Caution
That's my heart
Words whispered in my ear
Not just words
Responsibilities
Fingers grip tight
Lips part
Breath taken in
A burning in my chest
Is that my heart
Memories return
Agape again
Yawning wide
A hole ripped
Ripped
No more torn
Stretched to filling
Unable to hold
What was never enough
Agape so empty
Agape so full
One can never be filled
Black
Endless
Sinking like quicksilver
Leeringly the other so full
Light
Expanding
Clinging onto the dream
I'm so full of secrets
I've tango'd and I'm sore
Caution that's my heart she said
But it was my lips that moved
Untitled
I wish I was an artist
With paint to capture you
Then I might possess
Mindeye's crystal view
It can't be done incamera
Sharp perfected defective image
No, requires vision
Deft touches, false angles, muted hues
I see you coying tempting
Upon a divan not of our rooms
Perchance for another
Only you can choose
Imagery drips in mixing colors
New colors burst forth failing quickly
I adumbrate my heaven
Inadequate fingers too stiff for my will
Fading never bright
Too pale when needing dark
Touchstone turns obscure
Chance is singular here
Enough perhaps
For talented brush
But me
I've spilled and smeared
Leaving shards of ruined plate glass
Hand dropped now
Impatience's signal
Tossing back your hair
I see it now
But clumsy fingers cannot hold
Brush, nor you
3 comments:
It's so much braver to publish poetry than stories - poems reveal so much about the writer.
Thank you for letting us see these, Jenny
Thanks you for sharing your poetry Jenny. Monica is right they do reveal so much...which surely is a good thing?
Jenny your talent never ceases to make me want to see more of it. so more please "per request".
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