Lips (day 183)

Flapping the wheels go round and round
Waving the children; move right along
Lips they motion the absence of time
Lips they motion the absence of time

Wrap me in cashmere, watch it unwind
Peel it back slowly, wasting our time
Lips they crawl: searching, imploring
Lips they crawl: searching, imploring

Never mind what’s in the rhyme
Focus the grind on movement inside
Lips in the dark make movement less cautious
Lips in the dark make movement less cautious

Only today will bring us happiness
Forget tomorrow, I’ll follow you there
Lips remind me I’ve got no more searching
Lips remind me I’ve got no more searching

These Dreams (day 176)

I want to run my hands
Along the coast of your heart
Down the ridge of your back
Along the peaks of your curves

I want to create these memories
Like sun baked carvings in the sand
Washed away with time
It was about the game rest assured

I want to traverse these cliffs
With the gravity of your kiss
Propelled with your hands
Gently urging me forth

I want to lounge in these valleys
Where the grass does grow deep
I want to lounge in these valleys
I want to sing with these trees

The Good Things (day 175)

The heart of gold
The bubbles in a champagne flute
The dots on the i’s
The fragrance in the flower
The sun behind the clouds
The laughter from a child
The rainbow in the rain
The pride in a win
The clean sheets after laundry day
The A+ on the report card
The warm soup on a cold day
The tears in Casablanca
The full roll of toilet paper
The sunlight on the sea
The twinkle in the eye
The smell of sea salt on the wind
The clean pair of undies
The dollar down the couch
The full fridge of food
The last piece of chocolate
The window seat
The final keystroke
The cookies in the oven
The secret admirer
The phone call from mom
The belch after a fine meal
The slow song with a dance partner
The look from across the room
The old noir film, with Audrey Hepburn of course
the pressed flower, forgotten in a book
The fall leaves, brilliantly shining
The secretly witnessed kiss
The friend at the front of the line

~ This poem is a collection of the conversation my dear friend @thelongsilence of twitter and I had, discussing the illustrious @tjpou, who you can gather each of our feelings towards in this dialogue. For the record, I started it with “The heart of gold”, and we alternated from there.

Lost in the Cycle (day 174)

Abuse me, like a well worn sweater
Worn down from the gravity of time
Warmed over from a cold wind
Fall leaves, slowly spinning
Downward, with the passage of time
Upwards with the momentum of life
Through, within, alive, growth

We live in blissed blasphemy
Secretly kissing the angels
Of the memories we once longed for
To late, time doesn’t wait
Downward, downward, downward they fall
Screaming for glory, one last moment
Alive, grasping, dead, cycle

Out of The Cold (day 167)

Abound with joy she zipped up her pants
Wrapped the scarf one more time around
Before she braved the cold wall facing her

She stepped out the door into the brisk air
Cooly calm after the night whirled in her head
Like a heart worn, still spinning top

Anticipation in waiting, like the empty bowl
Full of surprises but still quite unready to expose
The vampires call now, late in the night

The steps jump faster, as joints stiffen against the cold
The bus .does. .not. .ever. come quick enough
Fucking transit, mumbled under her breath

As a lady, she smiles, ignoring the smirks
As a temptress she squirms, applauding the smiles
Alone she hurries, out of the cold

Gloves (day 163)

Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of

of

Many fancy shirts
Wrapped in designer skirts
Tie, around your neck
Dizzy lips swap

to

Remain the last breath
Spotted around the corner
Suffering endlessly
Alone, without gloves company

Of Squirrels and a Lover (day 156)

Decadent ritual of un-fretted glory
Somersaults and candles and baskets with lunches
Bubble baths and grass and glasses of wine
Seize the day, give not to thine fear

Wallowing in glory with squirrels and a lover
Smelling the air of lightly scented allure
Pretending to care the feathers aren’t ruffled
Knowing better than the vultures circling

The game is your own
The bat is a slugger
The ball isn’t greased
And the pitcher’s on change-up

Lay low, dear lover
Lay high, dear moon
Stay long dear lover
Stay bright, dear moon