[x]

HeavyWhen you let me go
by the side of the road,
please remember the string
that you tied to my soul.
I'm the balloon you inflated
just to let go;
the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.

Why'd you have to cut this
delicate cord,
the thin wire trailing
from my heartbeat to yours?
Remember the science of
the desolate sky,
because the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.

UnbridledLet's dance, you and I.
Hello rambling psyche,
ambling soul,
grab my hands and
lead me in a jitterbug waltz
across my floor.

You've got two right feet
to match my lefts,
and our laughter hits
with the downbeat of the toms.
We sing flats and sharps,
perfect at being imperfect.

My hair's a mess and
you're not really there,
but I've got enough spirit
to be my own partner,
and anyone watching from the window
would understand.

AcheIt comes and goes
like an unwelcome houseguest,
leaving me with messes I don't need,
and it never shuts the door
to keep the cold out.
I tried shutting off the lights
and closing the blinds,
twisting the key in the padlock
and boarding the windows,
but as long as light can
seep through the cracks,
this shadow will follow
and dig its fingers into my shoulders.
I bruise easily, it knows,
and it revels in watching
me shift in discomfort
while it grips me.
Like a ghost,
it won't let go.

A Cold RenewalMake me pure,
like today's unmarked snow.
Windows are glowing with warmth,
soft amber lighting that casts itself in
stained glass fragments across these
glittering wastes.
I want release to color me
in that same way,
relief washing me out and
re-painting me in golden tones
that only letting go could understand.
And so,
I unclench my tired hands and
trade bitter sighs for peace.

Blink and You'll Miss ItThe wind reminds me of
the empty space to my left,
which I swear you filled
only minutes ago.
But if I rested my hand
where you were sitting,
it would be just as cold as
the realization that you're gone.

Honorary Sun SpotI'm going to tie a string
around the new dawn
and make the sun my balloon.
I won't let go as it keeps rising,
I just need warmth and this seems
like the best way to find it,
the day taking me with it
round the world.
Take a picture of your rooftop,
and I'll wave as I go by.

Color by NumberI want to scream in color,
tearing at my chest so that
my heart shows the spectrum of self.

Take the reds and throw them
on the blank wall behind me,
I don't need that shade on my conscience
any more.

Find your blues and
color my irises with them,
I just want to see the world
in anything but greyscale.

Green sits in my chest,
let it settle there before
I finally have the courage to evict it.

Purple is my heart,
you've wounded me.

Strung OutConsider me hanging on the line,
a dress without a body waiting for the sun,
vibrant when she's not heavy, waterlogged.
As a child, I enjoyed making orange smiles,
while wondering why we didn't have
a clothesline stretching from tree to tree
like I'd seen on the television.
I admired the way skirts became birds,
picked up by the wind they adored,
while sheets grabbed the wind like a sail,
and the clouds were always made of cotton,
and the denim sat like lead.

Now every time I put myself out to dry,
the sky gets heavy and breaks on me.
I am halfway towards being ready,
and then the rain rips me down again.
Maybe that's why

SleeplessBack pressed against the wall,
I stare into three o'clock nothings.
Left with watered-down thoughts,
exhausted, mumbled musings,
I have little more to do than
mutter myself down from
whatever fight I'm losing against myself
as the stars grow all the dimmer.
What about sleepless exhaustion
destroys the barrier between
stream of consciousness and the
structured mind?

Papercuts and RecollectionsI had forgotten your love letters
until they cut my finger when I
grazed the bottom of my drawer.
Folded crisp and neat,
some of the ink had smudged like
the crimson filling the whorls of my thumb.

I could hear your voice clearly,
saturated in the scrawling script.
You promised me forever,
now forever's gone.

Lost in that rush of reanimated feeling,
I could almost remember
the way your cheek felt resting
warm against my hair,
how you smelled like home.

The traces of you lingered like
the last hours of yesterday
before turning to the smell of dust
and the feel of paper too dry
to write on again.

MeltI prayed for rain because
once you told me
that it was your favorite thing.
The sound of it,
the way it smelled on the concrete cracked,
how it felt on your skin
if you were to step outside and
let it soak into your tired shirt.

I told you that I liked the snow,
and for me it was because
nothing was more symbolic
for how cold I am when compared to you,
how rain fights with itself when it
races down the window,
but snow is distant, aloof,
floating easy.

And if I shared that thought with you,
I know you'd tell me that
I'm just the clear sky, a blessing,
because you love me in ways
that I want to love you...
but can't.

So

FluxI remember when time moved slow,
like every second was two minutes late.
You'd blink and swear you were asleep,
but sleeping's a thing that lasted years.

I was five when I thought minutes were hours,
and months were just too long to bear.
Years moved by like shallow water in the winter.

Now it's a car on a hill with
the breaks disconnected,
and all I've got is
a steering wheel.

MorningHello dawn, so glad to know
you've gotten up from your hammock chair
and graced the world by coming up over
the hill at the bottom of the street.
You're all smiles and warmth and
robin's egg skies today,
and I'm wondering what you've dreamed about
to make you beam so broadly.
Not that I mind at all,
I'm never sad to see you flitting
through my cotton curtains cracked,
kissing my cheek like you were human.
You're as upbeat as the pep-band
playing stand tunes in my head,
cheering me on towards whatever goal
I'm aiming for these days.
Salutations, perfect sky,
my arms are wide, accepting, open,
so run to me as I embrace this

BooksSwallow me,
sea of papyrus!
Your inky ships cast on
pale waves flowing.
Little men stumbling
on the glossy decks,
debating fate and
predestination;
because who is God
but an author?

EasyWas there ever a girl so strange?
Smoky hearted, grabbed at the waist
by the next passing breeze.
She keeps one foot stuck in
the wrong side of her conscience,
the other grounded in nothing.
She replaces men like lipstick, she
wears her promiscuity like
last night's perfume.

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A Cold RenewalMake me pure,
like today's unmarked snow.
Windows are glowing with warmth,
soft amber lighting that casts itself in
stained glass fragments across these
glittering wastes.
I want release to color me
in that same way,
relief washing me out and
re-painting me in golden tones
that only letting go could understand.
And so,
I unclench my tired hands and
trade bitter sighs for peace.

UnbridledLet's dance, you and I.
Hello rambling psyche,
ambling soul,
grab my hands and
lead me in a jitterbug waltz
across my floor.

You've got two right feet
to match my lefts,
and our laughter hits
with the downbeat of the toms.
We sing flats and sharps,
perfect at being imperfect.

My hair's a mess and
you're not really there,
but I've got enough spirit
to be my own partner,
and anyone watching from the window
would understand.

A Poem By Any Other Name...Love is elusive, it seems,
but not for the two of you.
All the faces you make at each other,
like he was a mirror and you the image,
or maybe it's the other way around?
It doesn't really matter,
I suppose,
because you both see the same in each other.

I thought I had that gift,
but I found out so quickly
that the full length in what I thought
was the dressing room of my future
was really just a fun house
and the only one who thought
the image was clear
was me.

Romance was like poetry for me,
when I choose the title before I write the verse,
and am disappointed when it no longer fits.
This was supposed to be about perfect pi

Winter Weather AdvisoryI saw the mountains back away slowly
behind the twisting white,
moving like a dancer's scarf,
and the wind bit like a wolf against the bricks.

Names and ShapesI have broad shoulders,
for a woman.
They call my body
"apple shaped" in that
my hips are narrow.
I don't keep time like an hourglass,
I am not sweet like a pear.

But I still hold the allure
of the forbidden fruit I am named for,
and my shoulders are wide
to bear the weight placed upon them.

FluxI remember when time moved slow,
like every second was two minutes late.
You'd blink and swear you were asleep,
but sleeping's a thing that lasted years.

I was five when I thought minutes were hours,
and months were just too long to bear.
Years moved by like shallow water in the winter.

Now it's a car on a hill with
the breaks disconnected,
and all I've got is
a steering wheel.

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Burning Heart

by *callerofcrows, Jan 8, 2012, 6:27:44 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

We built a beautiful pyre,
and in my heart,
I'm holding your hand as it burns.
The sparks could become the stars,
jewels in Orion's belt.

I'd lace my fingers through yours
in a final act of faith
while we stare down the smoke
cradling the moon,
and each piece of kindling
that crumbles in on itself
leaves me a little less broken.

The light flickers,
so do the corners of your lips.
We needed this.

Burning Heartby *callerofcrows

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Doing a bit better each day.

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~dweckie Jan 12, 2012 Student Writer

Really beautiful, love it

♥

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*callerofcrows Jan 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!!

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~Poelee Jan 9, 2012

Sad and lovely...When I read it through the first time, I thought of firework-sparks, falling to the ground.

I'm glad you're doing better

Reply

*callerofcrows Jan 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much. In my head, it's a bonfire on a beach, just out of reach of the waves. The sparks are much like firework sparks, though. Sometimes I wish I could make movies just by taking what's in my head and projecting it onto a screen. Some of my poems seem so black and white compared to what I "see" but can't write down. I'd love to direct someday, but don't know how to get to that point.

Reply

~Poelee Jan 10, 2012

Oh, I know just what you mean! It can be so hard to make flat words, no matter how nice they can be, communicate the fullness of emotion...It would be wonderful if you could somehow film thoughts. Or dreams?

Reply

*callerofcrows Jan 10, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oooh, that'd be so fantastic.

Reply

*Mrs-Freestar-Bul Jan 9, 2012 Writer

Beautiful. Especially the last stanza. İ love it. Even the sad tone is working very good in this poem

Reply

*callerofcrows Jan 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

Reply

*beeinthebottle Jan 8, 2012 Writer

This is a really powerful piece, and the last line seals it. Well done!

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*callerofcrows Jan 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you very much!

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