaws carry burdens heavier
then what perfection can contain.
I am not joyful, not even happy
My sorrows can be the ambassador
of the longest frown
I am the owner of the clearest vision
I see hearts when they are not freed
They pump through life colorless, like me
I hear those who remain silent
because I too understand the language
of those whom never heard a love song
Even when I am not understood, nor cherished
I skip through at a pace only realists grace
Proud of my ability to accept inability
-And live life as a human does.
Creating illusions of what the world should contain, dreams have become the driver to my live imagination.
Yearning for the moment when I can close my eyes, I know the sweet escape is beyond me.
I become the driver of an extraordinary vehicle, my mind is like the unexplored universe,
touched only by the hands of dreams, a picture perfect moment repeated behind the lids of my closed eyes.
Let me live in my abstract glory, and awake me only when the dream becomes real,
and I seek to again escape to a place never seen behind the lids of my closed eyes.
All Rights Reserved © by Kymmie and KymmiTheWriter. Tom Baker and his Morning Erection blog make no claims to any poetry featured here.