April 28, 2010
By allicat BRONZE, Queensbury, New York
allicat BRONZE, Queensbury, New York
4 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music". Soren Kierkegaard


that first breath of heavy disorientation
parts petaled lips,
downy sleepiness mingling
with cotton perfumes
as time bleeds together,
runoffs of watercolors dreamt
staining curled fingers,
cupped around fleeting whispered murmurs,
which taste like memories upon
waking tongues.
meet me in limbo,
flutter-kick within hazy recollections.
let's muffle the sunshine,
cover our ears to discourage the silence


we are all Dreamers-
we have scoured the world over
in pursuit of passion, of desire,
but we neglected to check under the pillow,
instead shattering the fragile truce
between consciousness and slumber
with mechanical wails
the caress of truth unburdened
by coherent thought.
Time beats many rhythms into her drum
yet we cannot hear the syncopation
for the ticking of the second hand
upon the wall


your physicists adorn life
with clanking numbers, figures, equations,
re-sketching that which incites wonder
with underlying currents of mathematical reason;
all is deductive
and yet no one can show me
the gravitational constant
acting upon a woman as she falls in love;
there is no voltmeter, no instrument of measurement
capable of picking up the transfer of energy in a gaze,
the electricity in lovers' touches;
no formula has been found
to capture the phenomenon
of a kiss
upon a sheet of paper
within a series of operations and functions,
parameters which function only to repress that which is impossible,


we are confined by the same skin which liberates us,
limited by the scope of our wanting.
the breadth of our visions supplement
the embodiment of life surrounding us
with small swallows of light,
so each being may radiate its innate divinity,
a halo
without heavenly obligations.
swan dives are the only way to enlightenment
yet complete immersion is often mistook for drowning;
mermaid tails bartered away in yard sales
have become the norm.
inhalations morph from the therapeutic to the joyous
as we puncture the crusts of conscious awareness,
cradled in the embrace of pure intoxicating
and every now and then I swell,
helium- filled,
yearning to leave fingerprints on the very air

I (breathe)

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!