ONE HEART
By
Genevieve
Copyright 2013 Genevieve
This book is a work of poetic fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
POETIC WORDS
Poetic words may sometimes lack the key
That opens vaults to rich significance;
The nuances escape fine imagery,
Like raindrops drape a silk within a dance…
I never say precisely what I mean,
To dress in layers seems more intricate…
Why tread the sea when one may cross a stream?
Into the heart, one rhyme may penetrate…
I drank a toast to Shakespeare’s random thoughts,
And offered chocolate to Milton twice –
Once for the damned, another for the lost –
Referring naturally to Paradise…
Still, I will never polish the adverbs,
Or tame the key that shields poetic words.
SHE MERELY SMILED
He told her to behave - she merely smiled...
Refused to take the cat’s place on the floor.
Her words and actions never reconciled...
Infectious laughter always beckons more.
The knots kept coming loose, as if they lived.
The better wine was always nearly gone.
Not nearly enough sleep! He was revered,
And so the class du jour left him alone.
The sea began to flow a backward slant;
The clouds turned colors he had never seen;
The market offered turnips on a plant...
Even the ale began to come in green.
He did all that he could to get her riled,
She patted his caboose and merely smiled.
YOUR SIGH
Your sigh hisses like wind through trees in March,
Your laughter assaults the earth like thunder;
Can you keep a secret? I ask, in part
Because I doubt that your mind will plunder
Beyond scraps of reality offered.
Spring has sprung, and each new day that it brings
Will remind us what winter has coffered.
Into the night, some damned woodpecker sings.
The air is crisp, yet sunshine melts the nights.
I hate awakening at dawn’s first peal.
At last, the nuptials of fire and ice.
Something to obviate the high you feel…
Slithering like a snake through wheat and rye,
The hissing catches the wind in your sigh.
DUSTING THE EDGES
It’s late in the evening and
All my once upon a times come to call;
Uninvited memories
Struggle for supremacy…
Some find they don’t have to compete at all;
Wrap my heart in kevlar so
That it doesn’t respond to ennui;
Idle threats that I ignored,
Joy will never be restored…
Healing took some time to qualify;
Watching my specters parade,
Their images diminish over time;
Reject spirit protocol,
Occultists invoke it all…
Casting a circle, choice intensifies.
Just inside the circle, I will remain
Merely dusting the edges of insane.
READ ME
With your lips and hands,
read the story of my life,
written on my body,
housed in scars and lines of fatigue.
Follow the path of pain and joy;
mingled; erratic.
Fear consumes me slowly
and I want to replace the wall:
that invisible barrier to all that constitutes me.
Overanalyzing destroys my confidence.
I realize, of course, that the poise
has always been a fabrication -
something I willed to be –
encircling my penumbra.
The aura of calm sangfroid
is my armament, my knight
in shining armor.
The threads are woven
too tightly now
ever to ignore.
While your eyes smile,
read the story of my life-
before you must depart.
SCATTERED NOTIONS
The breeze carries my whispers quickly past
The one that I intended should receive
Those syllables that waffle under glass.
The moon, uniquely, no one will believe;
Fistfuls of danger caused my blood to heat.
My eyes grew wide to herald the demise
Of everything that made my life complete…
Now phantoms and penumbra fill my sighs;
While the sun is draped with winter quilling,
Crepuscular events practice their line;
Ephemeral elisions instilling
Contusions that evaporate in time;
A zephyr to become a hurricane
Will never simply settle for the rain.
HIM
I want him to want me so badly
that he barely makes it to the hallway
just outside my door
before he’s violently crippled
with the desire to have me one more time.
I want him to ache for me,
feel physical and emotional loss
when we are apart.
I want him to feel my gaze,
like the sun washing over his body.
I want him to hear my voice
soothe his psyche when we’re apart.
So that when the moon
shines exquisitely brightly
and the stars wink silver shards
into the night sky, he’ll think of these
days, last Christmas,
and me.
I LOVED HIM THEN
I loved him then, when I was young.
He wrote his sonnets in my blood
And wiped his hands on my heart.
I accepted his excuses, as he
Wore an artist’s temperament.
There was no need to say sorry,
No expectation of remorse,
He only blamed me for my existence.
I remember when my heart was pure
And I believed every lie he told me.
I fed him artichoke hearts and apricot nectar.
Dressed all in black and quoted Dylan.
Then, when anger ruled him again,
He struck out and gave me agony
For no reason, save fury.
I turned on him and kneed his groin.
He stood in shock; I broke his nose.
As he lay there in anguished pain,
I told him it was for his own good,
Just as he always said to me
When I lay in a heap of blood and hurt.
I never saw his face again…
Ah, but when I was young -
I loved him then.
GRAND DE