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Strictly Poetry

Butterfly on Display

pine for that touch-
arms that ache
and long to stretch.
gaze lingering on
simple movements,
the chaste beckon and
its casual glance-
a soothingly tart
thrust through
the heart. . .
with the stroke of freedom
at hand-
a great longing
is sufficed.

---

D is for Dreaming

Intense, dark pools,
hypnotic are your eyes;
hold me again please,
whether in truth or lies.
I love you, I don't,
can't make up my mind-
confused and lonely without you,
comfort in your arms, I find.
You turn, and once again I'm caught
and tangled in your web it seems-
I've waited for you to say
something only said in dreams--

love me please.

---

Sliver's Shiver

Silver spun thread spins longing,
each draping sliver soon brought
into a tight hold by its spinner.

'Stroke that strand there, breed
its tears into silent captivity,' I hear
the words of the One who keeps me.

I am a delicate thread of many,
apart of the tapestry the One bound
always him to me and me to her.

The One watches me without sympathy.
'You chose your own path, now live-'
He leaves me with him, him with her.

He is the strength of the thread,
always with her, she is his wisdom;
always with me, I am his black death.

Tightly drawn, I ache for release,
along his fingers taunt and waiting,
I split at the ends of another reality.

Silver spun thread spins longing,
each draping sliver soon brought
into a tight hold by its spinner.


Edited: LBlossom on 28th Oct, 2004 - 12:55pm

Poetry Strictly

I like the spider theme throughout the poem(s). I couldnt figure out if these were 3 poems or 1. Did you write this yourself LBlossom? If so, you have quite a gift. If you didnt, you may want to site who did.

Strictly Poetry UFO & Writing Art Education Sciences

I wrote them ^_^. They are three different poems(separated by the "-----" ), I love writing! Here's some more.

Bogey Man

I've been beaten,
I've been torn,
I've been reduced
to the size of a
price tag sticker
on a bag of
needles.

I contain and restrain
to my soul's content,
my heart's desire.
I live luxuriously
in the
slums and ghettos
of this mind's fabrication.
I choose not to
tolerate you.

The clock strikes one
in the afternoon-
I sit in the
festering knowledge
of your betrayal.

I have come to the
obvious conclusion
of my hatred for you.
It is you who
has the voice
I cannot stand-
my greatest loathing and
deepest fear.

You are my bogey man.

-----

Idee Fixe

If he were here,
What would I say-
What would I do?
Would I be able to tell him
How much I can't let
Him go?
My insides bleed
And I can't breathe
With my heart
Stopping up the flow
From my mouth
To his.

I can't breathe.

I can't let go.