You were delicate hues
Of golds, scarlets, browns.
You fell through the air
Tracing the steps of winding stairs.
You danced through the
Streams of sunlight,
As I sat in the shapes
You cut out of darkness.
I breathed in, you breathed out
The trees laid bare
And below was covered
With the fallen signs of lovers.
Falling again, this time colder
All white, only white,
To settle over what was left,
And soon all was covered.
The harmonious sound of trees
Swaying gently in this
Sharp winter’s breeze.
Boughs shift and yield,
Fluid against
This vivid sky.
The streets painted white
By snow, and salt;
The two blend so well.
Sunlight falls in streams,
Not rays
These cold days.
Feet fall gently,
Through snow, over ice
Onto spring.
I don’t know why things happen
And the waiting list for heaven
Reads like a catalog of the mismatched lovers
We always shared with one another.
I don’t know what makes this sky gray
As these nights fade into days
As the irresistible sound of their passing
Rushes through the light they’re casting.
I don’t know what makes the earth turn
As there is so much I have yet to learn,
And this world is so very vast
And so little ever truly lasts.
I don’t know how stars ever came to be
And I don’t know why you came to me
But I do know that I love you
And while this world may be vast,
There are some things that do last.
the nights you are most tempted to be broken are the nights you are most capable of true love.
An acute appreciation for beauty. Romanticism. Finding something so evocative that I have no choice but to be moved. Knowing that this is the best thing I have ever known. Even if I’m not quite sure what it is. The feeling that seizes me when I look at the blackest face the night can muster and forget what it is to feel the sun on my face, but decide that that’s alright for now. When I feel so purely the desperately sad cry of a violin silhouetted by the hardest times in my life. When I look across the frozen landscape, chilled to the bone, and nevertheless linger for a few extra seconds to marvel at what the world can be.
rough few days recently.
but i take solace in the love i still hold, and the humanity i retain. i can find peace in knowing i still love today what i loved yesterday, and that i will love tomorrow what i loved today.
(i.e. nikki :])
I wake to the irresistible sound
Of days passing by
And melting into black, black nights.
And as I open my eyes
I can feel building within me
Feelings stronger than I
Have ever been.
And as I stir from stillness
To motion and silence to sound
I feel assured that this day,
If nothing else,
Is newer and more vivid
Than anything that has ever
Come before it.
So should I slip back into sleep,
I may do so knowing
This day was the best
That I have ever lived,
And that tomorrow
If nothing else,
Will be better.
poem for nikki sixx.
Closed within a wind-blasted shell,
My summer core beats still.
Weathered by the storms and gales,
My heart beats only as to fail.
The westerly winds come and shift
The sun so it drops to kiss
The horizon as it sets to rest a while,
And the rays curve upwards as a smile.
Golden-yellow street lamps sigh
Their smooth and mellow light
Over the streets and toward the sky
And I can feel this season slide.
Winds breathe air gentle as kindness,
Warmth meets earth in a tryst
And love has come to thaw the hardness
That has choked the land in its harness.
line two is a tribute to Alas, Kind Element! by leonie adams.
There’s such terrifying beauty in song. Terrifying, like when you make yourself completely vulnerable to a girl, when you allow her to level you with nothing more than a glance. It’s strange to think that these tiny waves of vibration in the air can become something so cataclysmic within me. That this sonic phenomenon can so beautifully capture what words have failed to. The people that created this music, did they feel as I feel? Did they hear what they were doing? Did they think of me, when they composed these pieces? Or is my reaction unique to me? Is it something only I can understand? Is that how these things are meant to be? It’s frightening to think how profoundly I am moved by something that is composed of little more than pitches bouncing about in the air. To think how those pitches can speak to me, how I can hear words that are never said. I hear songs that are winter to me, I hear songs that are my individual friends, I hear songs that are my loves. I hear the sun, I hear the sky, I hear the earth. I hear humanity in these sounds. I hear myself in songs so intimate, I cannot tell if the sounds come from within or outside.
I got out of bed today
Stared all around,
And it did seem in some way
Everything was upside down.
The day rolled along,
And the sun gave to light,
As voices gave to song,
And darkness gave to sight.
And I could see how
All words were broken
Into small bits and wound
Up in twine and spoken
By people who had forgotten
What they ever at all had meant.
But the earth turned so sincerely,
And I loved her sticks and her stones,
That seemed to me
To be one with my bones.
And I watched the trees
Become butterflies
And I waited anxiously
To see what would next fill the sky.
The moon, the clouds,
The winds, the sounds,
The stars, the sun,
The hopes of you, of me, of anyone.
And sure, it may be true
That my vision may be skewed,
But damned if I love it
And I’ll enjoy it just a bit.
revised version of previous poem.
Autumn flows into winter,
As the floes form on the sea,
And snow falls in small flurries,
And the sun sails along, unhurried.
The air here has grown so cold,
Each inhalation bites me,
As my breath leaves me as clouds
To hang in the sky, silent and proud.
The cold winds whip against us,
And the earth hardens and frosts,
The rose has left the soil,
But rises in our cheeks, not yet lost.
The sun meets the horizon
Almost tenderly, and sets.
So the day slips into night,
And this harsh world fades from weary sight.
And night finds us together,
Shielding from all this world’s harm,
The love once found in our hearts,
Now cradled in one another’s arms.
Autumn flows into winter,
As the floes form on the sea,
And the snow falls in flurries
And the sun moves along, unhurried.
The sky’s colors stay unmixed,
Like scenes we cannot depict
And the horizon is split,
A gray fault along the blue summit.
The earth hardens, nature sleeps,
Green life freezes as ice creeps,
But still I am not worried,
And still the sun moves on, unhurried.
Our breath leaves us in small clouds,
Eager to hang in the sky proud,
And is replaced with chill winds
That fill us but I feel no cold within.
The rose flees the earth swiftly,
As it does her cheeks and me.
And the warmth once in our hearts,
Is cradled in one another’s arms.
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| « Jan | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |
