Imperfection

It is
Of course
Important
No
Imperative
To remember that we are all
Imperfect
We are
Fractured
…Frail
… …Faulty
… … …Fearful
Fragile little things
Glass eggs in a world of iron hands
Soft tongues
Navigating angry teeth
Chapped lips
Holding back words
Both gentle
And cruel
We are, all of us, imperfect moments
Hoping for perfect results
And lives made of uncomfortable compromise
Hoping for uncompromised comforts
With hands stained in yesterday’s tears
And eyes blurred by next year’s sandstorm
Living in that
Ephemeral
…Ethereal
… …Evanescent
… … …Ever-fading dream
Of some distant sun
From last year’s distant summer
Where
If only for a moment
Perfect lived
And breathed
And placed its hand upon our heart
And said
If only once
“Imperfection
Is only our breath
Held in screaming lungs
Waiting for us to
Let go
And remember
That we all take
Perfect breaths
However imperfectly”


Okay…so here’s another free-verse because of reasons A and C from the previous list of reasons that I didn’t give you. I’m going back to rhyming after this one…

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Memories

We sift through sand at times
Fingers looking for grains that either won’t slip
Or else
For grains that we need to see fall away
But days from now
…Weeks from now
… …Years from now
On days where we look back at beaches where we feared to swim
And talk of days we never dared to dream
We remember moons on cloudy nights
And suns when storms are at their worst
We see the sharpened edges dull
And the imperfect moments honed
Until they are so sharp
The only thing they can do is cut
So much nostalgia
…Rose-colored glasses
Memories of lipstick where lips never lived
And words never breathed
But memory is like that
We hold on to the things we want to keep
And we let the other things fall away
So what we’re left with is an
Imperfect r
ecollection
Of imperfect events
Like putting a pretty frame
Around a lonely picture
With burnt edges
Hiding the places that hurt
Saving the ones that didn’t
Keeping the grains
And forsaking the hourglass
Looking so lovingly at those hazy mirrors
For the reflections that never really were
And hoping to see them again
Because that’s what memories are
The hoping for yesterday
In a world filled with nothing but tomorrows


I don’t normally do free-verse. If you follow me, you know this. Anywho…here’s a free-verse poem because…reasons…¬†

Ania

There I saw her dancing once
As soft, and calm as autumn dust
My angel in this world of ashes raining from an empty sky

Listening to distant rain
Like songs that never sound the same
As those she heard before when she could smile and her eyes were dry

There she was, with folded wings
Her words and heart a coiled spring
Where joy was like a cigarette, and life a flame, and hope a sigh

There I saw her, looking down
Her tears, they never made a sound
Where rain was all around her, and my arms could never keep her dry

Wondering how I can see
A dance where surely none could be
An answer where she sees forever what? and who? and how? and why?

There she is, as if the moon
Her darkest day is bright as noon
For I, who saw her dancing once, with folded wings, and tears within her eyes

Riddle

I’m not the best, and not the worst
My answers calm, and well-rehearsed
I’m not the last, and not the first
I guess that puts me somewhere in the middle

I’m not the most and not the least
My visage calm but slightly creased
I’m not a famine or a feast
I guess I’m not too much or else too little

I’m not the bottom or the top
My path, like rain, was meant to drop
I’m not essential or a prop
I guess, compared to some, I’m second fiddle

I’m not the cause and not the cure
My words a gift from lips impure
I’m not untroubled or unsure
I guess I’m not the answer or the riddle

Tome

Take my book of shadows page by page
Numbers on the bottom corner signify the age
A world of cursive letters
Set like links in iron fetters
Left like footprints in the dust of this now long forgotten stage

Set them in the unremembered sun
Where the shoulders colder grow and “shall we?” turns to shun
A home of insulation
And accepted consolation
Where tomorrow is a song that still repeats what we have done

Take my tome of light and see it close
Where embers dance like fairies in a world that no one knows
A world of would’ve, could’ve
Played on instruments of should’ve
Far behind this tattered curtain where it never fully shows

Set it in the pyre, if you will
Let it set for seven years upon your windowsill
Where light can eat the wording
Of the good and leave the hurting
For the tome we fill with shadows is the one that we can never really kill

Blossoms

There blossoms in her depth a fury
Chaos tethered by the reins of such a yearning soul
That sets her sun with such a hurry
There like shifting stars within a fire that she struggles to control

There, her veil of raven tresses
Hanging as the eve, or as a fog that meets the sun
That turns a stoic world to guesses
And the tourniquet upon my lips and heart to finally come undone

There blossoms in her eyes a wonder
Something gentle hiding neath her armor always worn
That like a wave, would pull me under
Leaving me benighted, on a knee, her name a vow I’ve gladly sworn

There, beyond the stretching miles
Hidden, yet revealed, like an eclipse in summer skies
It pulls, like gravity, her wiles
Like a set of strings so when she beckons, how could I refuse to rise?

There blossoms in her face a beauty
Nyx upon the earth, beset with oceans in her eyes
And calling, like a desert, ever to me
My lips an errant pilgrim set to pray within the temple of her sighs

Solitary

The ones who love me number few
There’s less than six, but more than two
I’m hard to love, this much is true
And those who still endure me, well, I don’t know why they do

In moments rare, and moons of blue
The number grows with someone new
And less than six, it hints a view
Of greater than, but, nevermind, three others just withdrew

There’s some who stay, or just pursue
There’s some who care and muscle through
There’s some who try to find a clue
Of who I am, and why, and parse my words and shifting hue

But then, I love so very few
And say I don’t to ones I do
I hide the words in “her” and “you”
And say the words in secret so you never have to say you love me too