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MAGNOLIA PETALS
I picked up magnolia tree petals after the rain after you'd called me. My face was blank except when someone mentioned your name and then it bloomed like a lily. The petals were on the sidewalk curving up, like lovers' mouths. Some were brown in places as though they had been touched by coffee. Some seemed to bruise under the touch of my fingers and the heel of my shoe. I tried to keep my mind as blank as my face but it never lied. I walked backwards over the waxy white petals to your voice, speaking of beauty and dream-splendour which I imagined I saw in you but didn't understand. You impressed me like a thumb on a magnolia petal. I bruised under your touch and turned brown when you let me fall from your hand. -Claire Bear |
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SO THAT I MAY
you know i haven't lived the life you've lived but i've lived and i see i see the deep sprawled open wide in front of me like a mouth ready to suck me in i've been swimming in the deep only to be spit out again stillborn and writhing i've drowned in rivers deeper than the hole you've fallen in i am the sand that slips through your fingers i would stay if you held me but i would be lost...too small for you to see and so i slip... and yet too big for me to forget 'cause i know the secrets of a million years i hold the ancient within me you can't break me because i've been broken broken and distorted by the waves that push their way through me pushing their way out of me out of me this non-verbal flow of energy pulls me under my body is numb my mind is restless let go of my string so that i may float so that i may fade so that i may... -JonAnne 1998 |
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY The symphony thrilled me, As the cold wind chilled me, The heat wrapped around, and we feel in love. You and I, an unknown species, to each other. The phantom no longer lingers in my sleep, I hold your memory close, to protect. The candles light soft and demure, I am your guide, as you brought me- myself, finally, no longer a lingering child. A woman belonging to a woman, Faint from the view, a pair of souls, joining into one. -Lyndsay (c) January, 1998 |
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ALL PATCHED UP
As I lie there with my hands smoothing it out. The silkiness touching my back. Its rough edges on my side, I turn around and see the glowing patches of its top. With warmth above my feet and over my head. I fall asleep. with happy dreams. -Anastasia |
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DREAM WORLD i am a woman of the dream world. i see, i hear, i feel things most people only dream of i am living in a world of fear. i love a party and the party loves me, i am sexy, beautiful, thin, powerful. people young and old are sucked into my world they do not know my tricks of manipulation. my power over them is like a disease. it infests quickly, rapidly with no knowledge, one of the worst diseases society has ever seen, and refuses to recognize, but i am a part of this world- this world of sex a world of drugs, my world of love. i am used and abused. i am a tease, a slut, a prude oh, what a horrible world i live in, my fake world. for when i try to break free, try to be live as myself, i can’t for i am nothing but an object, an object for men and women alike to look at and adore, adore not knowing, i am not normal, i am not a real person, but someone created by society to idolize. my world is fake, i am fake. no one really looks like me. the sex, the drugs, the love are all fake, they are nothing for i am nothing do not live in my dream world do not live like me -Holly |
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AN ANCIENT HISTORY The ancient cloth frames her waxen face, Brown hair piled high. Never before- never again. Transluscent lips, utter, transluscent words, never to be heard again. Tricked, tourtured, the normal reaction, to his action of pain. Down on her knees, bleeding face. Scrubbing or sobbing, contemplating. Swollen womb, swollen lip. Tender child, ripping skin. An oxymoron to begin sweet scented life. Her prize-fighter, a new beginning. But alas, a stick between her legs, Shan't be hers, molded into him, down on the floor again, not the kind tale, nor the kind word. Who is my man, who am I? Lost- not really wanting to be found. -Lyndsay (c) Jan 1998 |
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Your song slips through me As water melts the sky Temptation lures me With its winking eye I don’t want this These eyes, this heart, this mind I don’t want to see you But you’re here inside This is the end When I die, because of you Heaven is just sky Torn between the world I know The world that kisses and rips my soul And the world that holds the light What will I choose, beauty or sin? Kiss my soul This is the end -JonAnne 1998 |
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I know you have poetry for me somewhere in that mess of yours. Send it to poetryhive@evemag.com. |
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