The first thing I saw upon entering the inn was the tabby perched on the same table as the ale jugs, pink tongue curling between the toes of its hind paw. Sleek fur gave away its position of a cat specifically kept for the elimination of vermin in the home, and it did not seem to care about anyone or anything else, as cats are wont. Its shadow hung distended behind it, like a curtain hiding secrets from the world. Who knew what dark alleyways it slunk through while away from home, what it hunted. The room seemed emptier than usual, its occupants preoccupied with matters other than those strictly reflected in the surroundings.…
When I Left you alone You grew large, expanding Until you seeped through all my heart’s Chambers. When I Indulged the fantasy, dreaming Of leaving, you cajoled With verses from Afar. – – – This is my attempt at a mirror cinquain for yeah write’s March poetry slam. Join us next week with your own cinquain!
Ere I go, tell me you love me, the way You did when fervor newly found ingress In hearts untested by lust’s impish play, `Fore cares wore down our souls to fathoms less. Commit to me devotion sweet anew In ways my aging heart finds fresh relief From years that the withdrawal parched in lieu Of soothing solace, arid in motif. Though Time be fleet of foot and cruel of heart, Her shoulders heaving moments up and spent, She still leaves mem’ries trailing aft, to chart The road `twixt then and now; marks what was meant. Though two be one through threadbare days, still no Love loses all, `less lovers cease to sow.
Stand still, and I will read to thee To fit the naked foot of Poesy All of which were words, words, words But in my simple ignorance I suppose Much have I seen and known; cities of men From all internal injury exempt Pulsing with the life of the gods— Again and again, however we know the landscape of love One dignity delays for all— And all the words that I write These are my starry solitudes So I take my treasure home For an Approving God
It patters on the banana fronds Runs in rivulets down muddy streets Mossy tufts sprout in the old gypsy’s room The house crumbling around us. Years have passed without it ceasing It will wipe down our memories, and with them Our history.
The Saturday before school started, Tina and her mom went to Second Hand Love for back-to-school clothes. Tina hated the feeling of wearing someone else’s jeans, but after a few wears she forgot all about it. After all, one could swing from the monkey bars just as well in pre-owned pants as ones that came brand new from Macy’s, and the other kids only made fun the first week of school before moving on to easier targets than Tina. As her mom searched for necessary items of clothing that didn’t show too much wear at the knees or pilling across the chest, Tina moseyed around the more interesting shelves. She picked…
I tried to forgive them, for my sanity’s sake, but the longer I sat there the more I wanted revenge. Imagining walking back to town through the piss-soaked streets, the mud so thick it formed an unwieldy suction around every step, my jaw stiffened. They must have snatched the boots while I slept–it was probably Petyr’s idea, I never trusted those murky eyes of his–and taken them to sell at the stalls with all the rest of the hawkers. Worse than the muddy streets, though, was the money I would have to scrape together for another pair of shoes. Hopefully they’d have combat or hunting boots in decent shape. I didn’t want to settle for…
In the span of a breath, everything changed It fell from her hand, hung from a limp trunk Glinting with hazard, its surface warned us Of perils she ignored, or so we thought. Her voice climbed branches mellifluously Effortlessly returning humanity Back to us so we could hear the melody Of our own souls singing forgotten songs I miss the unsung, unwritten music That filled infinite possible nightclubs If we could only dart into the past Quickly enough to pluck it from her arm.
“Can I have the last one?” she asked, reaching her fork over. “Hell no!” I swatted it away, a fly hovering over the syrup. “I never get to eat Æbleskiver,” I said, savoring another bite. “You had your chance to order better.”
These four walls enclosed me So long I don’t remember Sunshine or moonlight Or much beyond broken promises No one made me And painted dreams I glazed myself. I daub another layer Actively awaiting the Jungles Cathedrals Cafés From my chimeric canvas.