Gallery
Literature
Morning Tea
It is too early
and the tea has burned my tongue,
extinguishing all taste of you.
The moment before colour
suspends on a breeze
at the curtain
and I imagine you dream of me.
But it is morning already
and I know the sharpness of day
will have erased all softness
from your arms,
you will be once more all angles
for me to bruise myself on.
You will wake with a sigh,
with wanting and need,
with no pleasure tugging at lips.
I will melt into the day
to avoid your frowns and hurried steps,
too cowardly in the bright of day
to slow you with a kiss, a smile.
I know all this before you stir
to break the silence
of morning tea.
All
200 deviations
Literature
Morning Tea
It is too early
and the tea has burned my tongue,
extinguishing all taste of you.
The moment before colour
suspends on a breeze
at the curtain
and I imagine you dream of me.
But it is morning already
and I know the sharpness of day
will have erased all softness
from your arms,
you will be once more all angles
for me to bruise myself on.
You will wake with a sigh,
with wanting and need,
with no pleasure tugging at lips.
I will melt into the day
to avoid your frowns and hurried steps,
too cowardly in the bright of day
to slow you with a kiss, a smile.
I know all this before you stir
to break the silence
of morning tea.
Featured
102 deviations
Literature
Morning Tea
It is too early
and the tea has burned my tongue,
extinguishing all taste of you.
The moment before colour
suspends on a breeze
at the curtain
and I imagine you dream of me.
But it is morning already
and I know the sharpness of day
will have erased all softness
from your arms,
you will be once more all angles
for me to bruise myself on.
You will wake with a sigh,
with wanting and need,
with no pleasure tugging at lips.
I will melt into the day
to avoid your frowns and hurried steps,
too cowardly in the bright of day
to slow you with a kiss, a smile.
I know all this before you stir
to break the silence
of morning tea.
dialect pieces
26 deviations
Literature
fisher of men
Our little church by the sea
had paintings on the wall of
a Jesus in a dress.
This Jesus had broken jars
next to bare feet,
and I hoped he didn't cut himself.
And this Jesus had grapes and wine
while on our beaches
we had rum.
Imagine this Jesus walking on water
that look just like ours
but seemed so foreign and far away.
This Jesus was a fisher of men,
most likely because he had the wrong clothes
for fish.
the sea
21 deviations
Literature
Rain Haiku
It won't rain today
despite my watering of
this wilting garden
haiku
28 deviations
Literature
alphabet
I have lost the alphabet
in the face of a stranger
this secret surges inside of me
lips conspiring to keep it down
teeth flashing only the moon
in quick slips of desperation
there is an ocean of words
breaking against the shore of my tongue
but they have lost their footing
and I swallow them whole
I have lost the alphabet
in the face of a stranger
but I will wait to tell them
romantic foolings
25 deviations
Literature
We could have stayed
We could have stayed, you know,
in that land of rain
that swept side to side across
the hills,
drowning out all sound.
We were always silent when it rained,
school children gave up their chanting
of sums to read and write notes
in a darkened classroom,
rain on the galvanized roof overpowering
Miss and Sir.
And we, we each withdrew
to separate rooms inside,
depending on touch and
the flashing of smiles,
a softened sort of love
to find each other without words.
You were patient when drenched,
knowing it was futile,
knowing everyone was huddled
and waiting.
But when the rain withdrew
we stretched towards sunlight,
and the
nature
3 deviations
olg ghosts
9 deviations
Literature
.snow.
snowflakes in your hair,
your laughter melting my heart;
I am warm with love.
Scraps
69 deviations
Featured102