jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Go ahead, despair in the tropics (for One Shot Wednesday)

Go ahead, pine away among the palms
throw up your sobs: the leaves will heave up
build you a dome to trap your regrets.

Turn away from the sun. Step on your shadow.
Summer has died on the sand at your feet.
Go ahead, let your humid sorrow seethe.

Thrash the frangipanis screaming red. Go ahead
smash the brashness: your heart will not stand
bleeding itself crimson it has you steeped.

Go ahead, gather the remnants of the soul you bared
the blossom you loved was a strange flower
the morning dew bred into a sleuth.

Let go the dreams stolen then tossed,
rivers will swell on banks spewing scraps.
Go ahead, rake in the shreds if you can.

Go ahead, scrape the hurt, wring it dry
no weeping lasts until noon. Tears cannot
stand the sun; it singes wet wounds.

The sun soon descends to a breeze waiting,
your shadow slips behind you when
you rise again. Look back then: the sun

you loved is only copper melting.

A song that plays on internal rhyme posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering of poets and artists who love their art and love sharing them, nurturing both theirs and of others. Check us out.

March 23, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

i dare you (for One Shoot Sunday)

1.
i ground my being
in search of truth
and found
a scoop of silt

superficialities
i basked in surfaces
the sun swarmed
beguiling

choked my truths
in flashes
glories in seconds
fallen as ash

my pretenses
morphing into
this mush slipping
between my lips

entrapped
in your weakness
i dare you
unclad who i am

2.
who am this
being a pallid skein
of desire tangled
in despair

words dangle
on tips of bones
their flesh i picked off
in my darkness

suns melt
on my breath
gods cower in fear
over my stink

stones corrode
from my tears falling
as flint on my trail
dead embers

rain pools
sizzle on my passing
burn secrets
my footprints bred

3.
taunt me
if you have grit
the songs i spew
rattle angels

wangle crests
of waves my stare
long petrified on seas
turned cesspools

dare to cleanse
the air i poison
my soul departed
litter ivy beds

comb my hair
your fingers hanker
for my silken scales
to root in spirit

grind your being
with mine scrape off
your bareness toss out
your soul i dare you

Photo prompt by Fee Easton

Posted for One Shoot Sunday from a photo prompt by Fee Easton at One Stop Poetry where poets and artists share their art and their passion for it, a nurturing gathering place. Check us out.

March 13, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments