“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label eye contact. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eye contact. Show all posts
Saturday, December 15, 2018
a disenchantment of nearsightedness
We searched
each other.
Diving in
with our whole soul,
unafraid of the brackish waters,
darkness, mirth or depth
of each other's eyes
Seeking what we had
lost, once had, where did
we put it, over there, outside,
ourselves, and with the things
that keep us
apart,
Spinning wheels in alternating
rotations, going nowhere fast,
or beating our chests like hearts
and pinching nerves to make a
sound come out...
Oh No.
There were so many ways to say,
I see where you are going,
you are getting smaller
as you travel
away.
Painting by Lionel Constable c. between 1849-55, Yale Center for British Art [Public domain].
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Homelessness
It is an ordinary thing:
a baby looking over the shoulder,
a child transfixed,
because they sense mother-ness or homeliness
I guess.
Then the cats,
the felines that follow
nearly silently,
like the prowling puma in the wilderness
they all watch back from the bush-
paw prints have proven this-
And then the ways skittish strays
locate
remembering how to purr...
Nary a soul sees the magic in these,
except
the extraordinary poet
who thinks one blink, and it could all
change.
Photo Credit © CEphoto, Uwe Aranas / ,via Wikimedia Commons at (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bangkok_Thailand_Stray-cat-in-Wat-Hua-Lamphong-01.jpg)
Sunday, August 16, 2015
i contact
i want to be alone with you,
she said
her lips were puckered
but she made no sound.
It has been
so long
since you're looked me in the eyes
and meant it.
You've changed
is it Time
What has come
between us,
she said touching the icy mirror.
Image of portrait (color plate) By George Eastman House from Rochester, NY, United States [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
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