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Best Poems Written by Vienne Porter

Below are the all-time best Vienne Porter poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Vienne Porter Poem

It Reminds Me Somewhat of the Wailing French Woman Pz-

It’s a double-shot espresso at midnight
Where you filter my dreams into
Have-beens and maybe-nots
And I feel so alone

It makes me shiver upanddown my spine
The lone lines left in the vacant lies 
You abridged me with

It’s the smile of warmweather
Chalking up nuances of gators and florida
And orange – which I hate
(Just because it was your favorite color)

It’s a pastry in a darkartic bitterbrisk morning
When I numbed and bled my fingers raw
Typing – for you : of you

I want to paint the sky with all the colors
Of the life I’ve spent dying over you
It would be a palate of wonder
For any Picasso: who would dream of such a dementedmanic mona lisa

I fear even if I conquered all the known world
And brought it back in a handmaiden’s scarf
You would still throw me fast to the dogs: serfs to your trade
And let them muddle and scrounge on me for awhile

Until they grew restless wanting something younger and a bit more androgynous

I know I shouldn’t want to rip out my insides
When an old ford truck tinkers by
Or howl out into the night
Like a lone wolf whitewanting her mate

It’s a double-shot espresso at midnight
When all thoughts are scattered
And the whole world’s shattered
And I feel so alone

Details | Vienne Porter Poem

Holy Tithe

I saw a man today with zippers on his shoes
and platforms in the news
never stopped him from stepping in the street

I ask him why he looks at the sky
while bombs are blasting at his feet
and he turned to me and softspoke lyricly

of rainbows and starshine, moonshine
and castles in the sky
flying carpets and aladdin’s – mysterious like gempurple – lamp

I saw a boy today with gold flecks in his eyes
and in tremblehands he held a prize,
the world. at his feet; he prayed.

why god are we made this way?
and why does this pain in my chest (such heavy feeling)
set like a stone. in hurting others we hurt ourselves.

why are so many blind to this paradox?
and lock their rationaltics away for ideals and
speals surreal. like a drug is the passion worth all the pain?

I saw a mother daypregnant with worry
for her daughters and sons and in such a hurry
to love with all her heart because that was all she could give.

I told her why don’t you leave this place. this
wreaking ball place. but she smiled with a
twinkle in her eye and told me such tales of scheherazade and her arabian k(nights

and me nightpregnant with fear flee dustfloating notions
that are my present circumstances and
like shahryar immediatly suspicious

the wheel turns and burns halfmooncircles
into the skin and banishes all the compassion of the heart.

Details | Vienne Porter Poem

Between Two Suns

solarwinds a linear virginity

i see the empiraen lights
from here
here beside your slipsleepingform
form the thoughts that
reach the end of the universe
and the restaurant there in
record time
time where my heart flutters
because you’re so close
close enough to engulf
my soul

soulshinning

beneath our rembrantstars
and vangoghscars
that fade in the mornlight
our semisoulsearching
leads to brokenmirrorshards
and that lonely houseofcards:
ruins the tastebuds dry
a queenofhearts and all
her lonely counterparts
seize the day but nothinglike a
carpe diem
daylimbs crowd nightfancies
too close for comfort
too dark for ease
and we’re falling too fast
full of knowledge
for any reminiscent innocence to break
the fall