This has not been as much of a different year's beginning as I thought it might have been, and we're 84 days into the year, and all I've come up with is 30 poems. How could this be, when in past years I've killed one a day for more than 6 months. WTF, that's the way it goes. Words come and words go, and only some words actually stick. These have stuck so far, for good or ill, and I should be happy to have any poems at all.
The Seasons - 19
My voice is fractured by the cold,
frozen in darkest night,
and later thawed with spring's bright rain
to summertime's delight.
The summer bakes me sexy tanned,
languid lazy days past,
then the fall with a death's head moon
puts me to rest at last.
[Appreciate the 8/6 meter]
Desire - 20
I feel my lips ripping from my flesh, unwilling
to leave you, even for the moment it would take to smile.
I want to smear your body with my blood, every pore and wrinkle
of flesh bright red and oxygenated with my heart's desire.
I would adorn you body with tufts of flesh
torn with my finger nails from bone.
My tears would anoint you, and the sweat
of my burning brow will make you mine.
errant - 21
I am on a quest
for unspoken mysteries of my heart,
to find lost wisdoms I might have known.
Thoughts from where, thoughts lost
of purpose and meaning, I might find
a new beginning. My quest
among forgotten memories like landscapes
take me past all I never knew I once knew
of fictional hopes long abandoned
of supposed lovers' unnecessary tears.
My journey will be over
when the prize is won
and the daylight has meaning
Daily Dichotomy -22
it begins again,
that obsess my mind
into fanciful apprehensions
I cannot escape.
Should I want to lose
the fires of my imaginations?
Sunny Days -23
"Ain't nothing better in the world, you know,
than lying in the sun with your radio..."
Too early to call it spring, the warming
sun has returned with storied memories
that speak to skin and bone, soil and air,
plans and rain.. rhizomatic evocative
messages signaling the return
of the divine light that is seed
to new beginnings.
Write of Spring -24
Sun softly singing month before spring's
crawling green invasion speaks soothing
apologetic regrets, a lover's returning
from a bitter absence, again, with new promises
without assurance that she won't leave again,
yet offering a season of new life warm
forgiving enticing embracing again
I take her in my arms.
Another thought, a paused regret awaiting
on the rocky steps up from the beach
looking back over right shoulder
at the path just taken and the panorama
left behind spreads before me
my life in a view in a moment of a day,
though I return as spring, offering
I'll take you with me when I go.
Administering Love -25
There is no question of your marked fidelity
and your acceptance of all obligatory gestures,
observed and completed. Each and every
gesture demarcated, documented and
conspicuously displayed for each and all
to see according to plan. Each caress
workshopped and methodologically sound,
conveying every appropriated nuanced
meaning, according to plan, vigorous and sincere
heart felt and without reproach, according
to need and duty without fault or complaint.
Such a happy duty is your love,
crying forth and announced, according to plan,
truth and meaning a public pronouncement.