Tag Archives: Poetry

When the world is first frostbitten

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When the world is first frostbitten

tender trees touched in thin ice

When summer shows its back

abandoning you for a faraway land

When winter’s wan face smirks at your peephole

hard fingernails tapping your door

knowing it will soon be strong

enough to crack your lock and let itself in

When everything disintegrates into blue and white and crispy brown

and the wind, mad surgeon, lacerates your summer softened skin

 

then the clouds part

affording you

one

glimpse

of heavenly light

a welcoming patch in which to stand

 

When you know you are about to lose it for good

that is when the warmest sun shines

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Writer

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Touch my hand

I will transport you

No more real world

No more problems

Be someone else now

Feel what they feel

Wear

Their

Skin

Isn’t it comfortable

Living vicariously

Isn’t it soothing

To watch someone else suffer

Guilt free

To spy on them in bed

To leer at their relationships

To know all their private jokes

To feel them holding hands

To watch them hurt each other

To watch them hurt themselves

Doesn’t it feel good

To be helpless

To be God

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lump Bump

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I didn’t finish my comic page today either! But I got some work done on it so I’m happy.

Here’s another old poem, recovered from the journals.

 

 

Is this what seduction is?

Lump lump bump bump

All I can do is stare

And wonder at the reaction

Of a Vulcan mind meld

With the office chair

Which sits blankly

Watching us

As its stuffing detaches

And dust gathers

In its joints

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My neighbors

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My neighbors

raise their voices to each other

at their front door

on a Saturday morning.

She shuts him out.

Let me in, he says.

Lana. Lana. Lana.

He calls her name

gently, patiently

with a trace of humor

and a deep seated

carefully masked

trace of Fear.

It isn’t long

before she opens the door.

He goes inside

acting

very

calm.

As if the most precious thing he had was

not

hinged upon his graciously handling

the delicate situation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’re always so distant

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I didn’t do any inking or writing today! Instead I bought a lot of food and brought it to my sister for her birthday.

Here’s an old, old poem. Back when rhyming came more naturally to me.

 

You’re always so distant

You’ve left me behind

I perceive I’m still there

In the back of your mind

I’ll be patiently latently waiting for you

To see how you’ve gone down now — just one where were two.

When you start to look back

Will you start when you see

Right behind, looking back at you, silently — me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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