[x]

zenith and nadirdestabilized, so i cradle them in my arms as
if they were ever worth (wanting, in need of)
saving.

one,
zenith holds a point too high
to be considered
a direction, (s)he is airy and
light and naive
and kisses me in my sleep.
laughter shrill &
unsettling the way a
raven seems beautiful
til
it turns out to be a
crow. it beckons forward
with
nimble arching
hands and it falls
up. tresses of gold
seem promising
and manic,
all at once.

two, nadir, grounded
in a way that seems dangerous.
body below sneers as a jester in the court
bittersweet as (s)he drips with
shisha & black tea leaves. downers
have never been easy to let go of and they

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

paper hearther heart was neatly folded,
tucked away between the shelves
of her ribcage.

a heart made of red & blue lines,
holes on the sides.

unfolded, there are secrets
kept & unread.

one day her heart fell.
slipped from the shelf
& opened to only see;

scribbles of songbirds & trees.

the man on the moon.he smiles at the moon like he knows her.
he's been smiling for a thousand years.
admiring her from afar.

so one day he flew to her.

but the man on the moon couldn't stay long.
and when he left she fell apart
and bled until she was
red.

she can't stop pretending that he didn't break her heart
because her gravity slowly pushes the ocean waves out to reach him.

but the moon is a stranger to him.

with thanks to salingerAudio version.
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
and smiles
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear

inadequateyou can try to preserve people
in stories, in books, in poetry,
in formaldehyde,
but it will not make them breathe
again. it will not make them the person they were
or those things they did;
it will not sound right
and it will not seem right,
because
it isn't right. you miss
the details or at least the right ones:
people are not made of hearts and lungs and limbs
they are ankles and hands and tongues and eyelashes
they are fire and fury and friction and fear.
i cannot say that i miss you the way you want me to.
i can't. just can't.
and that is the difference between you and me:
you say what you think you're supposed to and i,
well,
i don't say much at all.

embeddeda sunset blister[pops] overhead, dripping
security. she kisses her lover and leaves
with splinters in lips. there are moments
when she swears she can hear a breath
rattling somewhere within his
reciprocating chest
she swears in vain

and sometimes it's like they recycled
an old day, it fits the same and that
is an alarming halt to progression-
she says, we have to move on

but she doesn't ever leave, feet buried
under years of promises and plans and
anxieties. she's had a bird cage by her bed
since she was a little girl (begging wounded
blue jays to escape)

the day won't break, he watches
her sleep uneasily, respiring
like

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)

fragment 37less like a body
more like a corkboard

on the fifth or fourth dragmy neighbors, who are old,
quiet, and work at
a furniture store somewhere
in the city, have cut down
their hedges, and opened their
blinds: now they can see
the tears in my window
screen, the cobwebs
on the bushes, the way
the light above the garage door
flickers, and the smoke
that spins freely from my hands
when the world goes quiet for
once
and we can all be
a little more honest,
with ourselves

fragment 34there is something about writing
like using someone else's
last line
to start your own

pipedreamsfeeling anything for you
is like trying to grow a garden
in a half-emptied bottle
of cheap tequila,
it's only a good idea
because the rest is what fills
your stomach and stains
your liver and disorients your sticky
thoughts, honeydew heroin
of an idea

stomachedyou blush and bruise
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs

and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)

if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
or divine

fragment 22i have
so many reasons to run
and,
by the second,
a dwindling list
of reasons to
stay:

funny when some
one
can be both

dollarstore happy.this happiness feels fragile, like if i hold it too long it will break,
the way some things just do.
a dollarstore happy,
easy,
but temporary.

i like the weight of it on my skin though.
the way the fragile skin over my wrists has healed into soft tapeworms.
the way the sky seems bluer even when its grey.

i can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.
my heart lives on the tip of my tongue where i keep swallowing it down
in the hope that someday it might stay down,
and i will be able to forget.

i will learn to forget the pulse in my wrists
and unlearn the butterflies that live under my ribcage.
i will call my heart the sea and sail it
instead

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dream of starslittle moon boots on her feet
she's ready to try
anticipating for the night
ready to say goodbye

dream of stars little one
for someday you'll fly
the stars gleam bright
into your big, blue eyes

Peteroh play pretend, Peter, & never have a seconded thought
though all the lost boys have grown & moved on
& the fairies there all gone, no one believes anymore
i once believed i'd never grow old, with you Peter
but that was only for a moment, just a moment ago

Johnny BoyJohnny Boy don't make me cry
don't say, we have to say goodbye
don't pretend to know what's best
you said sailor always leave there hearts behind
& take the hearts they love with them
so take mine

somewherei looked but the wardrobe was bare, i'm in despair
& that old police box wasn't there like it was before
where's that rabbit with the watch when ya need him
cause i need to be somewhere else right now

contrysidehe lives in the countryside
down an old country lane
were everybody knows your name

landlockedi'm landlocked to your heart
never to sail again

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Submitted: January 16
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castaway

by ~silver-ships-fly, Jan 16, 2013, 8:58:58 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

it's long gone

that i carry on

from the wreckage.

there's no end to the ocean's hunger.

sky & sea,

i can't tell the difference.

i'm only floating along

waiting for a shore line.

i brace myself for waves to come.

my mind's full of sea urchins

swimming in my head.

nothing seems to matter

when you're a castaway

sailing on forever.

i'm high on sea salt & self chatter.

castawayby ~silver-ships-fly

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Critique by ~Michel-le-fou Jan 17, 2013, 8:43:05 PM

I wish to start that I may need to be a more universal critic, but it won't mean negative outlook so much. First of all the atmosphere of floating on wreckage was well-created. The language used was very appropriate, and the lines on a mind filled with sea urchins was amusing. I will add that although I realize that a castaway's thoughts may be so short, like the breath, I still prefer more detail to enhance the atmosphere. That is the brunt of any negativity. A long narrative like Rime of the Ancient Mariner is due.Otherwise it was good work?

What do you think?

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~violetense Feb 20, 2013 Student Writer

Love the metaphors here.

~silver-ships-fly Feb 20, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

ty <3

*prettyflour Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Hey there,

Prettyflour here on behalf of with the critique you requested. Sorry for the delay, we have so many poems to critique and are getting to each deviation as quickly as we can!

I am loving this. You had me hooked at the first stanza. This line: there's no end to the ocean's hunger. captivated me.

And the last line was brilliant. I like your use of alliteration- it made it flow nicely and gave the ending a little something special that made me smile.

Overall, I think this is original and unique with high points for both emotional and visual impact. I really have no constructive criticism to offer- I like it just the way it is!

Thank you and have a great day!

~silver-ships-fly Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

thank you so much, it means so much to me!
am just glad you DO the critiques.

i don't mind that it takes some time.

& i'm glad you liked it!

i like it just the way it is too.

*prettyflour Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

!TheLunarDragon Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This Critique in on behalf of

I really enjoyed this piece. Using the ocean as a metaphor was extremely clever I think, and I personally found the second stanza as my favorite. "sky and sea, I can't tell the difference" I loved that line. I cannot find much here to critique, this is original, well written, great choice of words and use of metaphors. Well done.

~silver-ships-fly Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

thank you! it means a lot. <3

~tiajones Jan 25, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

i really like this piece.
i like the shortness of it, it's heavy but brief.
all in all, very lovely.

there are some really beautiful lines,

"there's no end to the ocean's hunger."

"sky & sea,
i can't tell the difference.
i'm only floating along
waiting for a shore line."

and

"i'm high on sea salt & self chatter. "

well done. <3

~silver-ships-fly Jan 25, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

awww, thank you!

those where the lines i had thought of
before i pieced it all together. C:

~tiajones Jan 25, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

haha- neat!
and of course!

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castawayby ~silver-ships-fly

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