I'd Like a Little Flashlight

Friday, September 16, 2011

I'd Like a Little Flashlight

and I'd like to get naked and into bed and be hot radiating heat from the inside these sweaters and fleeceys do nothing to keep out the out or keep my vitals in—some drafty body I've got leaking in and out in all directions I'd like to get naked into bed but hot on this early winter afternoon already dusky grim and not think of all the ways I've gone about the world and shown myself a fool, shame poking holes in my thinned carapace practically lacy and woefully feminine I'd like to get naked into bed and feel if not hot then weightless as I once was in the sensory deprivation tank in Madison, Wisconsin circa 1992 I paid money for that perfectly body-temperatured silent pitch dark tank to do what? play dead and not die? that was before email before children before I knew anything more than the deaths of a few loved ones which were poisoned nuts of swallowed grief but nothing of life of life giving which cuts open the self bursting busted unsolvable I'd like to get naked! into the bed of my life but hot hot my little flicker-self trumped up somehow blind and deaf to all the dampening misery of my friends' woe-oh-ohs and I'd like a little flashlight to write poems with this lousy day not this poem I'm writing under the mostly flat blaze of bulb but a poem written with the light itself a tiny fleeting love poem to life hot hot hot a poem that would say "oh look here a bright spot of life, oh look another!"


Rachel Zucker

Madness By Chance

 Madness By Chance

It was not by chance 

you walked into my life

Took my heart 

and changed my life

Such sweet tingling 

the brushing of lips

a soft 

yet desperate 

stolen kiss

One that rocks your body

to the core

melting you 
into one 

leaving you 

wanting more

Frantic texting

begins 

back and forth

Revealing secrets 

gaining trust 

Oh how my heart

leaps

when you tell me that it's 

love

When really I know  

.....its just lust

Never underestimate 

the hypnotic power of

a passionate embrace

Supreme energy 

A smile that lights 

from the inside out

This if becoming 

increasingly 

difficult to hide

Feelings so strong 

surely this cannot be so 

wrong ...

Conveniently 

forgetting that you 

have a wife

Flames this strong 

burn too fast

all too soon our time

has past

Cant sleep

wont eat

You hide from me

My hurt has become

inevitable

I know that you’re lying 

yet convince myself

.. you’re not

 It’s an all consuming

madness 

Can't believe who I have become

Obsession

Watching

for you

Listening 

for your car

Waiting 

for your light

Seeing 

that your home

Stalking

your wall 

your pictures

Looking 

for signs

that all is not lost

That we’ll be together

no matter

the cost

Inner self knows

Its time 

to break free

to let go

Time to forget 

that something

which now 

I'm not sure

that we did 

or did not share

Time 

to rejoin my life

to take back control

to stop stalking your wife

Time 

to say goodbye

to press delete

This I know but I need
..... just one last peep


Take a look please @Wildernesschic poetry.

I Am

I AM

I am a fat worm plucked from the front lawn by a robin,
then fed to its chirping chicks.
I am the whiskers of the cat
who sits grooming himself on the fence post,
patiently waiting for a fledging
to fall out of its nest.

I am the fine mist of dew
that drapes the earth at dusk
I am the loon's cry rippling across the lake,
and a cricket, readying myself to perform
the night's symphony.

I am the rustle of veils pushed aside,
the uncertainties that crumble in the dark,
and all the inhibitions tossed at the foot of a bed.
I am the perspiration beneath a pendulous breast,
the softness of human touch,
and the moan that gets caught in your throat.

I am the flight of the 10 o'clock plane
that flies over my house every night,
always en route to a different destination.

I am the feeling that lingers
when you wake from a dream,
the uncertainty that tugs at your brain.
I am the coffee cup held tight in the morning,
the cream that swirls its way
to the bottom when stirred,


I am the aftertaste in your mouth.
I mmm...I am

This is  a poem by a woman from Quebec Canada.

Mademoiselle Azphodel.

Exclusion

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Exclusion

Deviant behavior starts at a young age

when bullies begin reacting with rage.

A minuscule flea sets despots off

so trivial and trite the peers scoff.

It grows and it festers this irritation they get

taking out on others without regret.

If not nipped in the bud truants they'll be

or grown-ups excluding people like me.

 @laurie kolp

in an imperfect world..one can only hope to hingle imperfectly together

By way of a link from a picture, I found on Google an interesting poetry site.

Erospainter erotic theme park.

There is an interesting amount of poetry here, so don't delay.

Content may be explicit..

Prudes don't click link...

'Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night'

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dylan_Thomas





 I loved this poem. A truly great creative writer.

Dylan. You da man...

http://youtu.be/g2cgcx-GJTQ

ME

                                          ME

IF THE JOURNEY IS ABOUT DISCOVERNG ME then the path is sometimes too difficult to trail…..

If I see the complete design of the universe,my existence becomes so small,my ego just so ignorable.

   

Have I been defeated already, or still there are chances of win…….

Everyday seems a mistake all so many times I have been rubbished 'n' mocked

My definitions in life are oh yes quite quirky but…

After with all dats gone by, who sees any silver lining in the clouds still.

If the journey is about me discovering myself,the path becomes so difficult to trail sometimes…

They say I have been my own enemy, yes I'm my best critic I believe

My deficiencies make me so much of myself, how can I part from all that and be

If I make the criterion and  if  I'm the judge ….

Then with the endurance earned and a graceful smile I give myself accolades still.

And then if the journey is all about me…….the path will remain as much difficult to trail..

The design is right and our existences just spread in a small time, I will let myself be…the best I can be…..

                                                                                              

                                                                            -shabda


A lovely poem by Shabda, a young woman from Delhi India.
See her BLOG.