Showing posts with label "word play". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "word play". Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Gravity/Grab At Me

Beloved, you know I find
letting myself
be lov-ed difficult, in part or full

A disclaimer, then, I state:
If I should slip,
trip, I this claim:

I am yours for sunsets
For sunrises, until
after our suns set

When the moon rises
I will rise mooning,
howling love.

For every eclipse, I will
let you eke bliss
out of my heart

The gravity of this love is
for me weightless,
grab at me what it will

For I know I am beloved
sun or moon or none
and vow to be so loved.

~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~

Friday, 20 April 2007

Hebdomad

The entire world
wants me to think I'm insane
tries to tell me
today is Thursday

That can't be true, I know it
down in the slinky marrow
of my ancestor's bones
in the way the day hangs

loose-fitting like a cloak
like a Friday cape
across my shoulders
tickling my ankles

Also, I know that today
must be Friday, because I love you
and I only love you on Fridays
Thursdays I love music

or art, or sometimes food
Mondays that dog with the curly hair
or the memory of games
played with my sister at age seven

So you see, it can't be Thursday
for I love you, I am sure I do;
I know it in the marrow
coiled asp-like in my bones

Such a deviation would be
impossible and we all know
impossibilities -and dragons-
are reserved for Sundays

Anyway, days do not care a whit
about foolish probabilities
they know that they exist
sense that it is their turn to be today

Hard to slice, cleave, septisect
a circle equally, hard to
break the hebdomad, harder still
if you take more than your share

Leaving none for dance, for cats
cartoon shows and drawing
for zoos and museums
traveling and my black ruffled skirt

And I love you today.
Under a weakening sunset, with
the week-end moon up between clouds
hide-and-seeking its way

into freedom from the urban yoke
So take your one-seventh
and be glad of what you get
Keep Thursday for, to, yourself

...the newspapers too?
The six-o-clock news?
Your three-year-old cousin
Everyone we know?

...Oh dear, this is terrible
the days have switched themselves
And if I give you Thursday too
where will I put cold milk?

Or was it daydreaming or apples
or painting with ink
I've lost my love-schedule
but I love you, so it must

be today, or tomorrow
even yesterday will suffice if
it can be Friday in this bed
in this quiet kingdom of sleep

gently woken by Friday's sun
I have Friday feet on my legs
running to meet you at the door
wrap my Friday fingers in yours

you love me every day (you say)
I suppose I can manage two

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

There, I've written a non-explicit, non-bitter love poem. To...no one.

Tuesday, 6 December 2005

Alpha Zeta

A - Did Perseus rescue Andromeda, just to
spread her legs across the heavens,
sweat glistening as pinprick-lights on her thighs?

B - The original breast for a lullaby,
the smooth curves that come
with the onslaught of pregnancy.

C - So eager to please, if you please it,
yet giving while it takes, teasing caresses and
coaxing blushes from its prey.

D - An aging bachelor, just fed,
too sexless or proud
to hold his bulging stomach in.

E - My darling, amputated octopus,
a kiss waiting on each desperate arm.
Love will never touch its beak-flanked lips.

F - A falcon's frail-seeming claw
strikes both clouds and flesh
with the sharpest of blades.

G - The unforgiving hook dangling
from an angler-fish's forehead:
its camouflaged gullet swallows me hole.

H - Spider monkey skitters up
ready to set fire
burning his last bridge.

I - All sharp edges, this letter
will slice me, leaving me bereft,
my only friend a dull-blade infection.

J - Dragonfly in heat, fighting for purchase
on the slippery walls of this rocking canoe,
dipping its toes in the ripples.

K - Little girl lost drops her hairbow
left in the gutter because
it doesn't go with eyeshadow.

L - Rain over the waterfall
reborn in white foam, to the surface:
a daily death can't drown you.

M - Two children clasp hands, unwavering
even at first light, pillars stand
before the gate to the big, bad world.

N - There is a tunnel between you and God;
only if you kiss his feet
will it take you to him.

O - The moon when it inhales
breaks the perfection
of one immutable radius.

P - The veteran leans on his cane;
he still leaves a place
for his phantom leg to stand.

Q - Grandfather time has lost
his sharp hands to sleep
they prod his weary feet.

R - A pair of lovers dance the tango,
one stiletto-clad foot
drawing scars on the hardwood floor.

S - Come and go, hither and yon,
forge ahead and recoil sharp
dithering like a sidewinder's path.

T - Nature's most rigid tree,
manufactured by architects, eschewing circles
and roses for the comfort of spines.

U - Rib shapes flesh
skin caresses bone
the skeleton jitters home.

V - Aries lowered his horns only after
both sides of this bloody war
had died for such a peace.

W - Venomous, two-headed snake,
starving yourself for your pride,
both mouths refusing to become a tail.

X - The valley admires its reflection
just like an overconfident man
it sees itself as a mountain.

Y - The evenly split chambers
of a frog's tepid heart, fresh from
pond-splashing and courting the night.

Z - Here is the body bent in death
blank eyes staring at the angle of hell
meeting with that of heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll take a large pastiche to go, please? <-- More Fun with Rhymes

Wednesday, 10 August 2005

Comfort Words

Yes, that's right, comfort words. Words that hold some meaning for me, or words that I love to say, hear, play with (not like THAT, well, not most of the time, anyway), and surround myself with. Silky blankets of words. In serveral languages, I might add. I may even give a few definitions.

Word Blankets
archly - At first glance, it seems as if this word must not be real. But it has the shape of a curve, and such a kick built into it.
breaking - A multi-purpose word with a climax of a harsh k in the middle, trailing off gently at the end. Like the calm after something breaks.
campanella - (Ital.) Handbell or trumpet flower.
carioca - (Span.) A long, involved card game played with two decks of cards, a complicated point system, and a lot of strategy.
daemon - British variant of demon.
etch - Such a skittery, lightly striking word.
ever - So many meanings and uses.
hollow - Like holding air in your cheeks and under your tongue.
jagúar - (Span.) Pronounced hai-war. Much more fun than saying this word in English.
key - Very small and short, but everyone is always looking for it, in some figure or another.
languid - Lovely and full of sounds that relax the tongue and mouth.
mesmerize - Anything with m and z puts people in a trance.
refract - The break between f and r reminds me of a refraction in and of itself. Light hitting water and jutting off at an angle.
shift - I can't read this word without having my mind slip into another thought.
sidhe - (Gael.) Fairy or fairies (people of the mounds). Pronounced as shee.
succursal - (Span.) A locale, location. Used to describe one branch of a chain franchise, such as a bank. It's a workout for the tongue.
topography - It has so many ups and downs it needs its own map.
wild - One of the few words that always forces me to open my eyes just that much wider when I say it.

This is just a start.

Wednesday, 29 June 2005

Hurt

You want it to hurt.
If there is pain
you can pretend
you suffered
through such torture.
But you never can
fool yourself completely
silence the voices -
hateful, mocking, vile -
nipping from inside.

So you make it hurt
mix pleasure with pain
until it's all you need
and the only way you feel.
If guilt were matches,
baby, you'd be a bonfire
and light yourself aflame.
It burns when you stop
and you never could say no.

Want hurt
pretend suffering
fool silence
voices mocking
inside screaming

pleasure pain
need away
guilty matches
baby aflame
never stop

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Yes, I'd like the baked ode with cyclic sauce. Can I get a side of octaves with that? <-- More Poetry

Wednesday, 13 October 2004

Swift/Slow

Watch me carefully
as I
turn out the numbers
for your slow execution.

I've made a selection
I think you should mention
my hand in your affairs;
ghost of your nightmares.

Heal this, O healer of
a thousand hearts:
my picture's worth its weight
in bloody words

And yet you waited
for not a one of them
to penetrate your
self-induced fog.

You think you've outgrown
those crocodile tears,
that I'll let you back
between my empty ears

to poison all my
wayward thoughts of
retribution, but I just want
a swift revolution.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Sunday, 29 February 2004

Too much

Too rough
too bold
too sexy for my own
damn goods
To barter, so sell me
to yourself and forget
that I might
have any say

Too sweet
too smart
too stifled to swat
mosquitoes like velvet words
covering my skin.
Nobody likes
an introspective woman
And Shakespeare
doesn't give
good enough head
to make it all
worth the effort.

Too talkative
too daring
too cold when it's time
to curl me
around your finger-
nails puncture my callouses;
little missiles
seeking
your idea
of the truth.

Progeny, ancestry,
I'm finally
off the vine that I amputated
to escape
from you,
the better to
hate the roots
by disassociation.

Too black
too white
too red for this
flourescent hospital
light of ages
that I power
with flailing veins.
I would inspire you
where it hurts but
there's not enough space to hate
and you'd only think
I was playing along.

You like the hard chase,
the fast win
and the easy sandbox
where your
plastic dinosaurs never
go hungry.
Nobody likes
the herbivores, they remind us
that we take
the easy way out.

Extinction is just
self-inflicted brain damage
with a do-it-yourself kit.

Too alive
too inspired
too blunt to be
a murder weapon
of the stars;
preservation
is no consolation
for lemons
and their sweetest seeds.
Bring me a double take
and you can take
my appetite with
one more bite on the hip.

Too perfect
too excited
too strange to change
my mind
about a voyage
that destroys
your remote-controlled
motorboats
and makes my
paper sailboats
bow and smile
in those whirlpool ripples.

Too much.


~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Sunday, 31 August 2003

Lights

The sanctity
of society
depends
so much
on the color of
one light
shining through the
hardest rain.

Lighthouse
Stoplight
Beacon
Outright
Downright crazy
Toy's got you hazy
On the details
but you know.

Green for leaves
Red for my fire
Yellow for a sun
Blue for my eyes
My, how time
does seem to fly
when you're waiting
for the sun to die.

~~~~AEW~~~~