Robin’s Egg Blue

“Robin’s Egg Blue”

–

echos of truth

louder, I swear it, than at origin:

cascading about your cold corners,

kicking up shit and snowballing

down that slippery idscape

– perimeter ablaze in Stephen Hawking’s wheelchair –

as ridiculous as the reality they will confront.

–

you will speak words that were never yours,

but hear them as your own.

you will fight the will of devils, honest,

made by smoke and mirrors to look like angels:

robin’s egg blue eyes,

deceptors in white robes –

Wise.

I Wanted To See Wild Flowers

Here is the aforementioned second part:

–

I wanted to see wild flowers,

Softly broken by the quiet steps of strangers.

Weeping, heads high somehow,

In a desperate exaltation of the pain

That bred their staggering-drunk-heroic growth.

–

The winter months are coming now,

So I will have them delivered;

And they will surround me like in a Japan Garden Dream

You had one morning black, before you knew me.

We, like love, may be born in the heart,

But we cannot stay there.

There Are No Wild Flowers

An older poem brought over from blogspot:

–

There are no wild flowers, just undiscovered –

Waiting to be tread around by the soft steps

Of adventurers:

Botanists with a lust for the lost ones

And hats to keep the sun from their eyes,

Still allow you to bathe in it.

These are I, your suitors.

And I, I would take you with me if you would not die.

–

Tonight I wrote one to follow this, the first time I’ve ever really written a ‘sequel’ (if that’s what you would call it…)

The Occasional Poet

writes the occasional poem:

–

–

the trapped blacked-out feeling

like a giant pit in a giant stomach

when I don’t know your thoughts,

your heart,

is enough to make a giant tree-

trunked legs, bear-faced, former lover

into a hospital [sicker than Africa] –

with grief

–