So quieted Even my soul can’t fathom The sound of music So I dance to the songs of the earth [Her daughter]
Category: Poetry
immolation [a poem]
Immolation from the inside; out – The searing of bridges aflame yet can’t be burned Indestructible bonds White hot brandings Against the interior of ribs Breathe (deep): into the water dive – wait it out on the ebb and flow of the universe’s directives time will cool what destiny forged.
you called for me (a micropoem)
I awoke snuggled into your mind, Clutching your brain close under me, My pillow. Let me stroke ease into your heart, Kiss your third eye, And straddle your [root] chakra To bring you back into the heavens Of our personal dimension. Skin to skin, Soul in soul, I’m here to hold. . . . ….
kesmet (an excerpt)
It is an epic. It is unfinished. So there is this… Inevitably, my name will be spoken On the undercurrent of every love line, and Every syllable of speech unspoken of things on the mind, Echoes from his heart. We collided, smashing this dimension Into a million sparkling pieces And rebuilt, me within him, him…
I wrote it in a dream state
From some weeks ago… I bathed my mind in moscato While you massaged me in delicate honey tones Pouring soulfully from your horn’s resonating gape In exchange for hello, you gave me poetry And for my mind, your heart Followed at last by my trust for yours, physically bonded Don’t let the brothers get it…
the hypocrite stage
I can’t say I’m a fan of spiteful writing, yet we are all entitled to a moment of passive aggression and I’ve lately seen too much not to want to just “put it out there.” So, after some days of debate and in lieu of something more personal and abstract to the audience at large…
love is a grassroots tactic [a poetic]
(Edited throwback) Ra, ra, ra, I was sent for love. Let’s start a movement, Spread love like roots Revitalizing the yard of our Mother’s planted intentions, weeded over by the hate and put downs Of the downtrodden, Trampled by colonial boots that Forced a garden cut with bloodsoaked stones and hemmed by abnormal picket fence,…
[autoimmune]
You look And I feel my skin crackle just beneath the surface I’m aflame from the inside Mind providing the kindling I’m losing sense of — You look at me And the chubby china doll face splits open But no sound comes out Save the snapping of heat filling my ears On fire from the…
what the moon wrote [a poetic]
You drag your feet assuredly forward Stiff back and peeping eyes casually checking corners For view of another set of eyes. Constant audience you crave, New prey to your ideas, So you welcome the world to the foot of your door (though they aren’t enough) And hold them at arms length that you may relish…
(They ask me how is my husband) [a micropoem]
Wrapped up in a type of permanence No alloy band or stamped certificate Could ever every convey, We made camp in one another But, accidentally, called it “home.”
Throwback [poem] for back to school
As I rediscover my talents and rebellion against completing tasks I feel carry little meaning, I reflect on the work I’m about to reenter and what it means. Education and teaching (and learning) in all its forms have always meant a very great deal to me, but the meaning is more than an abstract belief…
until the next time [a poem]
my love like wine made us drunk. stumbling over skipped heart beats and broken guards we carried each other over the threshold of fear squinting unconsciously against the blinding vulnerability of lovers that let go of yesterday and tomorrow crashing into one another like turning 21 ignoring the consequences like foresight was a made-up curfew…
Sharkey Speaks 