Catch Some Wide Eye is officially a poetry graveyard and a monument to the folly of my twenties. My poetic prowess ranging from poor to average, I have finally admitted defeat and moved on to other writerly endeavors. Visit The Scribbler’s Workbook if you’d like to follow the next chapter of my writing career.
love is a river
coursing and still at once
always refreshing itself
both painfully dangerous
and soothingly life-giving
multiple currents, eddies
the length, depth, breadth inestimable
never leaving what it touches unchanged
from crystal clear trickles
that rise from the foundations of the earth
to stale, muddied swaths left alone, unstirred
always one and the same
many things to many people
love is a river
run your song right through my bones
whatever the meter the fever intones
ride it up and up now
bury the sound, button me down
click, click, click
leave a message after the
after the tone
pick up the phone, bringin’ me home
click, click, click
memory wheel, how does it feel?
leave a melody after the
after the tone, right through my bones
i’ll be your special origami piece
just fold along the dotted line
and tap me at the crease
worlds spinning
face collides into bone
hostile nations
that can never atone
the difference in scepters
is as wide as the sea
but your flags are the same
to me
finding my dead rhythm to set it in the grave
sometimes we awake to love, and sometimes we abstain
he took my heart out with him; i hope it will behave
sometimes we awake to love, and sometimes we refrain
in a field of withered roses, maybe we all look the same
slices of soul
dripping with succulent nectar
as the juices of my heart
dribble down your chin
defenses wrecked
from years of scraping
my soul through sieves
scoop it into your hands
and sift
the screaming from the laughter
The thing that sucks about being alone isn’t so much the solitude or the empty time or the yawning space or the fact that you’re more likely to uncover some personal blemish via reflection. It’s that once you finally do get around people, it fills you til you could burst.
Bursting hurts.
You end up having a million things to say so you either can’t decide what to say first and end up not saying anything at all, or you try saying everything all at once before you forget it all, words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get as far away from your lips as possible. Neither tactic wins you many friends, which would be why you’re alone in the first place.
an elder wand with a resin core
sprouting musical moments from tip to bore
the magic of stardust becomes still at a glance
then heightens the conquest, encores to advance
I am for an art that has the power to knock your socks off. I am for poetry that already has. Author, musician, educator, scatter brain. Proudly serving the global community since 1984.
Catch Some Wide Eye 