Femme

Lips for licking words
sweet and sour said to taste, tongue
buds roses and thorns.




Image of painting by Władysław Czachórski [Public domain], First Roses (1891) via Wikimedia Commons.

Keeping it Inside Out (There)

Between you and I
secrets
Yes
You've seen parts
none cared
for, but me.

You see,
remember that time
you knew
I was lying
or the time
you knew truth
was hiding right there
and both times
you thought,
why not?

Or of a poet-
that needs words
that hold places for
secrets
that are not known
but shown
anyway...
In between
poetry shared
somewhere
someone
else may
someday
care
and keep
secrets 
with me.




Image by Julia Margaret Cameron [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Pro Crastinator

When it finally all came out
and was nowhere near right,
I tried again.

And it was worse.
So I started over
with countless scratches and
don't sniff around-
it stinks!

Well, all I could do
was begin anew
way of coming at it-

Quit is not a possibility,
cruelly
Failure is my reality
and I see,
this jutting angle
enmeshed in the rest
will work,
once I throw it out
the window.
There's always tomorrow.



Image of painting By Anton Laupheimer (1848–1927) (Auktionshaus Zeller) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Poet's Dream-by P.B. Shelley

The Poet's Dream 

by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

On a poet's lips I slept

Dreaming like a love adept

In the sound his breathing kept;

Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,

But feeds on the aerial kisses,

Of shapes that haunt thoughts wildernesses. 

He will watch from dawn to gloom

The lake reflected sun illume

The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom

Nor heed nor see, what things they be;

But from these create he can

Forms more real than living man,

Nurslings of immortality!

One of these awakened me,

And I sped to succour thee.

Image of painting by Jozef Israëls [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The missing lyrics

When I do not say
                           it is not that-
I made this mask
                          this way.
You can see its guts
                         through the eyes...
The cogs and fogs.

When I listen
                         I welcome news
from outside.
To share a smile
                         is a welcome view,
a radiant defiance of conservation.
When I hear
                         music in the mundane,
I take it out
                        of context
and am moved by its song.

When spoken
                        I regret empty words,
that fulfill
                        nothing perfectly.
All the non-existent ways-
                        I said nothing
In so many days-
                        it has all been said.
I am done telling
                         All,
when I do not say.



Image of painting by Vittorio Matteo Corcos (1892), [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.

Prescription: Just two a day

Ever since doctor
Williams stole a cold plum- (yum!)
I take more than one.













Image By Nishimura Goun (1877 - 1938) (Japanese) (Painter, Details of artist on Google Art Project) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

You again

Why would you be
looking here
when you should be
looking
somewhere else

There you go again
anywhere
but furthermore
and curiosity does not
have nine chances
to land on a point
where you find
yourself
here
again

Still
stop wasting another line
It will always be here
nevermore
than at its worst
a waste of-
a treasure of-
private epiphany
helium to some.

Anyway, today is the day
you stop.
And now
it is an insult
to see you watching these words
fly away-
don't check-
yet-
they lie
unrecognizable by eyes
other than yours

How you can see
not all the words are empty-
but half full-
of themselves,
it is beyond further explanation.
You know what I would say.




Image By Internet Archive Book Images, described as Life of James McNeill [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.