Sad Songs

sing me sad songs my love, let the fears drip away
dip your fingers and flick the droplets til I laugh
pretend everything is
us and we are all there is so what hearbreak can come?
I will write you poems dear and you will tear your hair
I know that you struggle and so I try
not to speak
but sometimes I am joyless and it hurts to stay
Sing me the sad songs that I used to sing to you
hands across your face, lids upon your eyes
I wish I could soothe the stones above your
falling chest and be your air
So hear me here as I sing all the happy songs
that could have been our life story

You Put the Music in Me

I want to take your words away and say they are mine.
How can you have felt what I would feel through the
weaving maze you speak my thoughts before their birth .
This connection we share clouds me as I try to break away.
Were you once maybe feeling what I feel now?
I'd like to think so, even if it isn't true.
If you made it up don't tell so I can still feel
a little less alone in this.
Always this.

Will they or won't they?

we live in a spray bottle

the treat is to dissipate

instead we get shaken

will we be scattered

or run together down

into one glob liquid

ever shifting around

around 

around

bound to each other 

their fighting scattershot

can fluid be broken if it

keeps moving to sound

sound 

sound

ground into bitter powders

The unblinking

Send out your vines to entwine me
I already have no air.
Sever the hands that bind me
darken the hearts that care.
For if any of this has meaning it must mean that you are there.
Summon the swirls depleating
a vortex of anything.
Does it not bear repeating
I am empty of everything.
Show off the face of glories that only you can bring.
Hold fast the flame enternal
but do not let it burn.
My mind paces the nocturnal
its ashes overflow the urn.
Release the energies within replace them with unconcern.

Branching

Your barren branches
fruit snapped off in the long gone winters
its always cold inside you
but still i watch for the returning refrain
'bare ruined choirs' faded words read
and now i see their meaning.

The Murder of Sonnet 61

Every night, your loveliness keeps my eyes from closing.
I am so tired, yet thoughts of you prevent my sleep.
Why do you do this? Stealing away the rest that is mine.
I sometimes see you. No, a shadow, taking your form.

But is it you, floating towards me across that great distance?
Searching me to see if I am faithful to you, aren't you?
Watching me silently, making sure I am not distracted.
So jealous are you, fearing I have some other diversion.

But no! You, in all your greatness, would never. 
It is mine one conscience that keeps me from sleeping.
My love for you keeps my eyes from closing against the dark.
Watching for you, waiting. Never losing hope that you will come.

For you I wait, but morning wakes you far away from me.
And being far, I despise those near to you.


This was my take on a more modern version of Shakespeare's Sonnet 61 even though I didn't use any rhymes. It was written, (like all great things are) to impress a girl. And it totally worked.
Here is a copy of the original for comparison.


~~~~~
Sonnet 61
Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?

Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?

O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:

For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.
~~~~~

Her Personal Ocean

At first she was chided
this tiny represention of a child
mouth wide as hot droplets spewed from
her scrunched up eyes
and her mother rocked her
comforting while scolding
commanding that there be the stillness
of sleep once more.

Then openly scorned after the fall
sun shining blinding off spokes still spinning
as the boys examine the shallow scrapes
that do not quite qualify as a respecable wound
and besides they taunt she is crying
a girlish thing that cannot be tolarated
so exclusion builds its walls around her.

She is too young to realize
that she now lives the cliche
Spending her every night waiting
weeping softly as she pretends to sleep
maybe it will ring tomorrow evening
at school she watches him who does not know
her number-name-need-nervousness.

Over drinks she tries to explain to
her friends what her new boyfriend is like
hoping they approve but knowing they will
see right through to the glaring faults
she excuses her self to slam a fist into the wall
a public refuge so others like her can pull together
stop that stupid crying she can hear
she knows they are trivial tears.

Isn't it what they always say
everyone cries at a wedding?
Does that include the bride?
Are her tears from happiness?
She lets everyone believe that with a nod
lets get this over with.

Nothing serious the doctor says
just need to watch him for a while
obsevation.
Her husband seems satisfied smiling
after all
nothing is wrong
yet she still wishes for an arm around her shoulders
so they can start shaking
so she talks lightly of fresh air and rushes out
nothing is wrong
sob for a while pretend it is hiccups
nothing.
is.
wrong.

Something is wrong.
But she can make it right
those people were mistaken that came
yesterday
No it must have been today
That young man with his nice family
clasping his arms around her speaking so loud
saying he was her son
but her son is barely ten
or is he still a baby
where is he
don't cry don't cry soothes the nurse
time for your medicine then time for bed
but when is it time to release the ocean sloshing in my head
washing away my memories she screams
and the nurse just turns out the light
 leaves and shuts the door
so no one can hear any crying anymore.