Long My world Poems
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To sit confused
watching stars split the night
they pass no judgment or reason
The moon appears to cradle darkness
and moves across a sea of black
sharing my loneliness with nothing of purpose
A reflection of what is and what has been
a slow arc of brightness,
that becomes another light in the sky
that brought silence to my world
a pause with questions
opened by moonbeams of illusion
hoping to arrive at a destination of answers
before grief overwhelms my soul
Trying to wrap my mind around,
an empty bed, behind a closed door
that led to muddy footprints
trailing away into the night, leaving nothing,
Love caught in a wheel moving towards retreat
where I alone catch my tears, before dawn
and say goodbye to the last moon of our love
that greeted the evening of our desires
before stars split the night in confusion
4/7/17
Seasons have more reasons
to celebrate an innovative artist
who speaks in colorful dialects—
when abstract silence kicks in
and suffocates the petals dried
and left as bookmarks
within pages of the past.
I see the opalescent rays burst through
the ashen skies the day
the ink of your soul did flow
in fluorescent hues
across the faceless canvas of life.
You knew the synonymous metaphors
to calm rivers of raging riddles.
Your spirit is like
a supernova colliding in the night,
shining forth with lyrical light.
Words fail to glamorize how
you beautify my world.
You paint with brushstrokes of sincerity,
illuminating the void of vulnerability,
effortlessly curating compassion
with pristine pigments of empathy.
Today and always, I celebrate
the tulip stars that shimmer,
aligning constellations in favor,
to guide you to a poetic sphere
where thoughts splattered
in charcoal and gray
would flicker hope and peace
upon your aesthetic aura,
as time and space cannot steal
the lioness psyche which glows
like periwinkle confetti.
I thank the Universe for your
ethereal existence.
You turn the gloominess of midnights
into rainbow-rinsed radiance,
awakening the sleeping sun
to ascend and unravel
acrylic beams of blissfulness.
You are a flame in the dark, ugly and beautiful,
A labyrinth of contradictions, a dance in dissonance.
You are a rose with thorns, so beautiful yet painful,
A girl with angel eyes, innocent and yet perverse.
You are a mystery, an enigma shrouded in mist,
A puzzle with thousands of pieces, a challenge slipping from my lips.
You are a bittersweet temptation, a lure I cannot resist,
Like forbidden dessert, I crave you even when your presence insists.
You are a dream, a fantasy from which I cannot wake,
A nightmare full of fear, a maze I cannot escape.
You are heaven and hell, a world where I lose and find myself,
You are the sun and the moon, light and darkness, together yet apart.
You are a love, a passion consuming me like an unquenchable fire,
You are a hate, a fury driving me mad like an endless wind.
You are my life, the dawn that awakens me each day,
You are my death, the dusk that envelops me in night without remorse.
You are everything to me, you are the universe in a single being,
And yet you are nothing, the void swallowing me without hesitation.
You are all I've ever dreamed, you are all I've ever wanted to be,
And yet you are nothing, just an illusion spinning me in circles.
You are my ugly and beautiful thing, my beloved contradiction,
You are my world in black and white, you are my unwritten story.
I love you with all my being, I love you with every breath,
I love you for what you are, for what you are not, for all eternity.
[A true story]
Back in March this very year
A back that hurt right here and here
After many weeks of groans
Google told me, “Kidney stones.”
On the phone for half a day
Got a doctor’s date in May
“Hmmm,” she said, “go fill this pot,”
And soon said, “Kidney Stones it’s not.”
Felt fine except this back of mine
But then my world stepped out of line
Rubber gloves, and tests and scans
Prodded by so many hands
Ultrasound and MRI
A date with a biopsy guy
Not a sweet talking romancer
Said, “We must confirm your cancer.”
Scans had shown a likely sign
Needles where the sun don’t shine
Anaesthetic? Felt like none
Forty needles, felt each one
Three weeks on, one more consult
Re my biopsy result
Kinda knew the words I’d hear
Until he said, “Completely clear!”
That was this September past
And though I’m going nowhere fast
I still flinch when my love of loves
Washes up in rubber gloves
He was the only one to give me away
To the man of my dreams
I was filled with joy
Knowing I was still pure
And This was the day
To unveil my world
To My one
Man
My dad, a calm simple man
Full of love and life
worked in my dressing room
Asked everybody out
He wanted to bless me
I was eager
To receive each blessing
He cleared his throat
And told me
How much he loved me
How much I was beautiful
How much he was proud of me
And how much he wanted me
I was shocked
When my father said
I have waited for this day
To feel every inch of you
I screamed
He held me strong
Undressed me
And...
I was so appalled
As I fought so hard
He pushed hard
Blood splashed out
Into a great flow
My dad raped me
I couldn't breath well
I tried and relaxed
He was done
I was in deep tears
Full of hatred and agony
He said to me
I am sorry
Your my beloved daughter
I am sorry
I was so mad
And confused
Who to tell
Mom came in
And found me in tears
She whispered to me
Be strong
Be bold
You will make it
Dad added
Yes you will make it
Just keep our secret
Or you will die
Dad walked me to the church
I made my vows
And
Started all a flesh
Mom has never known
My husband too
I am pregnant
With
Dad's kid
Inspired by a true story from a friend
Form:
Many a day has passed
Since she entered my world
And since then my mind has been clouded
By the image of this girl
If my mind were a garden
She would be the perfect flower
At the peak of its bloom
In its most fertile hour
If my mind were a hot Summer day
She would be the cool breeze
As it glides through the shade
Of the tallest of oak trees
If my mind were the Winter
She would be the Christmas snow
Covering flowers, trees, cars and houses
So only white would show
If my mind were the ocean
She would be the sunset over the horizon
Possibly the greatest natural beauty
And finally, I’m realizing
That it takes neither money nor possessions
To reach the greatest happiness of the heart
Because a woman as beautiful as nature
Can touch a man and create such a spark
“Natural Beauty”
by: Eric L. Boddie
She moves through the world in watercolors; bright, translucent, and skipping across the surface of things.
People see the "whimsical" girl, the one who finds magic in the mundane and speaks in the language of curiosity.
They gravitate toward that light because it’s easy to bask in.
But she keeps the doors to her inner galleries locked, because she’s convinced that if they saw the oil paintings beneath… the ones rendered in thick, heavy strokes of midnight blue and leaden grey: the one’s that showcase the darkness she’s still fighting to overcome- they would realize they’ve walked into a museum they aren't really interested in.
She tells herself she is better off in her own company, a solitary curator of her own complexity.
She… I fear that a witness would only want the spark and not the furnace.
My experiences convinced me long ago that my depth is a burden… My heaviness- a truth that eventually would extinguish the very light people claim to love.
But now, I am learning to accept that I am not two separate, warring versions of myself, but a single, very real and vivid landscape.
The whimsy isn't a mask, and the heaviness isn't a secret; they are the poles that keep my world spinning. And in that spinning there is whimsy, longing, waiting.
She… I. I have been waiting for those who don’t just tolerate the contrast, but understand that you cannot have the moon without the vast, dark sky that holds it.
And the brighter the technicolor projection, the deeper the darkness must be to hold the image.
My feelings are so pure and intense—they travel through time. They can be easily dispersed and dismissed as nothing by my schizophrenia, my illness.
Can there be light? Yes, perhaps. These thoughts keep bothering me. After exercising, my head feels fuzzy. My throat is dry, craving a taste of sugar due to my Type II diabetes. I struggle to breathe when I sleep because of sleep apnea.
My world is overwhelming! My feelings are so pure and intense—they travel through time. They can be easily dispersed and dismissed as nothing by my schizophrenia, my illness.
Can there be light? Yes, perhaps.
As from my ivory place, in a while I descend
Carrying a piece of magic and a trace of scent
Quite a time of quietude there I spent
A delight, a light, I have to suspend.
The poet in me yields to live and bond
As I find in mere days a world to be fond
Out of sight I put my quill and wand
To humbly breathe and to life respond.
Along with my poetry, in wonder I wander
Unleash my words and on life I ponder
Bringing what is bright, and seal all that is somber
Allow beauty to rise after a long slumber.
I walk unseen, even as I get near
The brush of my words, its voice you would hear
The echoes of my soul, in hush so clear
That’s my bliss, a blessing from God so dear.
Wondering if I would have a choice
My ivory tower, a vision that has no voice
My world of a living pulse and many a voice
Or just wander in wonder and both rejoice.
Baffled, befuddled, bewildered and dazed,
My mind has gone for the day,
Changed to a colour that’s drained of a will,
Drained to a light shade of grey,
And I know what I want, I know what to do,
I know the small steps I must tread,
But these thousands of steps they tangle a mesh,
Confusing the things in my head,
So an hour goes by, then another catches up,
And a few more pass through my mind,
And my grey confused head sits on the couch,
Leaving me feeling resigned,
To renaming my world to an impervious shield,
Where ambition is held back with a glue,
Where the big things in life I thought I could do,
Are now grey, miserable, down and blue.