poems I wrote

[brightrosefox]

The Elf-Child

When she was small
She was their child
Kitten eyes and butterfly wings.
And she grew
But stayed small
Stayed the size of her bones
Stretched in milk and silken skin
Fawn eyes and willow body.
She became a rose
And they tried to touch her petals
Tried to drink her nectar while she slept.

But she was stronger
And she had thorns
Now her nectar burned
Innocent the child, wise the woman.
She let her wings grow
And they were clipped
When she thought she couldn't fall.
Buried in a colder earth, and they tried
To take the marrow from her very bones
They wanted to pry her, pull her,
Press themselves inside her
Touch inside her glass house and walls of stone.

Then he caught her, held her, healed her,
Threw her to the sky and flew beside her
He took her hand, eyes of trust
Her secret garden key,
The first inside, the deepest within.
He kissed her a thousand times,
Touched her a thousand times,
Saved her, made her, opened her skin
Loved her, and she was love.

When she was small she dreamed of faeries
Now she dances in the night
Goddess, lover, child, mother.
In the night she lays with him
A butterfly dreaming, free in flight
With fire in her faerie heart
With stars beneath her skin.


Shiefox (Shy-Fox)

My lover is a semi-precious gemstone.
My lover, call him diamond in the rough.
Smooth on the outside, but inside,
Under the light,
He's scratched and scarred.
Little pieces here and there
Chipped away by time
Hands and hands turning him
Over the years, burning him.
My lover is the rare jewel
That sparkles in the right light,
And little chips and scratches
Make it all the more precious.
And when held in the right hands
Shines with a brightness
That makes the world shine back.


Butterfly In A Glass House

My lover calls me a butterfly.
He says I am free.
But I live in a glass-house cocoon
With nets made of steel and spidersilk.
In there I am free,
I dance like I’m made of air.

He calls me butterfly, he says I am free.
I dance in a glass house with the windows shut.
After dreams I flutter my wings against the glass
My eyelashes long and thick
Like Mediterranean butterflies.
I dream I am a butterfly
I am a shy butterfly
Staring at the sun from inside.


Summer

This is the world inside the mouths of gods
This is Fahrenheit 98 and 451
Wind hot and moist like breath
Ground rough like sandpaper tongues.
This is the ocean with the sun on our backs
Beating on our heads like a drummer's hands,
Turning our hair two shades lighter.
This is ice cream melting on sidewalks
Strawberry lip gloss that compliments a tan
This is strappy high-heeled sandals
Cotton skirts and midriff tops,
Whispering trails of perfume
That remind us of fruit and flowers.
This is playtime in the sprinklers
A slow-motion sort of silent dream,
Where sex is the roll of ice across our throats
Where a gentle breeze is as close and sweet
As a lover’s chocolate melting kiss.


A Song For Rome

Countrymen, but not friends
With your spears and metal
Bodies cased in tarnished silver weight.

Silent tigers, with bloody eyes, with claws
Tinted black with brother blood.

Lend your ears
And your hands, eyes, heads
As decapitation reigns
As royal redness stains
The white marble of our throne

All hail.

And you?
Brutus, Julius, Marcus, Augustus,
Conquerors of crumbling cities
Raiders of the dying god
Will you speak
Of Florence, Sicily, or the Black Sea
Will you speak of the wolves of Rome
The mother who nursed you
With her silver-furred teats and gleaming fangs
The brother you slaughtered like a death of myth
And you, with a knife in your back,
What would you say?

Now the ampitheaters
Stand and echo the cries of ages
They show us the sacrifices
Torn between the teeth of lions
The metal and steel twisted in dust.
The baths are empty and ringed in black
The old voices in the marble halls
Cracking with years, ghosts of a world
Where the aqueducts survive
To tell the tale
To anyone who comes to hear.


The Brave Ones

What price we pay
What cost innocence
What graves we dig
To bury ourselves.
What world is this
Just outside
Touch forbidden
Unforgiven.
Bury me not in the shroud of your tears
But in the soothing soil of your soul
Where I am withered
Only to heal
In the night
At the price
Of my innocence.


Tomorrow, Love

Today I took my love
Down from the old tree where it hung
For years, swinging
Like a child's swing
In the breeze that always said summer
Today I found my love.

Yesterday I lost my love
In the long woods where we
Used to play those games you always see
Children laughing, sunlight shining
All the little games.
But love was lost in the long woods where we
Still come to play like children
Love was lost
Yesterday I lost my love.

Tomorrow I will see my love
Go into the long woods and to
The old tree where we used to swing
Like children in summer
Losing and finding each other
In the long woods in sunlight
And then moonlight
When moonlight comes
I will see my love
Where I lost my love
I will find my love
By the old tree in the long woods
Where we used to play
And I will have love.


Ophelia’s Daughter

Every road a winding turn
Every river flowing forward, and
You can’t look down, and you can’t look
You don’t want to see, all cracked, distorted
Your eyes are holes and your skin is cracked snow
White with the apple, with poison in your throat.
Every time we see, we scream, cry into our shards
Of glass lying scattered on the floor.
We think it’s hate, we think tough love.
We think bird cages and white bones, we think
Vellum skin, silk skin, white skin
We think youth and we think purity.

Every door a broken lock, you can’t go in,
And you can’t listen, to the words on the other side
Because you broke the lock, don’t want to open the door.
Don’t want to listen, you can’t listen.
You lie here touching your hips, your bones
You lay in the night watching the moon
You feel your bones, your skin like silk
You see your eyes like ink in milk.

The world unwinding is long, and we follow
The tiny voice that whispers in our ears
And we dream of fruit and bread and honey.
The broken locks are on the floor, the voices on
The other side are quiet now, eyes watching us
At the edge of the world and we see down below
Where it’s dark but it’s darker
Inside our bones, and outside
There is fruit and bread and honey.
The voices are quiet now
And the road that winds, the river that flows
Goes on, as we step into the world
With fruit and bread and honey
And the voices are quiet now.


Echo of You

Is there something in your eyes
You don't want me to see?
Has the world grown too dark
Or too bright for you to
Come out of the shadow
That you've hidden in your head
Where it seems so much safer
Because right now you aren't dead?

Where can I find you
Where can I hear the echo of you
When will you let me touch you?
When will you let yourself feel?

Did I say something that you
Just don't want to admit?
Do you think I'm wrong when I say
It will be all right
Or that the world around you
Is trying to show you
The world inside you
That you're reluctant to live?

Where can I find you
Where can I hear the echo of you
When will you let me touch you?
When will you let yourself feel?

These friends you love so well
Are all gone now
You're alone for a moment
And you can't see outside
That closed dirty window
With the heavy, dark curtain
That blocks out the light
Which hurts your eyes
And when the phone rings, you let it
Even though it might be me,
Trying to find
A way back to you
Trying to call back
Through my echoes to you

Where can I find you
Where can I hear the echo of you
When will you let me touch you?
When will you let yourself feel?

When can I love you
When will you let me inside
When will you let me answer
The echo of you?


Glass Skin

I see you floating there
Underneath my skin where
paleness like glass and razors
that cut like the smallest scratch
on a glass lens, where you live
waiting for me to speak
while my throat is squeezed
by the serpent I swallowed
under hot lights and voices.

That was yesterday, years ago
show me the voices now,
where the lights are dim and
there are shadows that speak
and where no one hears a whisper
because of a shout that echoes in the hall
inside my head where I see you floating
there in my skin under the blue vein
pulsing in my wrist where whiteness breathes
where the razors won’t touch because I am glass
I am pure thin glass and you can't break me
I will be glass.

I'm underwater, breathing my fear
outside of my head drowning and here
voices in my line of sight keep drifting
where I can hear you call my name but I
keep drifting because I don't need you
but I do need you and I cry to the water
where I move and turn to water
because I can't be contained I don't choose
to be contained and again I see you
there under my skin where the blue vein pulses
you are smiling so I smile.

When I fall asleep I dream
of glass and sunlight and you breaking
my glass prison and as you smile
I smile back and say hello.


After all this time, I still come back to these most recent little tidbits. They are my soul laid bare. Anyone who can guess the theme of "Ophelia's Daughter" gets a cookie. Or three.

Comments

[lupercal.livejournal.com]

They are very good. I like a lot. May I point you in the direction of a new community one of my friends has set up called just_writing. Hope it's of some help.