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In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So
Thy lips are warmOf all the words that mouth at love
and soften it with tongue and tooth
None will ever justify this breakage.
Never will there be diction enough
To make a heart salve, or tears unwept.

There will never be a word of woe
That suits to the shape of the thing.
Though many mouths may speak
of love and all her many expressions
airs, graces and confabulations.

None will correlate the meaning truly
how I loved for him, and he not for me.
MatterIt is only a matter of time
until the stone lays down with the sheep
and sleeps.
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.

It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
and sleep
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.

It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
and sleepily
the world will forget
where our words used to be.
HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo
Undying LoveShe screams, pain holding her, hands holding her hair and pulling tight, each strand reins to her conscious will. The drugs running through her system become a geas, an imposition stemming from the necessity in her soul.

The tetter barked and shouted it's way down her arms, her misery congealing in her wrists and at her throat, forming a lump that pressed down weightily on her trachea until clawing a breath in was more effort than she had energy for. She choked on a sob and the angular bite of the sound released some of the tension. She fell.

The beige, tiled floor rose to greet her decrepit, falling form. Undone, as if a string on her soul
Perfect on PaperWe cut hearts
into paper to make streams
                         of love.
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
      off
    the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
                          pretty.
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
                         or loved.

             ~♥~♥~
ParchmentI speared you with a         black-ink pen.
I tried to balance           the weight
of our weare-worn         shoulders.
Tried to counter         it with beauty
and hopefulness        , with my hopes,
persistence &         with my dark love.
They came to        see it in hundreds,
Droves, of         similarly seeking
hope and         a reason to continue.
Reasons         to love, even when it
hurts.         Reasons to try when the
vast         weight of differences 'tween
us         can't be fixed by adding
a         single strike of strength
        through the middle. Our love
      wasn't strong enough for poetry
     to save. It crum
BuriedUnder the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.
Never The Gold.I want my silver back,
I need to melt it down and forge a new connection
With someone else.
I want all the precious bits of myself
that I so willingly quarried for you.
I want my silver back.
A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.
3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.
My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.
I bite and tug and huff out my misery
As the silence keeps me awake.
I lay with pressure of your absence
Pressing down over my nose and mouth.
A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.
It is a hot grey night in London.

You are awake, startled by the sunlight.
7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.
The day sirens, but you stay, settled,
Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,
Only the silence keeps you awake.
Unknowingly, for the first time in weeks
We are unintentionally in sync;
Laid
In The StarsIn the stab of the night,
when there is no moon
or modern light to guide you -
there will be stars.

They will burn themselves out
with the vehemence with which
they shine for you.
They will desperately radiate
their message to you
across lightyears of dead air,
they are full with it.

They are children
holding their breath
until you beg them to stop.

They are waiting for you
to be ready to hear them.

In the ache of the night,
when there are no whispers
or echoes to guide you -
there will be stars;

and those stars will be couriers
baring these words to you
emblazoned with their royal seal.
They will be eternally pressed
BathAn untidy circle of golden peaks
with shimmering gems tumbling down
that thrum through with shafts of sun.
How welcomed I feel when I see
the emerald shrug draped about
your fine matriarchal shoulders
reaching out to draw me close.
The sapphiric glint in your eye,
you invite me in and give me shelter.
All through your house you're present
every corner shines antique brass
and the small blemishes I see
only endear you to me further.
Settled on your asparagus bedding,
with the sweep of ruralesque tones
down the front of your stately dress,
Austen's own, I desire you.
I want to steal you.
Pluck you from your landlocked throne
and throw you hard
40810If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
 If only you were soulless.
 If you were mindless, blind,
 You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!

Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.

They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.

When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.
Mother EarthMy body is the earth;
See how under this bruise
A seed of malcontent sleeps.
See what grows out of each pore
As the pain pours over again.
There is rust in my fingerbeds
That poisons the roots
Of all good that hopes to grow here.
I am the convulsing, revolution
of the convoluted Earth...
I am the tectonic blades that clash
and shout when I curl up and hide.
You will feel me when I tremble,
and fear me when I explode
for under the magmanimous skin
There burns a core of hate
That can't be marred by human hand.
Browse More Like This
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More from `KathrynODriscoll

What makes me stay - Draft One /What makes me stay

Guilt and fear.
The basis of a religion.

Guilt, to my parents,
Who have already lost a child.

And fear, of the pain,
Of the pre-silence.

Having enough morality
To fear, and feel guilty,
Does not make me any less insane.

Any less desperate for death.

It just means..
Once upon a time
In a world far far away
Some one took me to church.
And at the time, I believed.
Time To Shine - Draft One /Time To Shine

A symphony in monochrome,
The black and white logic of the world ebbs into our romance.
It was a black day when our hearts met,
You in white, me in pain.
Colour trailed through everything...

Three dozen roses.
Black smoke flushed the skies in a tailspin,
As the chaos of February smashed into the hospital car park.
British racing green.
We settled afterwards into baby blue and a perfect pink.

Flame red head, the little mermaid,
As we settled into our chaotic life of green, gold and grey...
Roses are red, violets are blue.
We swum through translucent days of vermilion
And stayed in love and stayed in tact.

Gold
The Winter Woman - Draft One /Winter dresses nature in beauty,
A fine swaddling of furs and velvets
In the form of sparkling frosts
and sweetly smothering snows.

Clipping diamonds to her earlobes,
She dresses for the Christmas party,
The hard glittering glamour
Of She, the most beautiful of seasons.

Winter dresses nature in its best,
Signs each window with her signature
In crackled spindly hand writings
and goes out into the night, to dance.
The Wedding - Draft One /With this knife
I thee wed
With dark letters
To silent dead

With these lips
A poisoned kiss
All bad things
Come down to this

With these tears
I surrender
And giving up
Is what will end her

With this knife
I me, bled
With dark dreams
Of being dead

With these words
I am breaking
And hoping not to wake up
Aching

With these thoughts
I am cursed
Overwhelmed
and emmersed

With this ring
I thee wed
A ring of rope
Over my head

With this goodbye
That cant console
I commit to you
And pray for my soul.
The Wrong Turn - Draft One /The Wrong Turn

Eyes met and not un met
Mine were for only you in an instant.
Hearts touched and bruised
You left your marks on me.

Scars examined, reopened,
Bled dry and healed,
Flushed out ghosts of the past,
A melody in crimson.

Hands held in hands,
Thoughts held in hearts.
An air of protection that follows,
Those no longer alone.

Kisses now traces,
The tongue runs over.
Erasing, rewinding,
The paths we fell down.

From languid and luxury,
To broken and invisible,
Theres a hole in my heart
Shaped just like us.

What was once held preciously,
Is now thrown to shatter.
From the warmth of your arms
To pieces on the floor.
The Sun Has Died - Draft One /And the world cries crimson tears
From their wrists and from their hearts
As the anguish of knowledge
Tortures the lost souls who remain.

Tears that are just fragments of our memories
Fractions of our feelings
They are mere symbols of our grief
And they flood the weeping globe.

A mournful sorrowful world
With no light left to comfort it
The sun snuffed out for its last good night
And left nothing but the darkness.

And no weak words from mortal tongues
Can describe the deathly silence
As hand in hand in rows to the gallows
We face our own deaths with hope.

For the world is a bleak dark place without you
You who gave light to t

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The White Things

:iconkathrynodriscoll:

Nothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
Just some thoughts.

New word time:
Immalleable not malleable!
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:iconathazagoraphobias:
~Athazagoraphobias Mar 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I think this is why time travel is such a popular fantasy. We all want to go back to relive one experience or another, to fix something, to see something, to do something different. :)
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013  Student Writer
Nods. Definately.
Reply
:iconsherbetblooms:
~sherbetblooms Feb 27, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
The past can certainly haunt! Sometimes it's easier to simply let go...we need to press on, yes! :hug:
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 28, 2013  Student Writer
Interesting!
Reply
:iconvalkvick:
~valkvick Feb 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
So true.
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 26, 2013  Student Writer
:> Thank you!
Reply
:iconzevais:
~Zevais Feb 24, 2013  Hobbyist
Everything is too close a minute from now.
I swim as hard as I can against the current,
its as if I'm standing in place, can't escape it.

It's too easy to rage in the darkness of my thoughts
that claw and tear down at all my walls
that I build as I stand in this black muck.

Its too easy to rage when the time I have left
could be as close as sixty long secongs from now.
Malleable, I'm bending, yielding to the black.
Reply
:iconkonjuku:
~Konjuku Feb 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Reminds me of a song by Incubus, 11.am.

It goes "The bedsheets cover the heat of choices I've made."

&, about your poem;

What I get is... the pain of pain's passing, not quite grasping time or what you do in it. Loved it.
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 24, 2013  Student Writer
:) Thank you! For me it was about missing the past.
Reply
:iconnaganeboshni:
~Naganeboshni Feb 23, 2013  Student Artisan Crafter
time is the essence =D
Reply
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