Rhonda L. Brockmeyer
Of Regret, Love & ForgivenessI forgot
to be soft on the edges of my gravel-run heart & the roads ran silent & the stream of love dried murking & slow swallowed by the hollow ground how can you love me if I am harsh if I am silent if all this love has become a dried bone wasteland... does love have a resurgence? does it taste like the moon wrapped in the crimson light of kisses as it once did? does it bubble hot & warm as scarlet rivers feeding your heart though it had withered & parched for so long you were but a skeleton of a man? Push my Love! Push from the arid ground & find my heart again! for I too, have laid dead in sorrow... find my heart again! feel its love pounding, banging hard at the door, swirling, screaming from beyond, for your hold! in the darkness of the midnight air I feel breathless & dying nothing more than particles, particles of pain & decay will you still hold me if I am particles of this death a dust of decay? can you feed me your love into my parched and constricting throat? will you break open the esophageal lines brittle & rigid? I will scream in pain! I will cry dry tears that will only haunt your mind! I will Gasp! bleed invisibly & die! I will rest weary in a tomb of listless indifference I will... need to be mourned. & then, in the moment of tired agony, in a moment of utter despair finally, I will take a breath, heave a mountain of air into my lungs & back out again I will live, somehow... on this, the sweetness of your love that you lovingly forced down my lost cause throat I will breathe, & return you all the love my soul ever owned Spun
Spin my heart into velvet indigo threads
Embroider me into your soul Use a steampunk pattern That speaks of my love’s wynding gears The North
The North:
Winter needles our flesh with cold Summer stitches our eyes open with light Here, morning does not bring the light It is birthed in night Eyes seek delicate darkness Release from Harsh summer brightness You of Sky, And I of Sea
In case morning finds me too drowsy to kiss you properly:
feel the soft texture of my lips on yours; taste my heart; my love goes with you. I breathe feather-soft love across your eyelids, painting you with delicate finger-swirls; I etch you in invisible marks of my love. When night falls again, the rhythm of my breath, a hollow void, my legs not twined with yours, these words help you feel me in your heart. I will always be your Poetess, tho I know, you understand me little more than a falcon does an octopus… such is our journey. While you soar and squeee, soaring the blue skies, I will wander, quirky and peculiar, quiet in a submerged world. My eight legs shall never be enough, covered in odd suckers and hideous confusions; your two wings shall always be enough and so very graceful Fly where you must, as I shall always look up, wondering where you go, and what you see, you of sky, I of sea. |
Stranded
In every quiet moment
You are there, Twirled in my heart… A single thread of music Through all the chaos, All the noise and pounding A single strand of notes Barely audible Barely a breath… But there you are… Fingers of strength Holding me tight.. My serenity My sacred light Stranded within Wandering throughout all I am Every moment feels Like the tenderness of a kiss A brush of lips to skin Heart to soul Eyes–quieting to be held by yours Every moment Has a gentle reserve Washing through it Passion sitting on the edge Slowly eroded into us Twirled away quick as it fell Stranded within us Faint musical interludes Of love, of light High-Tide
morning washes in
high-tide of light licks my feet I let the night go Twisting Birth
I felt her wriggle,
Half in my body Half outside Soft hair~wet and black as molasses, brushed my thigh My small, young belly rippled as her hips Twisted out from between mine The final flip and slide A mother was born Haiku
thunder wild tumbles
cartwheeling the green from grey spitting and winded Slivers
Trying to find comfort from the slivers of light dancing on my skin…
But they’re just slivers Tiny and uncomfortable; The warmth feels to be, Not nearly enough Villanelle: Within These Hands ☊
Turquoise seas edged in driftwood sands
Cautious, we walked upon this place Faint beats this heart within these hands To touch foot upon sacred lands Was nothing short of seeing grace Turquoise seas edged in driftwood sands Blindly, we feel the flowered strands Tears, down their petals pure, did trace Faint beats this heart within these hands Blackness wrapped Life with deadly bands Nature’s breath, Death came to replace Turquoise seas edged in driftwood sands Life lost from shore to hinterlands Destruction reigned Life’s haunted space Faint beats this heart within these hands The poets sung out their demands! The web undid the interlace Turquoise seas edged in driftwood sands Screaming voices shout reprimands To speak, ruins what we can’t replace… Turquoise seas edged in driftwood sands Faint beats this heart within these hands. the wind blew
somehow
just as I thought I was ready to speak the wind came and blew away the breath that was forming the words I wanted to say: you write beautifully these days you are there, always on my mind but the wind it blew and I found my mouth empty and sharp objects sat (little projectile words) in my saliva glands ready to fire at the first taste of your sour-cherry eyes so I worried (quite a long time) not really wanting to draw blood or see pain caused by these inadvertent, spitfire thoughts and I let the wind blow and it huffed and it puffed and blew my poetic house of cards down |