When silent time stills
As fix as rend
Lilting embrace
In want
Havana's seventh sorrows
Shantee in brail
*My Lines Are Not Good Enough*
Rent free in my heart's deep core
The beautiful one that my heart beats for
She shares a glance but I always want more
Fluffy lips like whipped cream
Over me like a gentle stream
So much afforded me in a dream
She appeared like an holy grail
Will my ship ever set sail?
But shy, I'm a failing brail
In my stalking element again
Perchance luck finds me and my lips unlock
As her fragrance filled the grocery store
Come sweet scented
Slow down and let me talk to you
Won't you be my Juliet, I said
A hard look is all I got
My guts told me so
My lines are not good enough
Quote by M Rose: If love had a thousand faces they'd all look like yours
Your visage is what I'd seek first in my lost and found box.
I'd feel for the corners of my box with nimble fingers
eyes closed I'd brail the contours of your missing face
like a schoolchild pining for a spark of self esteem, I'd linger
on words last spoken, before you faded out of place
If love had a thousand faces I'd see only yours for all eternity
lost in a sea of despair, I'd search for you far and wide
like a mother craving for a child's return, I'd scour the city
rummaging the streets, looking in places you could never hide
If love had a thousand faces I would never look for anything new,
I'd take delight in the likes of you and only you.
You came on a winter's day
tried to take my pain away
your gift of love and desire
you tried to light my dead fire
I was cold to your embrace
my heart had turned a blank space
days are now a grayer veil
that hangs on my heart of brail
seen the sun, and watched it fall
heard the sound when hearts grew small
love is gone and left no trace
my yesterdays were misplaced
I crossed a bridge, left my pride
found someone for love to hide
you're a friend to share a need
my heartache you won't impede
Just below its surface
the body is furiously writing,
we would translate
but the language is obscure.
Upon a night
when clouds blanket eyes
the great works of the flesh
emerge.
Legend and myths appear
in plain text.
The body, as if dead
gives up its inner voice,
blind eyes read a tactile Brail
words imprinted
on the clay tablet of being.
When daylight peeps
we emerge from these myths
embodied
as the ghosts
of our self-authored
testaments.
A doctor saved his eye
then he took it away
by hiding it from the boy’s face.
His hands were puppy dog tails
wagging blindly.
He played a game of Scrabble
with a Brail alphabet
as his only guide
He would enter a schoolroom
through a hole in his mind,
peering curiously
into a strange fishbowl world.
He was a one-eyed peeper,
a tunnel stalker
walking through a tubular world.
When the patch came off
reality took on the shape
of a prison warden.
One eye had to work hard,
the other got a life-sentence
reduced to time already served
as the cell-mate of a cyclops.
There was a moment, it flashed over us
like lightning at midday.
We should have looked away
but then the living daylights
transformed us
into two undying prayers.
Black cats in lightless rooms
communicated in Brail.
Our hearts danced
among the scattered bones
of fallen angels.
Our friends understood, we were done
with just living,
we were heaven-deep in love,
heads above the stars.
-Nights wake-
The night is dead. Longs for absurdity, what’s left is a heart of fire.
The abomination of the fallen. Serotonin left astray. Beg for the long-lost magnum opus. Tear apart Librium. Sheer lust of the requisite. Where are we now?
Deprave the senses. Blind from touch, brail inherently deemed moot.
My eyes close and I see the void. I open them to see the lie.
Tears stream down my face like rivers surface in the Sahara.
Had Been Using Braille
had been using brail
when he did write much email
out window would sail
had been bold and brash
very vile was city of Nash
there his dough did stash
Jim Horn
There was a moment,
it flashed over us like lightning at midday.
We should have looked away
but then the living daylights transformed us
into undying lovers.
Black cats in lightless rooms
whispered to each other in Brail.
Our eyes turned blind as we dazzled, then glowed
among the scattered bones of fallen angels.
Our friends understood, we were done
with just living, we were a prayer
created in a firestorm,
and we would claw our way through
this death
into our own natural indecent state.
Nail on the wall
Picture to fall
Spider in crawl
Omen to stall
Side along side
Image in stride
Time not defied
Somebody lied
Web on the spin
Calling the sin
Sepia got thin
Unfolding din
Intricate weave
Dust balls to grieve
Do not deceive
Imminent leave
Photograph torn
Image forlorn
Passion outworn
Innocence shorn
Framed by betrayal
Lost in the grail
He cuts the brail
The tale of a nail
12th April 2020
Shoes
I can count to ten,
I can play Beethoven,
Bach and Seuss…
with equal flair.
One and two fish,
they, all-together swim…
the bright-green sea.
The colors of the rainbow,
I ponder in every shade.
I draw outside the lines,
but they are just…
(take a long breath)
boundaries to be broken.
Going to the moon,
the zoo, or grandma’s house?
It is all a trip to heaven.
I really want to go back
to the castle…
(soft crying)
Someday!
I think in pictures,
speak in unknown signs,
write symbols no one’s
ever seen.
I am a story that needs,
telling...
to be sung in words of brail,
to blind people that
learn the task, but still
can not read the truth.
Silently,
my mother
(sad sigh)
ties my shoes.
Like magic there are bows.
Bear’s chase rabbits,
and… I play the piano.
MISDEMEANOR
A soft lisp runs through blonde summer grasses,
shoving at kites or the hems of long skirts.
Umbrellas and hats stir as it passes,
jumbling at picnics, it teases and flirts.
It picks up speed while playing with Marty,
and takes his land legs as he tries to walk.
The unseen source can raid a yacht party,
by strewing boats that are moored to the dock.
Laughing in whispers or screaming in storms,
a mythical being, felt but not seen.
Its guests are blind to the brail it performs,
it can be gentle, or just as well, mean.
Wickedly hurling a house in the air,
or docile enough to tousle our hair.
-Edlynn Nau
© May 21, 2018
Apropos Genesis
(For The Apostolic Poets I Know)
Now I see
said the blind
brother
sister
as the brail
shed light
on the Word:
Truth—
I hear
said the deaf
brother
sister
hearing
the thundering
signed Word—
I feel you
said the paraplegic
brother
sister
who felt and feels
the written Word:
blinking
thinking
scratching
tearing
echoing
in every way—
What’s your problem…
brother!?!
sister!?!
Tell me!!!
Yo! I shall
see you!
Yo! I shall hear you!
Yo! I shall feel you!
Yo! I shall walk with you!
Yo! I shall fight with and for you!
Word!
Threaded history - boney fingered
Ancestries woven connections,
Stitched brail of wordless inscriptions
Meaningless decorative presence
Saturated with the timeless reverence of
Boney fingered storytellers.
6/4/2016
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