Hour 13: The Piper’s Lover
The piper stood upon the hill
and gave the pipes a blow,
while I was sat upon my knees
and played the pipe below.
Poem #13: Nocturna
The song of the burdened lover,
The brief appearance of Lazarus, resurrecting the screams from us,
The lungs that whisper nothings to the ear,
And deal in foolish love.
The skeletons of the six o’clock madness come raging out,
Still wondering what you are thinking now?
This shitty city’s roads do not tell your secrets,
And you sit back and sit on your phone,
Collect the souls of eager lovers to taint your soul,
We never are anything of the night,
Lazarus has brought you back to life,
And you stumble around, your colors are gone,
Drained of what you once knew and once loved.
The secrets to your bones, the rattling echo as you move,
I see the night, the evening is my mother,
And the stars all whine your name still.
I see your name all over, the road to my north stine home,
The road to your home, down into the end of this city,
The nice homes, the ones we hide our secrets in,
Behind bricks and gold,
I see the way you shine with her,
The pale man just like the moon,
The beautiful russian savior, here to spill the truth,
The evening is my mother,
The night is your wife,
Your lover, Nocturna,
The beautiful whisper of darkness,
Between your teeth is truth,
Between the kiss are lies.
another move
i’d love to stand still for awhile,
take a leave of absence from life
and not do a thing.
not even think, or wonder.
just be, a little while. a few years,
a couple of decades, the rest of my
life.
Moved
it pains me
to think
how you play games
to move me
that your words are meant hurt
you’re only twisting
your brain
and adding to your own pain
when you realize
the things you have done
it is a learned behavior
like words committed to paper;
something you do from time to time
I see you coming
silently watching
as all of this runs through my brain
I stand here
and I know
you will never move me again
By: KMH 2015
Under water: no thanks.
If you are interested in my poetry leave me a reply here, or wait for my chapbook that this amazing marathon opportunity has got me trying to achieve!
Thank you poetry marathon folks!,
Jenny
Cetacean (Hour Thirteen)
Surfacing briefly like a cetacean,
I breathe and go back under.
Sometimes I would breach for fun,
But not now.
No.
There are things in the deep dark
That I must find.
Things needed, for nourishment.
Half the brain sleeps,
And then the other half.
And always, stay swimming.
When we are fully awake,
Another time,
We will burst up joyfully,
Slap down with heavy grace.
But now, the deep is calling.
The deep, where sunlight fails to reach.
vegetable soup
That big pan sitting on the stove
means hugs and kisses and Grandma’s love.
It may only be filled with potatoes, carrots,
tomatoes, cabbage and other roots,
but it was planned days ahead and just started
because she was getting a visit from her Sweethearts!
POEM 13-Poisoned love
I would have liked you to feel my pain,
but I still loved you and I would have
preferred to have once more your love.
My sadness was overwhelming after separation
but I forced myself to forget and to
learn to smile again.
I replaced tears with the endeavour to smile
and finally succeeded in feeling well again.
Although I needed you, I deleted you.
Yes, I erased you as much as I could
and went on, less naive, but still
with hope that the best is yet to come.
I wondered from time to time how you were
and what you did, but then rays of optimism
invaded me and showed me the way.
I learnt that with or without you
I can be strong, I can be myself.
And that my smile is as charming as always!
Serenity?
Close my eyes and concentrate
Concentrate on nothing
But my breathing
Really focus on my breathing
Is it too fast, too slow?
Does it seem shallow?
It flows in an out, rhythmic
Focus on the movement
It’s too fast, I hyperventilate
Meditation, I find
Is doing absolutely nothing
For my anxiety
Turning points
i tried to look the other way, but I sat still, not in a good at peace way, but in pure disgust, for myself, because I was so tired of dealing with them, the bodies that wondered earth, big, small, every functioning thing that turned my point of view was so upsetting. I’m trying to turn up, not the volume, but the view, sky view, Gods view, anything to take my eyes off of these messy habits and thoughts, I turn to you, my inner self, the one that is supposed to guide without sight, please prove me wrong…