Manifesto

And yet one more April PAD madness!

This came to me today



Manifesto





Almost 24 hours

and not one poem about you.



Not this poem;

this poem is about hunger and missing meals,

about poverty.



This poem is about eating air as the body cries for what it needs.

It is about shivering in the dark,

cold and alone as I pray for arms to enfold me;

about not approaching you for fear of rejection.

This poem is about feeling unworthy

of the smallest kindness

and building some noble romantic tale to tell myself

on some cold lonely night after you strode away -

perhaps true, perhaps not.



This poem is about a cry that has gone silent;

so desperate, without hope, it no longer seeks your charity.

In evening's concealing dark

it simply tucks itself into a closed doorway

curls tight into its vulnerable self

and awaits an unwelcoming dawn.



This poem isn't about you.;

it should be about falling into poverty,

about losing everything,

losing hope.



It shouldn't be about you.

Almost 24 hours.





Ariel

April 1, 2015

Vantage

April is National Poetry Month - and for poets there are Poem-A-Day challenges everywhere. A PAD today, this is based on the attached picture prompt (posted in Facebook's community "Poet", a space I started years & years ago and still co-moderate. It started with about 8 poets; it's now at 1,174 members, a global community!)

Photo provided by Rex Eisenbraun. Not sure who deserves the photo credit.



Vantage





Even from the distance of a black-and-white photo

I leaned out of frames to look for you.

Arm around steel girders, climbing grainy constructions,

I wonder if the wind will carry you -

like a WW2 postcard lost in the mail

and I capture you in my skirt ...

or perhaps like a tardy cargo ship tugging up a canal

I view you from my spyglass -

you will appear ... faded, monotone

but you with your scent

and that finger laid against your Cupid's bow.



For you, I risk that fall

and bring tucked inside that photo box.

For you, I would willingly gather dust and fade;

a memory that turns vintage warm when you will

chance upon it with shaking unsteady hands.

Perhaps then, with my leaning out of frames

and you peering through frames-

perhaps then we will find each other.





Ariel

April 1, 2015

I Remember

I remember the first time I saw your tiger eyes,

it was a December night with light snow.

There was chamomile tea;

instrumental music on the sound system.

Books all around. Such a homey picture.

And then I saw you, your eyes took me

to nebulai expanding, new planets coalescing

being terra-formed, amoebas sparking

and dividing somewhere. In my heart

unexpectedly there was dimensional portal that took us to quarks

building new solar systems; a new universe, a new reality

that I have never slipped from; my discorporate soul

orbiting around you. I remember your arms,

that first touch set a nebulae in my loins,

one that keeps reaching out to you

to merge; my hands through the years

keep reaching out to your hands,

even when the distance is now too great. Your touch

sets exploding super novas behind my eyes; a well

of stabilizing gravity within my heart, and in your presence

I coalesce from dark matter to solid. You

are my Higg's Boson and I keep searching for you

since then. Will keep searching for you. My heart

stays optimistic; you see



it never slipped.





Ariel

Nov 2, 2013

Waiting to Be Picked Up

I am the wrong vessel

for your hands;

I am too porous now,

fine line cracks have developed

from dropping too many times.



I carry the sweet wine you seek

but by the time you chose to drink

it has filtered out,

leaving only residue;

you waited too many times.



And like before, you blame the object;

this inanimate container that only wanted

your arms,your lips. I held

the sweet wine you wanted

that would have slacked your thirst



any time.





Ariel

Nov 14, 2013



This was a November Poem-A-Day prompt.

Eight Months Later

Eight Months Later



This would be easier if we were friends;

I wouldn't have to fight your absence,

only have to resist touching you -



I lay in my silent bed

curled up around a pillow -

a child missing some one -



I should get up start the day;

the room is silent too,

the world is silent and waiting -



Why can't we be friends?

I want to be friends

or at least appear to be.



Ariel

Nov 1 2013

Look At Me

Look At Me

I know you think of me as a snake waiting to strike
But I have no teeth
and am covered with fur.

I know you think of me as a book easily taken off a shelf
But I am a rare first edition
and very few can see my worth.

I know you think me colored as winter red
but I am purple, each shade
pouring toward you.

I know you think of me as risk
But I am a stable plateau,
offering shade in the desert.

All I am
is wanting you
to think of me.

Ariel
Oct 24, 2013

Borne Fruit

I can feel the muscles and tendon

peeling off my heart,

like an orange;

fingers digging in,

scrapping off the white of the rind.



The snapping off and losing

feels like there is blood oozing

from every raw abrasion.

Perhaps this is how skin is turned into leather;

the chemical burns,

the scraping,

the drying out,

chewing it again so it is pliable -

soft again as if not dead.



I don't want to say your name out loud anymore;

I'm struggling dealing with the damage that ensues.

Each time I think of you,

there is a dull plunk, as something pulls away;

my heart, this pulpy mess,

misses you.



Ariel

Nov 13, 2013