The Tardis (The Doctor’s Wife)
entrappedthoughts-deactivated20 asked: Thanks for the follow!
I think your writing is brilliant
Thanks! I love your haikus, especially Billowing curtains/Veil the war outside, but what/Of the one in here?
I long for days of being held, by velvet textured hands
That have forgotten, for once,
Notions of hiding under cloaks of white-wondered
Softly puttering thoughts being
Rubbed into creation,
When your shoulder blade has not
Been sharpened and bites my
Gnawing teeth; and I will ignore
The devious drawings you tattooed onto my brain.
Wistful eyes woefully watched
Me in the shades of snow,
Listening with one ear to my mouth, and the other
To crazed thoughts.
Still yet as spring fervor aproached
The furrows in your frown
And the brambles of what you wanted stayed.
I hugged myself and said, in
the sweltering exhaustion
“I’ll be alright without you.”
But as the heat of July swept us away,
Plans remain unswept.
While the moonlit rain
Strangles the earth—
remember all I wanted
Was the nothingness of a damp
Dew-stricken dry crinkly flower;
Facade of perfection; exhausted beauty—
Please remember in your feathered anger,
I did it to show you.
True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Powdery flour dusts the air,
In an upheaval of confusion,
As I push the soft, flexible
Dough that bends to my hands—
Push, fold, turn—
Sticky dough collecting on
Fingertips, never letting
Tangy crunchy thin red skin
Falls off the apple in my mouth as my teeth
Accidentally scrape the bruised brown pieces,
Biting the big chunks that break easily off the core.
Dully sweet flavor brushes my taste buds and as
Freshness clears my thoughts of stress and guilt,
I begin to think how much I miss the ease of being young.
I’m making a sort of poetry challenge (well, not a challenge, but a task) for myself this week: write a descriptive poem (of an object, or mini experience) every day for the next week.