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Helda Marie Poem
This is what I remember
something sits on my brain
a heavy pile of memories maybe
(lingering still)
freshly brewed strong coffee
mingling with last night's bouillon
the clangs of covers permeating the stillness
wools of sleep tangle the brows in obscure shadows
nothing seems to belong to the past anymore
like the yellow grin of tobacco and warm old arms, reaching
could it be that the youth in you disappeared into me when we embraced?
you know what i mean; laughter flying from your neck
patting my head as I lay, a grown woman on your lap
telling you of things I'd love but cannot seem to bring myself to have
and you smiled, that funny smile, closing your eyes
how drunk I felt laughing with you!
condensing my uncertainties to some foreign 'be well' feeling
and this is what I remember...
dimming lights and pleading eyes
your fingers to my lips gripping into my chest
ah, how I felt deserted then and now,
drowning into losing you
and then you surrendered
just laid there and broke free
while it rained over my heart and all that was, sank
toppled over but never laid to rest
this is what I will not forget
as memories and loneliness swarm the nights of my days
and I yearn for the warmth of you
Copyright © Helda Marie | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Helda Marie Poem
She stares
open eyes, lost
white tombstone, motionless
she who loved to smile
inert she sits, sheathing her teeth
Feelings
match boxes
in a sea of sombre paper butterflies
on and under the bed
ironed, waiting
to leave again, some glorious day
She sits
a leg folded beneath her, haggard
his head on her lap
life trickling down a corner of his mouth
she rocks him
She sits and stares
blinded by loss
nothing will tear her from him
and nothing will move her anymore
Copyright © Helda Marie | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Helda Marie Poem
I was once yours
Take this photo for instance...a toothless girl on the back of two legs.
The folded side is you!
That day we shared an ice cake sitting on the bench.
Then I went running, shooing the birds feeding on rice grains in the swept yard.
On another day, we scoured the forest for dry cinnamon wood
and you reminded me of Christmas.
The casuarina branch we cut trailing behind me like a fat broom.
We sang our songs which echoed off the trees.
I kissed the coco plums before eating them.
Something in me grew silently then, but not around me.
Madness came with the absence of serenity which in you lurked.
Emptied my belly of all fire, feeding me with myself,
more than rage and spite.
Many kisses after that bore no sweetness.
I kept looking for sincerity in rivers where everything plummeted down,
where tenderness holds no hands and hearts are debris in crazed currents.
Then, I remembered, looking through the glass,
this is the day you scooped me up, the day you pushed flowers into my seams.
And we went trudging again, telling tales of dragonflies in the rain.
Copyright © Helda Marie | Year Posted 2013
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