Archive for March, 2012

Pure

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , on March 31, 2012 by dc

Keep the moment pure
A garden peaking in Spring
Wet with the dawn’s tears

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Fly

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2012 by dc

I sing off-kilter love songs
To a photo I now call your smile,

I fill the bin with lyrics
And fritter longing
Like spitting bacon
Under a grill,

Gently dramatic,

Feeling like the wars of the sinister
Have curdled the innocent,

But I’m just a fly,

A buzz in the corner of a room
Pretending to be part of a picture,

Looking down
At a past happy,

Waiting for windows
To open.

The Beanbag

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2012 by dc

You chose the beanbag,
The comforting sink
Of contentment
And hush,

Just the odd crunch
Of shifting beans,
And the sigh of your mind
As it wanders
And settles

On a memory,

The white wine
In his garden,
The warmth
Of his arms,
And the trip
Of his lips,

Drips of sweet honey.

Your brain plays tricks,

There’s a hunk of bread
In your hands,
A dullard by your side,
And the sweet British quiver
Of a hidden mistake,

Lost in the floorboards,

Whispering
As you shift,

Dreaming
Out of time.

The Jeans

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 23, 2012 by dc

That shade of denim,
Those belt loops,
That stitching,
That cut.

I watched him cry
As he stared at the jeans,

We are nothing
Till we’re worn.

Sour Words

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 18, 2012 by dc

As the pain
Dissipated in waves
All that could be heard
Was the nearby buzz
Of an extractor fan,

No beauty in that,
No calm in the whirring,
Just the worry of humming.

And then it dawned,

Everything comes in circles,
Especially mistakes,

They just taste different
Sometimes.

A Dusk Named Defeat

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 15, 2012 by dc

The gaseous pfft
Of a silenced groan closing
A dusk named defeat

To All The Writers

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 9, 2012 by dc

To all the writers
Tying things up,

Listen
To that
Internal
Monologue
Saying
‘Stop’,

Enough,

We’re looser
Than we’ve
Ever been

And the world
Is a mess;

Why even
Bother
To punctuate

Why not
Let
Things
Slide

And
Just