Features for week of November 28, 2010

One often calms one’s grief by recounting it. Pierre Corneille

I want to know what it is by queenenigma

the rest was amusement by emilyhurts

drowned in the bathtub years ago
a floating body that drifted with the tide
i was flushed down the toilet
into my secret wonderland
to start all over underground
into the secret place where
the earth keeps all of the
unborn children
and all of the small pets
that were cast out
the womb of the earth
keeps them safe
from the faces that destroyed
them and ripped them to shreds
in a bloody haste
simply, we were all too much
trouble

so i swallowed the ocean
to free you of me
to make sure
you were rid of the pain
the gnat i had become to
your heart
i smashed my insect body
against a rock
to break the chains
that bound me to you
and then i giggled
having died quietly

don’t look for me
on the surface
i’ve gone into
my soul forty times
and became lost
in the labryinths
of memories
i put into cellaphane
so as not to disrupt
your sensitivity

i am not here for
you to scream into
me as a megaphone
i simply disintegrated
into the ashes
and you swept them away
with the soot from the fireplace
i laid in agony but you never came
so i burned

then i ran away
threw myself
from the cliffs of rocks
to leave fate
no more chances
let me die in peace
embrace the jagged
knives below
please just leave me
alone
give me the hour
of my bereavement
the choice of leaving

i live inside the clumps
of earth
i drowned years ago
the rest was amusement

Give me something to believe in (through rose colored glasses) by Will Crane

My Long Last Goodbye by trwoody

In the twilight of my conscious
between wake and sleep ……..
darkness falls
scattering shadows to chase the light
I see your face…..
I feel your touch
I still hear you call my name
Sixteen months since you said goodbye
yesterday has been lost
in what should have been tomorrow
time has tempered
love and sorrow
celebrating the better….
sharing the worst
sweetheart, friend, lover, wife
you are my past, you were my life
All our firsts,
love and laughter,
pain and loss
life together’s cost
now these memories
I alone bare
with no one left to share
A thought of a past experience
brings a twinkle of remembrance
with a smile of recognition
comes a flow of emotion
making a laugh
as close as a cry
As snapshots of my mind come flooding back
I realize just what I lack
with your part gone
I move through this life
as a pawn
the world is distorted,
out of balance and unkind
you loved me for who I was
who I could be
you made me…………. who I am
we walked as one,
through life
constant companions
in time

I close my eyes,
I still hear you call my name
In the morning I hear your calling
In the evening I feel your urging
sometimes insisting
sometimes pleading
but the one I wish not to hear
one of panic and of fear
to know your body is failing…
your mind still clear
I remember this too,
As you say your goodbyes and face your fear,
true love and selfless care
across time and generations, to see
the voice of a child of three
break the clutches of pain and death
and awaken as a call
from your comatose fall
searching with eyes that cannot see
reaching with arms that cannot move
to find the source of love and devotion
from a life of dedication
Now we give you up and send you home
you fought your best,
you deserve the rest
as our daughter and I whisper in each ear
and tell you it’s alright,
you’ll always be near
say farewell and let you go
to wake to a better day
we will forever remember this scene
of peace so calm and so serene,
…….. your final smile……. your eternal tear
Look back on a time now complete
knowing life will never be the same
I wish only……….to hear you call my name

more I am hurt, more strong I become by queenenigma

Frailty by lolowe

I’m bound to you
Flighless feathers wound by
Stripping the fray of twine tight
Suffocating the startle of a
Breath back into my lungs
Breaking flesh and light before
The flash of pain runs red everlasting
A stream of cuts and bruises
Swelled
The backwash drum of a fragile heart beating
Thump
Thump
Carrying the wavelength of a
Whisper to pulse then stop and
Repeat its words until only the
Singular sound of it fills the hollow
Of my bones
When
When
When…

Will the wounds heal?

No question regarding time can ever be answered quickly
And so countless cycles create
Themselves in the spaces where
An answer should reside
Each
More frail than the last
Until
By the force of its eventual turn
It snaps like the vulnerable piece of makeshift twine
Unravelling an answer
Now
Now
Now…

Is the time to listen

Until words gain the right to make new again

lost in her thoughts by Ingz

When We Danced in the Rain by Cassidy JK

Remember when we danced in the rain?
Well, you danced and I watched until you pulled me from the porch.
You said, in your best Wicked Witch of the West voice, “I’m melllllltinnnnnng.”
I said, “I’m melting too,” and melted into you.

When I think of you I see the curve of your back
where my arm fit perfectly when pulling you close.
I still hear the sounds you made when I’d draw you near and
we danced as one, rain or shine.

I miss your breath on my skin while you sleep,
how it tickled the hairs and sweetened the air.
I miss burying my face in your neck where
safety and love allowed my weakness to not hide.

What’s left of my soul aches for you,
but now I rarely allow the dream.
It hurts too much, this never again, never again.

Why can’t you see that pain’s anger
was stronger than my love for you?
All I’ve said I’d never be, I’ve become.
I have replaced the sweet, sweet taste of your lips with
bitter tastes of hatred, blood and vengeance.

I beg you, go away!
Get out of my head, get out of my heart!
Let me toil in flame with these sins,
trying to forget when we danced in the rain.

Loving You Would Destroy Everything by David Mowbray

you hurt me by darkvampire

you hurt me
casually
like the guy who
shot the
prisoner
in that old ‘nam
newsreel.
you have the same
dead eyes.
the way you
look
at me
sometimes
is worse than
hate.
detached.
like the way I
imagine the
hangman
looks at the
rope.
I have seen that same
look
in the eyes of
hunting beasts
but in their
case
they seem to
feel
they are pursuing
fate.
with you it’s
different.
when you
cut me
it’s not to
fulfil
your destiny
but
like
Michaelangelo
you try to
carve away
the surplus
flesh
to reveal what’s
underneath
yet
you leave no
renaissance
masterpiece
but only
empty
pain

you are a
sick
bastard
and
cruelty is your
drug

Broken Heart Lady Portrait by Mark Skay

How I Once Loved You: Unbearably by Blanchott

How my legs shook as I presented the ring: as if I had just had a car accident.

That night I took you in the graveyard: allowing them voyeuristic joy, both the dead and the ants; the latter loving your flesh as much as I did.

How proud I was that you were you: accepting and passionate.
Our bodies fit together as if we were born for one another.
Born to express our passion, exhaust our bodies, never our lust,
which was all consuming and for so long

You remember the kitchen? How you were rivited to our reflection in the window behind me. From counter to den, the rug would have marked us, our movements so passionate.
In the bedroom we finally exhausted ourselves.

How we were filled with wonder at the possibility of ruling the world from our own corner; we played with Hodges. You painted, worked the pottery wheel, I wrote. The only noises the click of the kiln, the rustle of silver leaves, and the cries of our exigency.

How safe I felt with you: safe because you would not judge me.

How we worshiped one another: like Orpheus I would have traveled to the world of the shades to rescue you from the Pluto of your unconscious torment. My Eurydice, you would have avoided the fatal strike to the heel; snakes respect such passion as we had.

How I fell in love with those stripped overalls: the swell of your breasts irresistible under the pressure of your leotard. I knew immediately upon walking into the house that, whatever the cost, I would remove those overalls, caress those orbs, or pinch when the time was right.

How we were frustrated that first night, election night 1994: In spite of certain logistical issues what happened was necessary. Never mind the sister. No protection: perhaps the wait made it sweeter. A run for condoms while it was still dark outside. Can there be too much foreplay? Goddamn straight. By 3:00 I was damn near ready to play McGyver and use a glad bag. The fortunate aspect of having no condoms; we spent hours exploring each others bodies, created a science of erotics.

All that passion: how did it escape? The arguments did not help.
The secret thoughts we harbored of being free. All of the time I spent in my office? How could I not, orals bearing down upon me. I dreamed of Plato, Derrida, Kant and Foucault on the rare occasions that I slept.

Whatever the case, we sure did screw the monkey. Were you as
relieved as I was to have escaped? Were you as sad? How I once loved you: unbearably.

TBF features for the week of November 8, 2010

It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to select feature works, so I’m very excited! I hope you enjoy this passionate and emotional picks.

 

Together agains the waves of life (by robinellenlucas)

we are
together
against the waves
of life…

take my hand
move forward with me
quietly
to discover…

only because i whispered it
only because i asked you

r.e.l. 10/23/10

 
Foolish girl (by Jet…)

Foolish Girl-
One sided heart.
You let it fall…

Foolish girl

 
Ange blanc by Auquier



50-Foot Barbie Has Some Questions About God by Margaret Bryant

 

Moonlit Hands by lolowe

Your hands
Resemble a leaf struck
By the moon
Veins
On a surface
Of transparent brown
Paper thin
Fragile
Shaking in the wind

 

Your Eyes by kashmirecho

I was wrong about your eyes. They are not blue. They are a golden hue- a color I’ve never seen before except maybe in a crayon box. Not a gold like 24K jewelry-a deeper color but still as bright-twinkling like a star. Glowing like war embers in a hot fire, especially when we hold each other’s gaze for more than a few seconds. The heat is in our eyes, I’m sure you can see it in mine too. I think our eyes were meant to meet.

 

ever-present by David Mowbray

 

Hello Grandpa by KLPJPhoto

 

Your Eyes by kashmirecho

was wrong about your eyes. They are not blue. They are a golden hue- a color I’ve never seen before except maybe in a crayon box. Not a gold like 24K jewelry-a deeper color but still as bright-twinkling like a star. Glowing like war embers in a hot fire, especially when we hold each other’s gaze for more than a few seconds. The heat is in our eyes, I’m sure you can see it in mine too. I think our eyes were meant to meet.

CONVOS WITH GOD THE 3:16 FILES by 8upchef

As I listen to you
Speaking through John
I am glad to have you
Sitting beside me
I have so many questions

Why did you send him
Why didn’t you come
Were you afraid
Was he afraid
Did it work

You sent you’re son
He whom you love most
Which is a better jesture
Than coming yourself
And we believe

You could not come yourself
That would be self serving
You teach us against that
We heed your warnings
And we believe

You were afraid
But not for yourself, for us
What we could self inflict
But you guided us
And we believe

Christ did fear
Not for himself
But for our deaf masses
But he made us listen
And we believe

It worked so very well
In him you sent lessons
You sent salvation
You sent your truth
And we believe

So thank you
For sitting here with me
And talking with me
For answering me
And putting me at ease

 

Orbiting Space and Coffee Rings by Kristin Reynolds

My Grandmother
hummed songs
to no-one—
to darkness,
to anyone

while circling
the rim of her coffee cup
with three crooked
middle fingers.

Half the time she would whistle—
half the time it was
just the click of her
long fingernails
seeking new orbits
from memory,
touching what she could
of earth;
holding her feet
down.

My five year old daughter
just asked her eight year old brother:
“Are you still blind?”
Just as I was about to write the next line
of this poem—
about how their Great Grandmother
was blind;
and how I figured,
that the reason she circled that coffee cup’s rim
was:
because touching anything
is better
than touching nothing.

No answer.
My daughter asks louder:
“Are you still blind?”
My son is Frankenstein armed, and grabbing
my shoulder;
I am staring in disbelief.
“Mom? Is that you?” he asks,
pretending around corners
through time.

I answer him—dumbstruck and smiling
at the way it all works, the clock guts
and genius of this whole operation—
“Yes, dear, it’s me.”

“Oh.” He answers,
then gone.

“Are you still blind!”
His sister yells
through space—through
hollow-mouthed threads

as I am circling
around the last time
I saw
my Grandmother’s face;

and how I just…

walked out
that door.

gone.

© Kristin Reynolds 11 7 2010

 

Verte Eco-Friendly by Shanina Conway

 

love and gravity 2-a tribute to Newton and Einstein by Frederic Levy-Hadida