Hour 11
Midnight where I am. Some say the witching hour.
I’m still bewitched by my companion.
So here’s another quick and easy contribution so I can get back to him.
Silver tongued lover
Whispers love between my thighs
I respond in kind
Safe
I run from love.
Like a coward,
I run at even the mention of it.
Too much,
Pain
In love,
Has made life safer
When love is more,
Fantasy
Than Reality.
So, I create a new kind
Of love for me.
Through, correspondence
Which they call social,
But truly is
Lonely.
I hide from a life,
Outside my words.
They are safe,
You are not.
So, I run from you.
11 – i love you.
Dear Sandra,17,
I love you, I wish I could tell you to be different, to be braver, to believe in yourself, l don’t want us to live through the pain, but we must for that is how we learn, we grow, how we become me, and l promise in the end you where always exactly who you needed to be, to become the women I am today.
thank you xxxx
For You Aria
“Hush Hush, keep quiet you two, you will wake her up”
That should have been my line while you’re having a nap
Might scold your father and brother when making noise
For sure they’ll insist on bringing you toys
I could sip my coffee while you sleep and I’ll watch
I might be crocheting while you rest in my touch
That should have been what I’d do my child just for you
But you left us so soon and we’re longing it’s true
I could tell you stories from the books on the shelf
So that when you’re grown you’ll do it yourself
Papa and Kuya can watch alternately
You see they won’t stop until they see you cheerfully
You are our joy our cutie moonbeam
We have waited for you, you are our dream
But then now you’re gone what else can we do
But to weep and to mourn ’cause we’re longing for you
Aria, Aria dear, life is cold like the fog
Your absence in our lives is a real heavy log
Our dear child, dear Aria, our little girl so sweet
We will wait for the day when we’ll finally meet.
Dear Current Me (hour 11)
Dear me,
Once, you had cotton candy princess hair.
You had butterflies in your tummy and
noble intentions made your heart beat.
You had a soft voice, giggly laugh, and couldn’t
ever remember where you put your phone.
Music was your oxygen.
Poetry was the only language you understood.
You lived for books and learning and silence.
Now, you have a cotton candy heart.
You have moths in your stomach and
bitter outlooks block your aorta,
You have a hard voice, RBF, and can’t seem
to let your Iphone out of your hand long enough for it to cool.
Music brings the tears, so it’s better not to breathe.
Poetry is the only way to cover scars.
You live to sleep now and search for friendly faces and
you always look for the exit before you sit down.
Your soul was pretty, pink bubbles and glitter and hope.
Now, it’s hardened stone, just waiting to be rolled away.
I hope for our sake, you get better.
Breath some music and eat some words.
You can’t be this numb forever.
Love,
Me
2019 – Eleven – “Why I Write New Words for Ancient Heroes” A Sonnet
To sail the wine dark seas of Homer’s lads.
To face the test of Cyclops and the songs
of sirens in the misty morning’s light.
To chase bold Zeus from out fair Leda’s lap.
To tell the tale so dread Medusa’s sad,
dread head’s kept on her shoulders, Neptune’s wrongs
avenged. So Ephialtes lies with might.
Briseis, oh my love, escapes the trap.
The stories that I read when I was young
left me wanting more, and so I tell
new tales for heroes, tales of “Never Was”
to live the lays I’d live, as yet unsung.
Besides, I need my scraps, and someone swell
said that bards eat free on Mount Olympus.
(Inspired by, and used with the permission of, a message from a fellow marathoner. Thanks, Darla.)
What I Do
I practice calligraphy
on a Buddha board
the characters disappear
when the water dries
no grinding ink
no wasted paper
it’s a win/win situation
take my word for it
For your eyes only
We could be apart for the rest of existence and our brotherly bond
would never waver in the slightest. If I had built a best friend in a laboratory,
it would have been impossible for him to come out any better than you (also, i imagine ms. shelley would be beaming with pride from above). wherever your path takes you,
whatever may become of you,
i’ll always be right beside you if not in one way, shape or form, then certainly another.
at your nuptials, i’ll be front and center, at the delivery of your offspring, right there in the waiting room and, at your retirement party, all other congratulatory paroxysms will pale in comparison to mine.
i love you, man, and wish you the best. you deserve it.
You are my favorite flavor.
You taste of salt,
tea and hot chocolate
I breathe you in.
You smell of sawdust,
surf and sweat
You smell like mine
Written in Hour 5 – Breathe In, Breathe Out
Breathe in –
fresh air and new life
fill every fiber of my being.
My very existence
is tied to the rush of wind
within my lungs,
each and every cell
grateful for the gift
that continuosly renews itself
as long as my body still moves
and my heart still beats.
Breathe out –
the old stale past
flows away,
leaving behind
a clean and empty slate.
Already circulated particles
pick up the pieces
of dirt and doubt,
and they are pushed out,
making room
for the next breath
to start the cycle again.