Distance (a #NaPoMo #APRPAD rondeau poem)



Carry me with you, near or far.
Tuck me in your right hip pocket.
My heart will be just where you are.
Hang me ’round your neck — a locket.

Close the door, or leave it ajar —
I’ll stick by you, ball and socket.
Carry me with you, near or far.
I’ll be in your right hip pocket.

Let’s adventure to realms afar?
We can fly! Don’t mind the clock — it’s
ours to choose, by plane or rocket.
We’ll watch the moon, count every star.
I’ll go with you, near or far.


Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #4:

For today’s prompt, write a distance poem. As a runner, I automatically think of running when I think distance. But hey, there’s long distance relationships. Or why not get beyond geographic distance and consider distance in terms of time or emotional distance. Or some other interpretation.



The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form



Your Eyes (a quatern)


There’s a wolf behind your blue eyes —
I see her there, past the disguise.
These waves of lust my soul capsize,
and none can hear my alarmed cries!

I’ve found to my own soul’s surprise —
That there’s a wolf behind your eyes.
To look away would be unwise.
And so I stare — and analyze.

I feel my hunger paralyze.
This ache it seems is emphasized,
by the wolf-stare — behind your eyes.
I can’t take flight, or find the skies.

My wings they twitch, and long to rise.
and yet, I know you — my demise.
I’ll dance with pain and agonize,
to feed the wolf in your blue eyes.


16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas). Each line is comprised of 8 syllables. 1st line is the refrain (R). In the 2nd stanza, the refrain appears in the 2nd line; in the 3rd stanza, the 3rd line; in the 4th stanza, the 4th (and final) line. There are no rules for rhyming or iambics.


Wolf-Bite (a somonka)


I have been bitten.
My skin is raging with fire.
My mind is burning.
Your teeth are my true weakness.
I am desperate for them.

I long to taste you.
My teeth need to sink into
the softness of flesh.
My ears need to hear your cries.
I must very soon be fed.



The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.


Insistent Moon


Full Moon Tonight by The Dark Silhouette


I woke missing you,
the moon’s face in my window.
Did she let you sleep?
Or were you awake, like me —
thinking of the way we kiss?

I could not find sleep.
Staring into the darkness,
the moon tapping on
my window, in the wee hours.
I imagined you with me.



The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.


My Plea

will you look into my eyes
— plunge the depths,
without looking away?
Can you see me?
Will you hurt me,
if I ask you to?

Can you find your teeth
and tear my flesh,
make me bleed–
silence the voices
in my head,
quiet the jangling
of my heart?

Will you draw from me
cries of pain,
tears of relief —
as though my body
were a well?

Can you scare me–
loose your growl,
rake your claws
into my skin?

Will you watch me
while I tremble,
watch me cringe,
as my mouth opens wide,
spills out screams
of agony?

Can you paint–
my flesh your canvas–
with strips of leather,
with sharpened steel,
with fingers dipped
into my blood?

Will you feed your hunger
with these things,
and find your way
in the darkness
–with me?



I Like Your Body



I love the way you fit in my body,
in the curve of my hip
in the small of my back,
inside the palm of my hand
and the roundness of my cheek.

I love how you fit next to me
and I next to you —
in the crook of your arm
and the hollow between your thighs.

Where the corners of your smile
lift at the sight of me,
these are the places I find myself —
and I adore that I fit so nicely into you.

If I could borrow poetic words
from e e cummings, I would tell you.
I like my body when it’s with your body
— because it’s true.

I like your body and my body
and the places where freckle
meets freckle like a sky full of stars.

I like the way your fingers
leave indentations in my hips,
the way your teeth carve moons in my flesh,
and the way your eyes burn into
my shoulders, my neck, my breasts.

I like the way your gaze cuts me open
like a knife sharpened on lust,
and the way your breath
fills the hollow of my throat.

I like your body, the weight of it over me,
the way it covers me, pushes me,
makes me crawl — both toward you
and away — up the wall.

I like what my body does,
in those moments
when I cannot figure out
whether I am in me, or in you,
or free to spread my wings —
to plunge into the blackest,
deepest parts of the sky,
where you once told me
the limits of your love for me might lie.

I like that my body is animal —
bristling predator and quivering prey —
that you can tie down, break open,
make hot and wet,
make tremble and convulse.

I like the way your mouth fits my mouth,
the way the taste of you —
all coffee and cigarettes,
warm wind and metal —
fills my mouth and washes
over my tongue.

I will swallow you down
like you are my very life,
sweeter than any honey
summer might offer.

I like the way your body moves
at the touch of my fingers,
cannot stay still
at the sound of my words.

I like the grimaces
that close your eyes,
and twist your smile
into an alphabet of pleasure.

I like the breathing-pulsing-pushing
of your hips and shoulders,
your back and it’s perfect arch,
your muscles rippling as you-inner wolf
fights to escape the flesh and sinews I adore.

I like your body inside my body —
outside my body, tangled up
and wrapped around my body.
I like the way you climb inside
and take control.

I like the way you surrender yourself
to my hungry jaws and darting tongue —
and my relentless fingers,
the way you acquiesce
to the madness in my curse words,
and my incoherent burbles of ecstasy.

I like the poetry
our bodies make together,
and the music
that drives our dance.

I love the places where I find you,
in my body — hours,
sometimes days later,
when you are hard at work,
bending and binding
fire and metal,
and I am sitting here
with pen and ink
staring at a blank page.

I like that you are here,
in the ache of my shoulder,
the bruise at my elbow,
the breath that echoes
just below my ear.

I find you constant
in the hunger that burns
deeper than my belly can
possibly be inside my body —
this body — that loves your body,
these fingers and lips,
these thighs and hips.

They adore you, crave you,
will always love you,
whether you are tangled
up with my body —
or simply on your way
back to me.



Siren Song



Your ears ring with amber warnings
as the western horizon pulses orange.
The eastern sky wears a shroud of haze.

Dancing widdershins ’round the house,
The wind chants incantations through cracks,
spills in smoky pools beneath the doors.

These walls and floors breathe in —
barrel-chested men with wet burlap
fists — breathe out, beating back flames.

You lean against the upstairs window
silhouetted by sunset scorching distant hills.
Copper flames reel and stagger in your eyes.

When you turn to me, they sear my skin.
All the heat in my body rises meeting yours —
and invites you, with ink-singed fingers:

Come lie with me, as our flesh burns.
Let smoke fill your lungs, clear your head
of the spinning vertigo that haunts your soul.