Short Gry Poems

Sometimes
I long for 
that room
inside 
of me
that will 
pull me in
from the
threshold
of myself


© Gry W Christensen...

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There is a life
behind the mirror
beyond
my features
beyond
my skin
where
a soul
is sliding
along
a beating heart.

© Gry W Christensen...

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All these days
stretched out
like
a
c l o t h e s l i n e


The shirt
hanging
waving to the wind

over there


now


gone.



© Gry W. Christensen...

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Sometimes
I forget his name
there are cavities 
in love too

dark gaps 
in the cracking heart
where aching
doubt and memories 
pulsate.


© Gry W Christensen...

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again this silence
between 
me and myself
suffocating
in this room
everything
is 
and 
everything 
isn't
I hear
somewhere
a thought
breaking.

© Gry W Christensen...

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Just ignore this
nothing but
letters
on paper
taking
a stroll
across
the lines

Out in
the fresh air
with
eyes wide
open
newly
released
from
a pen.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Ignore
the words
the writer
poured all over
see the white sheet
underneath
wailing at you
tearing up
your interpretation
of something
so simple
as dried ink.

© Gry W Christensen...

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for all that I am
is in this mirror
shifty shades
and 
shadows
fogs of breath 
on the glossy surface
and my eyes; 
tired of seeing
the traces of me 
outside the frame.


© Gry W Christensen...

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My heart 
is my alphabet,
beating the letters out
through the pores of my skin.

I gather them
in my hands.

I mold the words.

And they pour down on the sheets,
like eager autumn rain.



© Gry W Christensen...

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There is beauty
to dirt and blood
to broken
fingernails
and loneliness
to a wheelbarrow in
rain
and ripe, purple
plums
to the hazy scent of
a life less lived
by a surrendered
book
and a left over
glove. 


© Gry W Christensen...

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some things
are too obvious
for
a
mirror
to bother with

eyelash
sliding
down my cheek
dusting
yesterday
on
withering
regret
stained
lips

here
at the
end
of
a dirt road
where
no
bell
will
chime
to
your exit.


© Gry W Christensen...

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And when I die
I say I will take my own path
I will not walk down

I will climb upwards
where the light words are
where unfinished sentences
are tied to ribbons
and I will stitch them together

To make a meaning of the life I lived.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Because I exist
in this raindrop, 
I am alone

Because I fall
in solitude
from a gloomy sky 

I reflect a whole world
inside myself
that
I am not part of

Because you 
shield yourself
from me
with an open umbrella.


© Gry W Christensen...

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So hard
to 
hold love
now
in the moment
between
a caress
and 
a look
too strong
too hesitant
too weak
too steady

To watch
it
glide down
and
away 
from my body,
it's sighs
gone quiet

To know it
didn't find
peace
with me.


© Gry W Christensen...

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So hard
to 
hold love
now
in the moment
between
a caress
and 
a look
too strong
too hesitant
too weak
too steady

To watch
it
glide down
and
away 
from my body,
it's sighs
gone quiet

To know it
didn't find
peace
with me.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Days spent
limping down
piano keys
and knocking 
on cellos

covering my body
with the sheet musics
he left

convinsing myself
a tune is ment
for me
somewhere

played lonely and soft
like Gymnopedie No 1
embracing 
a leftover summer night. 


© Gry W Christensen...

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The last
taste of summer
was
tucked
in
my pockets

empty
mason jars
with
the
scent
of butterflies

had
lids
with
lingering
raspberry

labels
spelling
will-not-go-down-sun

ran
with
sandals
and
band-aids
to
the
end
of
a childhood.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Sometimes when the night
crawls upon me
I go out
to look at the people
who's faces have
slipped out
of their contours
slid down
to rest
on collars
features
dripping down
on the
ash grey asphalt
and
under lonely lampposts
everything
fades
into puddles.


© Gry W Christensen...

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I once loved
an anchor
one of those
that sails
on skin
one of those
that has 
a rowing heart
and pelting blood
within


One of those
who blows
mussel covered
kisses
one of those
that tells
mermaids salty lies
one of those
who'll
go down with
rum and shackles
the day he finally
dies.


© Gry W Christensen...

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because so it is,
he says

ashtray's empty
and
Dolly Parton
cries
for
Jolene
spinning dizzy
in the
corner
 
in my mind
all words
leave the
paper
 
love laid to rest,
I can
recognize
the 
smell.


© Gry W Christensen


(My take on "Relationships". My entry in the "Relationships" contest, ending Aug.  25. )...

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that man 
that cried 
on the corner 

tears 
made him 
invisible 

I too 
let him 
wash away 
in front of us 

I saw 
him 
sail 
by 
in 
his 
own 
liquid form 

and we 
were 
a thousand 
pairs 
of shoes 
crossing 
the street 
so 
our 
feet 
wouldn't 
get wet. 


© Gry W Christensen...

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There are words that avoid the paper,
That hides from the pen,
That detest the ink,
That cannot be typed down,
That I cannot grasp

That is my heart,
That speaks without letters,
That still comes to life,
That articulates when let so,
With the language it invented,
With a vocabulary that is pumped through my blood.


© Gry W Christensen...

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nothing came to me today
not a word
not a scent
nothing new or exotic
nothing old or worn

no lonely lingering feeling
flooding over the paper
no sad tormented wave
washing up letters
nor the nervous restless tide
threatening to make my pen flow over
nor a hopeless floundering metaphor
for me to save.


© Gry W Christensen...

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That look
of yours
that wearily
slides down
from the corners 
of your eyes
that come to
rest on your collar bones
How I wish
I could
take the
sadness away
wipe out those years
smooth out the
hardship I see awake under it all
what lays
there
in your dark circles
I know
I have walked under life too
and it
keeps pouring
upon us
like tears.


© Gry W Christensen...

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And the sun rays
crack and break
over my arm
a Tuesday morning
drizzling something 
I think is love
over my memory
and the curtains
hang
full of our
hazy secrets; 
of her name, 
and his name,
leaving
no space
for us in between

And my day will begin
shedding hollow fingerprints, 
with the recollection
of the other
who held the window ajar
and
sprinkled sunflower seeds
so the blackbirds
wouldn't
fly in.


© Gry W Christensen...

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