Poem, untitled
Wednesday, 17 February 2010 03:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59My heart's flutters have started again.
This is when they start, when we move into spring.
In my head, winter is temporary, the road you take to get to spring,
but spring is permanent.
Spring is home, the door you walk out of, into the sunshine.
Summer is temporary, too, the road you take to get to autumn--
the comfortable back door you
meander in through.
No hurry to get inside, even though it's getting dark.
There are the seasons on the maps
and the seasons in my head.
This one says winter, but it's spring-eve,
when I start to wake up,
untangle,
get ready to open the doors and let the wind pass through me:
cold, going on hot.
My heart starts to flutter
and my hands
and my arms
feel filled with tears I haven't cried
and screams I haven't freed.
There's a havoc inside me, waiting with no patience to
blossom, bloom, burst open,
to have air on my skin warmed by nothing but the position of the earth in the sky.
Every year I grow closer to the flowers.
They describe the lunatic unbalance I feel; we share that.
Mine comes out in tears and giggles;
Theirs escape in unruly colors and lush perfumes,
in vines that reach to the heavens, and roots that marry them to the earth.
But I am one of them.
Someday, when my mind has untethered itself for good,
I'll be telling people that my name is Rose,
but that in reality, I'm a morning-glory.
This is when they start, when we move into spring.
In my head, winter is temporary, the road you take to get to spring,
but spring is permanent.
Spring is home, the door you walk out of, into the sunshine.
Summer is temporary, too, the road you take to get to autumn--
the comfortable back door you
meander in through.
No hurry to get inside, even though it's getting dark.
There are the seasons on the maps
and the seasons in my head.
This one says winter, but it's spring-eve,
when I start to wake up,
untangle,
get ready to open the doors and let the wind pass through me:
cold, going on hot.
My heart starts to flutter
and my hands
and my arms
feel filled with tears I haven't cried
and screams I haven't freed.
There's a havoc inside me, waiting with no patience to
blossom, bloom, burst open,
to have air on my skin warmed by nothing but the position of the earth in the sky.
Every year I grow closer to the flowers.
They describe the lunatic unbalance I feel; we share that.
Mine comes out in tears and giggles;
Theirs escape in unruly colors and lush perfumes,
in vines that reach to the heavens, and roots that marry them to the earth.
But I am one of them.
Someday, when my mind has untethered itself for good,
I'll be telling people that my name is Rose,
but that in reality, I'm a morning-glory.
(no subject)
Date: Wednesday, 17 February 2010 09:28 pm (UTC)We really do have to publish a collection of your poems. Seriously.
(no subject)
Date: Thursday, 18 February 2010 11:52 am (UTC)And thank you!
(no subject)
Date: Thursday, 18 February 2010 01:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: Sunday, 7 March 2010 12:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: Wednesday, 17 February 2010 11:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: Thursday, 18 February 2010 11:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: Saturday, 6 March 2010 11:25 pm (UTC)I just discovered this side of your journal, didn't know it existed until you friended this "version" of me.
I guess I'll have to search through to find more, or do you have another way to find your poems? I cannot navigate LJ well, still learning, even on my own new one. I have no idea how to organize things, or if I should even bother.
I like the line "there are the seasons on the maps and the seasons in my head."
So many of my own poems are seasonal oriented, and most are about autumn with a bit of winter thrown in. I despise spring and summer. I wither. I think I'm part vampire and allergic to the sun, which makes total sense that I would live in the desert, right?
Wendy aka Natasha Solten
(no subject)
Date: Sunday, 7 March 2010 12:31 am (UTC)For finding more, the tag is "by henry gibson" My tags are pretty obscure. Organizing is entirely optional. *g*
Summer is my least favorite season--I hate being hot, and it's too bright. But I love the freedom of spring and fall, of being able to open the windows and go out without a coat and boots.
I'd love to read your poems. I know how remiss I've been about commenting--your beautiful zine arrived and I never even said thank you. I'm really sorry. I've been waiting until I was feeling better to read--I don't want to get my mood all over your stories. *g*
Of course you live in the desert. *g* You're not the only friend I have who feels that way about sunshine and lives in the desert.
And I'm glad you found this LJ. It's where I keep my life.
(no subject)
Date: Sunday, 7 March 2010 02:52 am (UTC)Glad you got the zine. Read it when you feel good about reading it. Just so you know, there are no "negative" stories. They are all pretty much "happy endings" although it may not be all happy in getting there. I love angst.
I have some poems on my "broomstyx" old LJ. I have a new website for (Wendy Rathbone) that I'm going to upload poems to, but haven't yet. Still "under construction." I am going to post some of my best K/S poems on my LJ some time, when I have the time.
I currently am in the middle of doing three shows in a row so am away from home and can't work on my "passion" dammit. I want to be writing and only writing but I have to pay the bills so I have to work. Business sucks. My shows are "down" due to constantly hitting bad weather. I'm trying not to get depressed. But at least on my breaks and at night I can play on the computer a little bit if I have wireless. Next weekend I don't think I'll have any wireless, tho, so I'll have to suffer.