Tag: pain

Dis-ease – a poem about love and cancer

Poetry

I watch her body
fight life, death
fight for breath
and I am
inside her, she
inside me
will always be
since the moment
I was formed
a daughter

she watches me
seeks the mother
the child
the woman
she wishes I’d be

can I
lose myself
inside her
ravished body
for the sake
of mother’s love
of fewer regrets

the monster came
eating away at
extravagant love
radical inclusion
when I was still
a child

came again
to devour her body
after I discovered
declared my purpose
to love
unconventionally
in spite of
her closed door

can it find me now,
reach for me
with dripping claws
deep inside
the me in her —
can I conquer
this disease?

Will she?

AUDIO FILE:

IMAGE CREDIT: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/48/d1/7f/48d17fa73224c9f12218298f6ea43fcd.jpg

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Warning

Poetry

BEWAREWOLF

I have teeth
and I will cut you.
Be afraid —
I will hurt you.
Walking the streets,
I want my fill.
Light my fire and
I will find you —
take this warning.

—–

AUDIO FILE:
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#NaPoMo INFO:

Found Poetry Review (FPR) Challenge – IMPROMPTU #1 – Guest Poet Patrick Williams created and offered a Random Prompt Generator. Check Out the Post here:

http://www.foundpoetryreview.com/blog/impromptu-1-patrick-williams/

My elements were as follows:
PW FPR 1 Prompt Screen
TheWeldingEngineerP32
TheWeldingEngineerP33
—–

Wolf-Bite (a somonka)

Poetry

wolfteeth

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.

—–

POETIC FORM:

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.

AUDIO FILE:

My Plea

Poetry

kissthehand
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?

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Manifesto

Poetry

fly

 

I believe in fairy tales,
in love,
and lust,
in the honey beneath a lover’s tongue,
in the full moon,
and a sky brimming with stars,
in a good cup of coffee,
that poetry is necessary to keep society from falling apart.
I believe we were truly meant to fly.
I believe in the right to love whomever I choose,
radically and extravagantly
and that every relationship is unique.
I believe there is pleasure in pain,
that vulnerability is a well of strength,
in trusting my heart, even if the world spins backward —
and I believe in the taste and sound of words —
in my mouth, my ears, and inked into the skin of a page.
———-
AUDIO FILE:

Cuts

Poetry

image

You may not be able to see it,
but these new cuts are deep.
I don’t have a tough exterior.
I’m not some warrior woman
wearing armor to protect
myself against love’s blades.

I am strong, a fighter, yes,
and maybe also naive.
I’m an idealist armed with trust. 
I am ink and emotion and poetry–
wild, and winged, and free.

These are my strengths,
the best gifts I can offer
in this game of love. 
Striving to be true to me,
I extend a beating heart
in trembling, hands.

I take up magic and hope,
and words instead of armor.
I reveal my fear and weakness,
show the best places to wound,
ask you, trust you, not to cut me.

I trace my scars with your fingers, 
tell the stories,  the lessons I learned.
I believe that you are different, 
worthy of my trust, man of your word.

I’m learning, that your silence
is a razor blade I imagined harmless.
I believed it safe, maybe even dull.
Maybe you did too? And maybe you
can’t see it, but these new cuts are deep.

Kneeling

Poetry

kneelingbareassed

The weight
of your gaze
in a dark room.
The flicker
of a single
sacred flame in
consecrated space.
Your breaths.
The clink of a collar
at my throat.
Your touch.
Your touch.
Your touch.
Energy and light
spilling from my core.
Your hand reaching
for mine. Surrender.
Blinking up at you
through silent tears.
Shifting. Change.
Safe.
Instructions and
your voice in
a quiet mind.
Anticipation.
The sound
of the wind.
The sting
of leather.
Gasps and shudders.
Music that made
laughter bubble.
Strength. Trust.
Pain.
Sobs. Flight.
Sweat. Water.
Chocolate.
Blanket. You.
Wonders whispered.
Your touch.
Your touch.
Silence.