[x]

wordless birdthere was a boy

with bird bones

he never spoke

he stared at me until

i fell in love with him

woke

up with him

he listened to me until

i ran away from him

he was a little bird who

never said a word

woods and coffeelimb-like

your

hazel spine broken in bits

with the fern & the twigs

take two aspirins

six strings

synapses & wings

ease into summer, starling

raised up in the winter, darling

curled up on the couch

with the coffee making ripples

in your eyes & stealing

looks from a ghost in

the upstairs

murmurs from the ailurophile

laughing to the sound of you

waking to the full moon

plea to the skinny boy

in the southern room

the autumn left in the leaves

still tangled in his hair

i must have seen you there

still was the storm

in the black-haired girl's stomach

she rose up from the dark of his

arms & found herself sprinkled with

dan

perthcatch your breath

in the skeletons of leaves

it varies - this land

these trees - it carries

the wind of my afterthoughts on the

mountain tops

i stole it from the cedars

they came to me when i was young

when dreaming was too keen of believing,

& forgetting was too fond of feeling.

i sent it off, & found it reeling

itself back in

i stood in the lakes

you stared at my quak

ing heart; tore apart your

self-made prison.

undone & dealing a thousand

sentiments on the tip of your tongue

i spilled wisdom

but saw my reflection

in the vapor, & this was when

i became older - & later on

told myself how to look beyond an hour

i've bee

winter room
you set blazes to the mountains

they were not good enough for you

i cradled the summer moon in the

mason jars of my winter room

i love forever when i love

forever i love

on & on because if nothing is ever lasting i

will make the best of it

i leave droplets of dew on my shoulders

to see the reflections of you- i am

perfection, & the Earth is a desert

i stumble through the surface on

purpose- i'm trying to try.

steadfast & soft as moths wings

you sing to the sky

you can be as big as you want to be

you can stand tall, & i'll believe

we're not specks

willow-sighswhen i was little my hair was to my waist

i wore sun dresses with little buttons, & tiny printed flowers

i breathed everything in slowly, i moved like a doe

into the to & fro of

autumn, winter;

spring centered my

nymph-eyes & willow-sighs

i touched tiny pebbles & the bark on trees

played by lakes & grabbed at the sea

& they tell me it's all history, but i can't bear to

breathe that statement - i can't let them ensnare

who i am. i saw it all, & it's there - still restless

like the earth moving the sand

they tell me to get over it, but i can't

i'm in love with my childhood like a long-lost lover

one cries themselves to sleep over

astronomerswhen we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.

we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.

do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?

that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;

stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.

i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers – creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.

Muse:She corrodes star shapes into
the hearts of sleeping poets,
slowly, methodically.

NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterflies
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.

20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
is unrecognizable.

the man on the moon.he smiles at the moon like he knows her.
he's been smiling for a thousand years.
admiring her from afar.

so one day he flew to her.

but the man on the moon couldn't stay long.
and when he left she fell apart
and bled until she was
red.

she can't stop pretending that he didn't break her heart
because her gravity slowly pushes the ocean waves out to reach him.

but the moon is a stranger to him.

BloomIt's normal, you know.
Bruises flower under skin like lilies in a garden
Tears find their place just like water in the soil
They seep into the black
Nurture seedlings
And hurt grows so green and natural.
Pearl skin is supposed to go purple
It's as right as the rain.

So don't worry, don't fret
I'm art, you know, cross-stitching on the wall
An ivory piano key
Just as I should be
Because battered things are beautiful.
Feathers torn from silk pillows
And stick figures on balance beams

Aren't as loved, nor as adored,
Nor as beautiful as me.

Poetry,it’s like cultivating a greenhouse
with broken fingers.

NaPoWriMo: Day 3Today,
I wanted to pluck my ribs
from out my chest &
hang them about my house
like wind chimes-
dangled brutality;
a taunt for hungry wolves.

I didn’t grab for sharp objects,
I just wrote about it.

I never knew
I wanted to be a writer
until I lost something.
I still don’t know what that is-

(my mind, maybe.)

But words,
they fill gaps
that had no stories
to keep them
from hollowing out
in the first place.

i often hold my breath between newspaper headlinesfull title: i often hold my breath between newspaper headlines but not even obituaries are truthful

his head seeps into the floor,
and only when the whole mess of it begins to rot
does anyone remember that he was not the only one
that was meant to be looking for
himself. they supposed he never did
in the autopsy, although
a spoken-too-soon-
but-not-without-good-reason
eulogy
might've said otherwise.

he wore his father's dogtags around his neck
proudly, and when people asked
he made up the stories. he failed to mention
that he was not killed in battle,
but had murdered half his platoon
in cold blood
and was quietly discharged
to an asylu

for a boy with bird boneswoven fern around his wrists

he slept through the winter like a sparrow

woke up with the moon, & the sun

the same one

lying on his broken back

bitty arms, & eyes full of oak

i bit into you, & i choked

you were so sweet, you were so sweet

you were exactly like me

i opened your quiet mouth

left you in the dark

wished you luck

little one, you're still too close to call away

i can't have you tomorrow or today

the ashes on the porch grow, & the chill in the wind blows

my little darling, you're sane

you've always been.

you tried to carry me through fire to

save my pastel skin, but i

melted so easily; i blushed until i was

burnin

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 814 bytes more ▶

More from *hazeltown

jerichophosphorescence: that's a word i'd like to use more often because it rolls off the tongue and means beautiful things that i didn't believe in when i was eighteen

when i cradled you and catered to you and forgot about the light suspended through my fingers through you was a match lighting up fog and forgetfulness

and you always hope i will come back and brush my lips across the bruise you called reality

but reality is cheap and you can choose to believe if you close your eyes and feel like you're invisible that is a feeling

and to think is to be and to be is to live and i'd like to believe that's enough

the days when you called i dropped

bienville1.

this is for the mornings of green tea and rain water

the days with the no-name cat scratching at the glass door

and ships that set off to the gulf seem like paper in little ponds that wait at the shore

and no matter how rained in we were thunderstorms would never be hurricanes

2.

this is for being forgiven

or forgiving yourself for losing everything you've been given

and letting the light suspend in air just below your breast bone and kicking up the dust after being left alone you are one of us

the ones who have to collect themselves from the shallows after being given everything

he isn't coming back and to wait is to stop moving

i was once like youcome with me they'll call us revolutionaries and they'll crush their floor plans and keepsakes into the sand when the waves lick the niches of the shore land

when you lack the ambition to float on and your shoulders start to slump after too long at sea come find me

i have two arms to hold two eyes that see there is a bitterness cradled in my heart but i'm working on living

he was out of straws and sticks and he saw her as a needle looping in and out to assemble herself

to piece together a violet and blue bruise she kept plucking to remember the color and if she could remember maybe she could also feel it again

when this doesn't happen sh

mightyi started to acquire a taste for bitter coffee that month after the moths left the porch and i dumped the ash tray into the garbage

fronting the scars on my arms

not entirely

i never did it because it felt premature and i was out of answers and you sure as hell were and sometimes it's easier to grip yourself and try not to trip on what's behind you

that's easier said than done because how can you possibly explain the insomnia and the churn when you wake up manic and you can't remember why you want to tear everything off the walls at night

tear yourself a new piece of paper and write

it's all impossible to describe and none of it feels r

somethingsome of us are still dripping with sweat and sea nets before we can step into the sun
but i have not yet blossomed

pearl dropi was never one to like shiny things,
but i've come to prefer a string of pearls around my neck over
the blue & orange dawns - they've become wrecks
in the sky - sailing like ships
i've been rising to mornings moving on

i find that i'm in a drought lately
one i can't define
i used to encourage myself to drape change over my shoulders like a season,
but this time is different
i changed without preparing for it;
days growing older got me in the gut,
there was no real fight; it tore me up

the weight of
your mouth waits
against my shoulder blades,
kisses up the staircase of my arm, & down to
the piano-pleasing fingers you
let me touch you a

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

#writeaway
Find Your Inner Voice

#thefreewriteproject
Don't edit. Just write.

#poetry-book

#Unseen-Writers
For the writers and readers

#iWriteToInspire
We Write To Inspire.

#LooseLacesPoetry
Poetry Feeds Our Souls

#Writer-Promotion
For all fans of art and writing

#GlobalWRITERS

Show all (29)

Details

Submitted: December 11, 2012
File Size: 814 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 16
Favourites: 53 [who?]
Views: 590 (0 today)
Downloads: 4 (0 today)

[x]

star dweller

by *hazeltown, Dec 11, 2012, 10:43:32 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

how stained are my seasons with forgotten intentions, i must have loved you senseless now i'm guarding my heart. my ribs are a courtyard; you cannot be shy, darling you tell me, you're a star dweller you fall into yourself the space within you is beautiful & broken i see it fully because it's what made me feel help less the first time i saw you a word for your days growing old; don't try to take control, little darling i'm the youngest of souls

star dwellerby *hazeltown

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

*bloodawni Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Beautiful!

~Shetried Jan 20, 2013 Writer

often i find a poem that makes me soar, then fall disappointed because it's only one gem amongst the other works of an artist.

but your words... they are beautiful, but they are also - the flow of them is delicious, as if could almost taste each of them on my lips - i've been going through your poetry and it makes me hungry for more.