Staring into the eye of the storm
you're the tornado ripping apart my soul
I can't think straight
but one doesn't need to think
to know the path to follow
Destroyed in destruction that follows
you're whirlwind keeps me whole
any which way it's about to blow
and I adore the way you blow
the temperature rises
as I burn deeply in your glow
weather is nothing to take lightly
and I take it all
the good, the bad
even snow
I hate you
I love you
All that's gone and all that's left
in the candy inventory, of illusions
what still sublimates me...
The shadow of dreams, at parties
scenery of memories, seasons... !
that I lived...!
First, there's a tepid breeze;
the air loses its nip,
and the icicles drip.
Then, green leaves top the trees,
rivers and lakes unfreeze;
and Spring slips Winter's grip.
Daffodils start to sprout,
poking up through the snow.
Winter's about to go;
of that, there's little doubt.
Soon, tulips will pop out,
and butterflies will show.
I look forward to Spring,
and the warmth it will bring.
Dying plants in a malformed heart shape
A tepid symbol of love
Truth robbed by innocence
Show a dying man stretching his hand from deaths embrace
to rest upon hers
The tears of the strongest will unable to quell the torrents of their loss
The smile shared at bedtime before sleeps interruption
That tender kiss that promises a return
That sigh we exude when we think of her
That fury turned on god and nature when she leaves the earth
Her hug that halts your fears
That shine within her eyes that comforts the universe
Those words that as a child were never given or understood,
from her can stop all time and space
The touch of her hand that finally makes you one
Truth so true
And life finally lived
Who do you think you are?!?
You use your tears like money,
Each one paying for another excuse ...
Lies dripping with feigned empathy,
And staining honesty like blood.
Yet these briny drops fall to me,
Pressed between our empty pages ...
Like a dried rose once given in love, cherished,
Now, left to wither ... thorns and all.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Select C Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Who Do You Think You Are" Poetry Contest
Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.
Humid April night
Lover, first sight
Ideal woman shape
Sheet, coyly drape
Sheer, fancy gauze
Yours Truly, cause
Crazy angel lover
Shine under cover
Knows every trick
Night heat's thick
Skin's silky touch
Tempt lusts, dutch
Spicy candy mouth
Slide lower, south
Tepid torso treat
Savor syrup, sweet
Fiery urges, fresh
Love's lucid flesh
Feels beget sighs
Zeal's ardor flies
Even's wheel turns
Lust's flame burns
Wine's bloom, blush
Final ... fever ... crush.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Fem Bogstaver (Dutch)" Poetry Contest, Rhoda Tripp, Sponsor.
Endless is life's array of decadent sweets
Chosen only to partake a portion of treats
Ever aware of the fleeted glances my way
Ashamed by my ecstasy and willingness to fray
Storms within beg to jump into seas of calm
I dare just skin the surface with my palm
Cracks run down the length of my shield
As I feel myself finally begin to yield
My clothes stripped bare with open skin
I submerge myself and take it all in
Violent cold enters my every pore
My breathless gasps as I wish for everything and more
Tepid wind that neither cools nor warms,
blowing with no destination.
Similarities abound
to my scattered mind's state.
Thoughts run here and there
with no passion,
or purpose:
with no
love.
Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep
on this grass softer than hay;
all the aches make my brittle bones weak,
they need rest, not asking my body to wander away...
And if I fall asleep, I would like every star, spotting me.
to keep watch; and should the owls, hiding amid the shadows
of the hickories, emit very scary and strange sounds
and fix their vicious eyes on me, angels will guard me...
No harm will come to me from those treacherous evil spirits,
and by just invoking His Holy Name, it will prevent any attack on me;
and my light can be seen from far, this light which strengthens me:
and while praying alone, I will hear the fluttering of cherubs' wings...
Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep,
and without the lovebirds' song, something must
replace that harmony when a sudden rush of fear:
slowly and uninvitingly seeps into my throbbing chest...
And would I let any noise spoil this peace,
to allow distrust lessen my courage and let hope cease?
I am endowed with the faith of the martyrs that evil men are afraid of hearing;
come Satan, try to deceive me: the Holy Spirit will abide with me 'till my awakening...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
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