[x]

For the love of birdsThree little birds pitch on my doorstep.
I keep them in a jar
because
nothing I have is truly mine.

I am only the lonely,
waiting for it to come back to me.

Pocket StainsShe keeps pens in her pockets,

and the ink bleeds

d

o

w

n

her thighs,

dripping into her shoes

and soaking through the soles,

so that people will see her footprints

and know

where

she’s

gone.

Regarding ProtocolThis
sunrise
is not what
I imagined--
the breathless tide of a love I can't keep.

A time before sunriseOut here on my own,
this crushing weight,
lifted,
for a moment.

The burden of a secret
at 4 am,
like a ten minute dream
six feet underwater.

And from our window,
900 million years later,
the last seconds of light
conjure storms
at the end of time
where secrets are told.

001 i am a whirlwind of
bruised knees
(purple)

an aching heart
(dark blue)

twisted guts
(red)

&
a regret that could
crumble mountains.
(green-green-green)

SandcastlesI want to know your hands like I want your hands to know the wrecked coastline of my body, knotted kelp hair and driftwood spine, shell pink skin and sea glass eyes. Your hands are made for building sandcastles from leftovers; I have all the materials you’ll ever need if you’ll just make me beautiful.

one day, i sent a letter to the mooni got sick of our tired old earth
and asked if i could join
the man in the moon
on an afternoon for coffee;

he preferred tea.

MatineeCredits rolling;
an empty movie theater.
Arrived too early.

My spine is a ribbon unraveledYou asked me to write your eulogy,
but there’s three sides to every story
and it is not enough to write.

There is no more music in me:
You bound our spines,
vertebral curvatures
stitched together
where I end and you begin,
but maybe you never belonged to me.

On creating lifelike charactersYou died. But I will
keep writing your story until
you begin to live

again.

Hands don't have to hurt, you know.There have been hands
in my bed at night again,

only I let them in
this time.

confessionalthey say sad girls change their hair color
and forgive their monsters.

i change my morals
and become one.

ProofingHe needed her sighs
when he kneaded her shoulders,
soft heat leavening.

The Pied Piper of Zolpidem.I've got a hole in my
middle where I've torn at my own
insecurities, looking
for a way out of this skin.

I feel like I'm splitting
down the middle and tearing at
the seams, like I'm too small
to keep the nightmares
at bay (away, away).

And my blood's whistling
a tune I've heard too many times
before, the pied piper
of zolpidem twisting through
my veins.

Headlights on the hillside,
don't leave me this way.

fast-forward through the goodbyesthis is the beginning of the end
“i know you,” he says.
and he looks defeated, he looks sad, he looks like
he's a boy who may one day realize how much
he cares for you, so you cut him off and say,
“minus all the secrets i don’t tell anyone.”
“well, yeah, minus those.”
“then you don’t know me at all.”

and then you tell him,
i love you. but you don’t use those words
because those are taboo. are jinxed.
are knock on wood three times fast.
instead you press him in a hug and say,
i’m sorry, knowing he won’t understand
that this is the first time you ever cared for some

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What We're Here ForLawrence Bradley was grading papers when the door knocked. It was muted by the heavy wood of the door, or perhaps the person on the other side simply wasn't knocking hard enough, but there all the same.

"Just a minute," he called. Finishing the last of the comments on the current paper, he capped his pen and went to get the door. He was surprised to find Autumn on the other side, textbooks in one hand and a small wicker basket in the other.

"What can I do for you today, Miss Fanshaw?" She was looking far better now than the emotional wreck of last night. She gave him a smile.

"Nothing today, Professor."

He nodded at the basket. "What's th

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had a golden waterfall of hair
and tawny eyes that glowed like lanterns
on the cusp of a quiet evening.
The wind rustled through pine needles
and dangling windchimes
in delicious counterpoint
to her honey-drip song and
vanilla-smooth voice
that went down like crushed velvet and feather dust,
uplifted away from my grasping fingers.

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storm clouds roll in on ashy winds
that slide through dull iron gates,
opening with a gaping creak like the sigh of moth wings.
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ScaffoldingHe knew she liked the English lounge; it was quiet and she was rarely bothered by any other visitors. Students usually went to the library when they needed a quiet place to work and the professors tended to keep to their offices. The hunch proved him right – he found her staring a hole in the wall from her position on the old couch seating area. She had folded her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms over them with her chin resting on top. Her eyes flicked over to the doorway when he entered, but promptly moved back to staring at nothing as a barely audible sigh escaped her lips. He gently nudged the door mostly closed and walked o

The LibraryThey had crossed paths that afternoon, she as she entered the library and he as he was on the way out. The sight of him brought one of the many problems straight to the forefront of her mind.

"Professor Bradley!"

He had already noticed her, but waved a hand in acknowledgement as they drew near each other and paused next to one of the low shelves showcasing the new releases.

"How's it going?" He looked like he was in a good mood. Not that Autumn had ever seen him in a bad one, but he seemed to be happy about something. She drew a breath.

"Ah, rather hectic actually. In fact, I was hoping I could ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"On the paper,

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beaut(if)ul

by =SilverInkblot, Feb 4, 2013, 6:42:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

_{You exist in the
space where beautiful is a
question unanswered.}

beaut(if)ulby =SilverInkblot

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

©2013 =SilverInkblot

#Glory-Be-Project Day 35 and #NaHaiWriMo Day 4

I hate the titles can't have quotation marks. Otherwise, I probably would have titled it The "if" in beautiful. Which title do you like more?

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Mood: Love

~word-s-myth Feb 14, 2013

It's very well done and so intriguing!

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=SilverInkblot Feb 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

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*Hfeather53 Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

faved because... omg that title and then the poem *flails* so perfect... i like "if" better too... but the parenthesis work fine~

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=SilverInkblot Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you

I've gotten kinda attached to this title

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*Hfeather53 Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

it's fabulous either way! you did such a wonderful job...

Reply

=Christianonfire7 Feb 12, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I used this title for my found poem
[link]

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=SilverInkblot Feb 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

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~Lacewinged-Beauty Feb 10, 2013 Writer

^{I didn't like this overly much on the first read but now I love it - the current title, too}

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=SilverInkblot Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you

I think it's my favorite haiku that I've ever written.

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~Lacewinged-Beauty Feb 10, 2013 Writer

^{It is most lovely, you have reason to be proud}

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