A warm apple night,
moonlit tunes sprinkle around us
like snowflakes in July.
I collect them with open pulms:
silly dances, smiling eyes,
tightened arms when time felt too fast—
in the fabric of cider air.
The city wore coal dust, but
he smelt of cut grass and
noon lake so serene—
I dreamt of bluebirds from the west
eager for new water.
Green leaves as tonsils, for our
eternal midsummer.
You don’t owe me anything.
That’s the difference now.
You're not asking.
I'm not hinting for less.
No one is dressing it up
as metaphor.
But I did leave something
where you’d see it.
Not a trap—
more like a record that could be
interpreted as invitation.
Of what?
Of how long the echo held
after your part went missing.
That’s all.
I won’t chase it.
I won’t rephrase.
But if something in you
tightened—
if you paused longer
than the line deserved—
then you already know
it was yours.
And you already know
I knew you’d look.
Have to keep the door closed
(after that midnight treat)
The coyote or wolf far off
(too close)
Can’t remember the plot
(salsa has tightened its grip)
upon awakening
(not at all sure of that)
the widening of the dark
I open the door slowly
to the shadows
(a strange light and likeness)
The wild animal is scarier
enclosed, inhibited
(it tears at my throat, claws
my innards - from a distance)
The pillow next to me
has no face or hair
(hope he’s living
downstairs!)
I need his warmth, his touch
(I’m shivering cold)
ALL THE LIGHTS GO ON
the bathroom
the sink
the bedroom
the hallway
the living room
the stairs
He’s there, in his chair
I tell him I need him
He says he will be along
shortly, so
I remain, reading
in my recliner
shortly waiting
then the warming begins
side to side
his hand over mine
a warmer blanket
after midnight the wolf
will wait to attack
and with waiting
he satisfies his appetite
I’m still cold at midday
but my fears sleep
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
I grabbed hold of a star today
And held on with all my might
The brilliance was magnificent
So I closed my eyes
As I was determined to savor this light
I grabbed hold of a star today
And pulled it to my heart
The energy was amazing
So I tightened my grasp
As I would not be torn apart
I grabbed hold of a star today
And wrote its contents on my soul
Infused with great wonderment
So I bound myself
As I would not relinquish this road
I grabbed hold of a star today
And was lifted by a thought
The view was astounding
So I settled myself
As I embraced the lessons it taught
They came at dawn, no warning sound..
Just boots on concrete, bodies bound.
A flashing light, a tightened cuff..
No time to scream, no time enough.
They scanned my skin, a black ink mark..
A symbol small, but fate was stark.
No gang, no crime, no war I waged..
Yet still they locked me in this cage.
A land so far, no kin, no face..
Just iron bars and empty space.
The echoes hum, the cold walls stare..
A name reduced to numbers there.
The air is thick with cries and chains..
A past dissolved in acid rains.
I close my eyes, but home’s not near..
Just nights that whisper endless fear.
What crime is this? What lie was spun?
To steal a life before it’s run?
A mark, a stain, that’s all they see..
And now this hell is home to me.
the roses scream in silken wails
red-stained whispers, love impaled
thorns still buried in my spine
a gift from you, my valentine
your kisses bled, your touch was steel
soft as razors, sharp and real
your vow, a noose of silk and lace
tightened in a last embrace
petals wilt in crimson streams
love runs deeper than it seems
with every thorn, a sweet refrain—
i’d die to feel your touch again
My Bloody Valentine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Jama
Kindred
Hooks and loops
Laced the path
Burning minds
Torching trusts
Tightened lasso
Strangling hopes
Frail words
Breaking bonds
The scene of cliff, coast and a flock of sheep,
a view of the blue ocean, sky, and wild mossy cliff;
where sheep have strayed, too bewildered to leap,
they stand, sleep, or sit among wildflowers and sniff.
It was a case of follow the other perhaps in the rain,
the painting by the artist is so gorgeous and vivid;
now, for some sheep strength has begun to wane,
others bleep, bleep for help quite distressed and livid.
Though they create a lovely view they are defenceless,
they don't need a cliff but need a lush meadow green;
oh, why did they wander so far, it is senseless ?
Yes, true the artist captured a colourful, detailed scene.
As fear deepens in them the sheep groups are tightened;
for me the painting is layers of color and of sheep frightened.
His voice is sweet,
My heart skips beat
And then I leaned towards him
To kiss!
A soft-landing impact,
Hits my lips,
Like a butterfly setting wisp,
My stomach tightened in knots,
Which really hurt,
Then I pushed away,
As reality comes to takeaway.
I looked over my shoulder to look at him again
Though the sky was dark I could still see his brown eyes twinkle in amusement
Perfect pink lips ascend to reveal smiling teeth
He lifted my jaw and kissed me lightly
I settled back into his lap and nuzzled my head deeper into his sweatshirt
His grip on my waist tightened and relaxed
We were rooftop lovers
The passion came rough and fast
Bodies crashing and burning together
The stars our only audience
But after, there was always a certain stillness
A certain silence to our rendezvous
We almost held our breath
Did time exist?
Did anything?
But you & I
The stars and the sky
You smile hoping the tears at the corner of your eyes don't drop
Your eyes, oh your eyes, shine with a fierceness that belies the dark clouds behind them.
They gleam like an angel's, yet hide the stories that lie beneath.
Like they hold zero fears
The contradiction!!
You could tell a thousand tales
Of how you've suffered and hid the pain
How goosebumps rose on your arms when your fear comes to life
Your fear of giving your best
But getting way less
You cradle them like a mother bird does her eggs.
Yet you hold the same value as a rag to them.
A rag waiting for a day to finally be used.
People always take from you, they take but never give
You clench your jaw when you are shunned,
The veins on your neck wanting to pop.
Your tightened fist says alot
Your eyes turn red,
You know you've had enough
It's time your aching heart gets a little rest
Robert Lloyd Sherriff - Australian Poet, Author, Actor, and Model: American Historian.
Robert Sherriff - 'ME' 1961
In the shadows of a childhood lost,
Where crows cawed with voices crossed,
Robert Sheriff bore the weight of pain,
In a family's silence, cruelty reigned.
Father's fists, like a tempest wild,
Mother's eyes turned, averted, mild,
In the darkness, young Robert stood,
A soul consumed by violence's flood.
The crows outside, their watchful eyes,
Echoed the screams, the silent cries,
As society's grip tightened strongly,
Institutional abuse is a ghastly song.
But Robert stood against the tide,
His voice a beacon, no longer to hide,
Injustice rendered, cruelty slain,
His story is a testament, a survivor's gain.
The crows may caw, the shadows loom,
But Robert Sheriff, in his strength, consumes
The darkness, the violence, the unjust night,
With courage and resilience, he stands in the light.
My short story continues with this insightful excerpt:
The One Actor That I Did Not Know
Most of my guests are corporate leads,
and my first was none other than, The Jackson Five.
I was one week new on the job, then--still 18--handled a few guests, as I was learning the ropes of the hotel's various department functions and their contribution to the hotel. Tom Hanks, bellhoping at age 20. As I'm keeping my jaw tightened, a kid about my age with a nice afro that is in style. "I'm Michael Jackson." Pleasantries were exchanged as my assistant dropped the room key, and as I maintained eye contact, "My assistant is briefly detained (to sway his watch from behind my back making hand gestures to the clerk), our bellhop there will take you and your luggage to your suite.
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