A Long Loud Sigh
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.
...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging gardens of babylon grew in sinc with the breath of the planet,
before the tower of pisa started to lean or mayan buildings were in ruin.
so you write words...any words...they might at least soothe your hurt
hold your heart in a protective shield.
you know how crippling unrequited love can be.
do you still dream of its hug...genius?
life and love share more than a first letter
(like the first letter you wrote under the veil of inspiration).
they also share good and evil...it's a flip of the coin.
either way is fine with you. you'd bathe in holy water or sell your soul.
life, love...passion...somewhere in there...it lives, genius.
all of nature a reflection through its transparent figure glows dark
like the shadows live in the radiant illumination of evening rays.
so let me speak of us!
recently when i tried to hold you...
you were like a ghost in the bright of day,
a phantom out of its element...
there was nothing of you...i could embrace.
when i tried to enter you a freezing cold ran through me like a winter brook.
you exhaled me
as if i were fog on a deserted country road invisible to absent eyes.
still you were my drug of choice.
addicted, i chased the dragon...you...genius.
memories fill me...
days when we would paint words,
stitch in a metaphor or two,
weave in music,
write instruments to fill in the spaces,
ordain a voice.
you wanted to taste me
i was overwhelmed
how you put your fingers on my lips
how you licked them...you...genius.
you were that giant pine i would climb in the dead of winter
(why do they say that "the dead of winter"? winter will die
when hell freezes over. winter isn't death it's purgatory.)
the one with the needles that punctures human skin.
come to me again and touch me...
like the butterfly does the wind...barely but thoroughly.
(is it true that just a tiny flutter of their wings could be
the start of a hurricane? are the icebergs melting?)
i didn't just write that out loud...did i...with you I'm shy...genius.
don't show yourself.
don't speak to me.
don't bother with rising the sun today.
forget those showers you create your magic arc with,
vacuum away all the plants.
lower your wall of blue.
i'm not interested anymore in those pillowy shapes i use to love so.
i've always known it is fire that cleanses, water that burns,
it is the moon that breaks the heart,
the stars that slaps the face...with...i don't know...reality.
i've always known by the time we see a star...
in real time...it's already extinguished...already dead.
it is our friends that will use us...our heroes that will lie to our face...
our blood will betray our trust...our teachers will fail us...
our leaders treat us like just another job...
the devout that will exhibit hatred.
still i believe. no matter what else...the rose will always survive.
the petals deceiving. they will repel all that is unholy.
grab it by the neck and squeeze out its black ooze,
leaving a gentle soul there to admire its adversary.
don't even get me started on the orchid
or even the flowers all...alphabetically.
i dare confront the beauty of nature's art unframed...
canvas loose to admire...genius!
i miss you but i am out of tears.
do drop in though.
i can offer you a cup of dry warmth...
soothing like burning logs that crackle with laughter.
take you to my secret place.
behind the camouflage of forests dense,
where vines grow through spiral staircases
made of turtle shells and dressed in discarded snake skins.
green is the theme there. it is everywhere,
unabridged, unabated, unaffected, undisturbed
with a fuming, burning, yearning to be touched.
so let's...let's grab...hold...squeeze..
feel free from the cheap paradigm offered.
i don't think you know, even while you sleep, i hold your hand, genius.
dream a full rainbow on a fingernail moon night,
feel february twenty ninth its absolute might,
taste fully the slight of a pheasant in flight,
yearn eternal life, wish a vampire's bite,
concoct rhymes nicely fluffed with built in sight.
on this sombre morning the sun is blinding.
damn my eyes.
there is a negative entity drapes our children's world.
shame on us...shame on you...i need you.
i am reduced to an objective observer.
life glides on the little wings of its carrier,
its final resting point in the hands of the wind.
another life carried away on a worker bee,
busy stealing nectar from a succulent bud.
a stowaway hangs on for dear life to the flyers leg.
gets off at the next flower.
meets up with a companion to create a new life.
everything changed when I met you.
was the sun rising or the mountain sinking.
was that an orange globe against a blue sky
or a lit round hole in a sad wisp of air.
i'll play a keyless piano if you'll paint me a horizon I can reach.
i'll sing you a ballad with a single note...
i walked into my life without consideration.
all the same...
when do I get a choice.
when will they stop holding death over my head.
if i could direct a few more plays with you as my guide...
my art, my life! genius i long for your influence...
even one last time to see your face,
unite and give you one last kiss...goodnight.
April 1 2015
Contest Name:A Million Dollar Poem
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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