[x]

Haiku IIIwhite cherry blossoms
melt on frosted window panes -
harbinger of Spring

the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.
sweetheart, let's head out. let's
drink up the desert asphalt and that last bottle
of johnny walker blue--
one last toast to the copper sunsets,
to the good earth. a pair of
tailgate stargazers, you and i:
roaming curves across the glove compartment map, until
every foldline is worn flannel-soft
and it'd rather stay open
than closed.
let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget
the numbers
and pick up terra cotta dust--
breathe in the mojave. let's pretend
that the world's already ended
and it's just us.
let's leave the door unlocked
and go
west.

Dandelion's Lamentthe warm spring wind
gives me life
no one desires to defend;

they call me Weed,
stomping me down
to the level of Crabgrass
and Poison Oak,

although I harm none
with my meager
existence.

I can grant your wishes
as your cold breath
sends shivers down my
stem; I can

thrive on the dream-fields
of children, who still
call me Flower.

a lover's observations.when you asked me to define love,
i answered with this.

love is
i. a collection of sighs
strung together
by remembered dreams
and rapid heartbeats

ii. fingertips on knuckles
and the hugging of thumbs

iii. making silverware
on the mattress
in the company of the stars

iv. exchanging dialogue
with our mouths shut
and our eyes open

v. cheekbones and crow's feet

vi. turning every what if
into a reality
when i asked you to describe love,
you took the answer from my mouth
with your lips.

My Mouth, a GraveyardI buried my words
under my tongue
& turned my teeth
into tombstones.

Here lies hello,
too shy to be uttered,
just left to wither
while my fingers tapped out
its letters,

& here lies goodbye,
so scared of being alone,
it left the roads between
me and we empty.

Love died the day my
heart started beating,
when it pumped out
too much sense &
not enough courage.

Sorry was found murdered,
its meaning stolen,
the day it would have been
relevant.

I smothered help with my claims
that I didn’t need it,
then I forgot how to breathe
& no one could see it.

My mouth became a cemetery,
& I chewed on petals
to keep the smell away,
but no matter

ForwordI have not become stronger
in the broken places.

Bones ache of age
of misuse
of disuse
and each cracking joint
is an audible reminder
of missteps
of misjudgments
of paths walked too long
and of steps
that should have been,
but were never taken.

Bent fingers jut
from palms of sandpaper,
calloused and crinkled,
they cannot grip
with that same eager desperation
of a child seeking comfort.

Black becomes gray
at the gates
of troubled temples and
dreams,
once saliently sweet,
decay on the tongue
like the sound
of necessary words produced,
but never employed.

I have not become stronger in the broken places

Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
gossamer wings;

faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
slips away.

Wildflowers, Imperfect BirdsI breathed your name like wildflowers under vast broken skies, in wide-open spaces. The wind blowing through them spoke of dew and dirt and petrichor, and there was sunlight on the ground like a mosaic patterned by god's own hands.

I said it like a monarch claiming new land: a declaration, a butterfly breath over old earth; like it was coffee on a warm morning with the sun in my eyes, interlacing with my lashes; like it was a dream; like it was a prayer like it was a miracle wrought of air and bone and body: you, in, out, in, out, in and in and in.

I cried it out like an earthquake between lip and lip, continents that don't quite fit: your

Of Lost Causethey say every lonely sigh gathered from children in that city
pours through her body and redolent skin, read through
the ink of vines on veins and restless, small leaves- torn with
tired hands and god's lost smile.

they say our days are numbered, like the
creases between your skin and the break of waves on starving oceans. maybe
the fallout of a country drawn by prophets with cracked chords and
an endless list of listlessness.

they say happiness is glorified by the example of science: the reaction given
and reduction taken in a stretch of paradoxical lies of paradoxical truths-
sounds of simplified silence and their tenuous strains

scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn blue
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,

like an ocean without waves).

she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
between breaths

we barely even exist.

UnsatisfiedHere I lie -
One vulnerable ear
to the marble silk of galaxies.

Even though
Your figure is an act
of miracle meteors
raining on the soft,
shocked retina,

the valleys
between your eyes and mouth
a dazzling constellation,

Your lullaby voice
a play of centered orbits
carved around me,

Even though the slow breath of you
is the many pulsing
gases, bright beyond
the fire of any human glint,

I am, firstly,
a sacred satellite
for the cosmic murmurs
of something grander.

GreyI like the color grey;
it's not black and it's not white,
but sometimes it's a little blue.

into the sea belowa lock on a door, in a place well-known
the withered-windy-whisper wood, whickered-flickered candlelight
soft illuminations and hints of dazzling-decked, twin-leafed
cardinal vascular canvas.

a musical blend of blue and grey.

--

the lock on a door, in a place well-worn
beneath the melancholy-painted, cerulean-white cliffs
and the tri-pigment, undertone-hued sky
never can meet with its widow-burned key.

singular musical drops unwittingly fly
only to fragment and fall
into the sea below.

Love Poem for a Man Who Doesn't Get PoetryI buy milk as if it is the
most important
thing I have ever done; come home and
lay the bag on the floor
at your feet.

The meaning is lost
on you, a man

who is a snap of clean linen;
no, you prefer strait-line
talk, full-throttle motion.

Not wavering semaphore.

I feel silly with my quiet twist of metaphor,
Darling, Buttercup, My Angry Little Arsonist,
saying your name is the breath between
the waves, your heart
the hungry mouth of the bay.

There is a curve between the me and the you
We waited too long, hoping the pause
would not last forever, but just in case,
we hold hands in the dark.

I had forgotten how to give

rising from the riverit's one of the drowned days; those that drag
like hooks through a river,
turning dead things
belly-up on your shores. listen.

i am listening. to name it lover,
this ripening ache stretched
between us; to know
what it is you carry. you
are a deep silence gardened
by ghosts; hanging
from the hinges of a sprawled
elsewhere. (they are here
still, pacing the long brim
of your memory around
to the long brim of mine.)

i too have been drowning.
if not by one stone,
then another. the autumn quiet
of the body
in bed. this language named skin,
beast, temple, home. underwater,
you open your mouth; amniotic
void of unspeaking, horiz

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ad-libyatracer fire are our shooting stars.
in lines, following
like insects, ants.

fireworks,
watch them, sparkling
through the sky.
their lights, spark the fuse,
sizzling and hissing down the wire,
explosions,
smoke is our cloud,
eject.
we shoot the bullets,
like heroin through our veins,
addicted.
no end in sight til we reach the high
we miss.

lie on the hills, on the sand,
and watch the fireworks.
make a wish on the anti-aircraft fire.

modern day masterpiece++Everything was a masterpiece.

The rose petals lined the bed sheets.
The wine stained into your dress.
The needle spun the melody.
The sun exploded through the curtains.
The lampshade hung from the desk.
The towels dampened the stone floor.

Your hair smelt like lavender,
and smoke.
The days had been hollow, leading
themselves upto time
with you.
Weeks, months,
time was a valuable foe, but a friend,
time, the most valuable thing a being can spend.
But those empty hours were gone now,
because,
you were here, with me.
In my arms.

I saw you tiptoe with a new bout of class,
with the eyes that they gave me that were carved out of

pacific eyes.Pacific eyes,
Tsunamis in my skies.
Coral reefs swaying, moving
To the pulse of the abyss.
Aquatic seasons end too soon.

The fish and the sharks
Swim without sound.
And the mesmerized lifeguards
Have already drowned.

The deep shades of blue,
dancing, crossing paths
into the current.
Northern undersea lights
make the sea bed glow like a blanket of light.

Pacific eyes,
where the deepest of oceans collide,
breaking boundaries,
injecting salt water into my veins.
To swim through me, into
my heart.

Take me to a land that holds no lie.
Take me to a place where the rain doesn't cry.
Take me to a world where the weak can fly.
T

ice cold winter++The leaves stroke palms with each other,
and sway,
in the gentle arctic breeze, dancing
to nature's rhythm.
The sun, redundant,
but still gleaming through the glass clouds, triumph,
crashing through the frost,
splitting and saving the serenity,
boasting it's beauty over continents.
Snowflakes falling, winter debris,
settling on the surface, to sleep and,
to not awake until the first bouts of Spring.
Spring, spring,
when the snow will melt,
and the fog will fade,
and the ice and the cold will both hide away.
Until winter comes again,
to crack the October mild,
and freeze us,
like statues in the sun.
But until next winter,

snowflake++i sat outside last night, and watched the snow pour from the orange sky. every flake falling, melting, into my shallow skin. snowdrops floating like mist. every flake was like a memory falling from a vivid imagination of how life used to be, before all of this.

in a flake,
i see a smile. i see a couple.
when we were together, everything was
perfect. stood in the snow,
lips collide like galaxies, far away.
through seasons and reasons,
staying strong.
every smile we shared and every time our eyes met,
still resonates around my skull,
a carousel of doubt still etched in my mind.
even today,
i can't look at you the same way.
knowing

'you look like a carrot'.What can I say about you, my friend?

Maybe I could speak about your hair, being so bright it could bring the room to it's shaking knees.

Maybe I could speak about how impeccable your grammar was, and how you wouldn't say something unless it would have an impact on someone's heart.

Maybe I could speak about your sense of humour, and how it could brighten a day with just a flick of it's sparkling limb.

Maybe I could speak about your fashion sense, which made you stand a mile out of the crowd, catching the attention of passersby everywhere.

Maybe I could speak about all those days that you, me, Jakey and Luke spent in McDonalds, quoting the

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Atlantis

by ~aaronbyrnepoetry, Sep 24, 2012, 11:00:25 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Our ships float close under sunlit skies,
hovering above Atlantis.
We claimed the ocean miles as our own,
an underwater district which we would call home.

Drown.
Suffocate with Neptune,
as heavens burst through violet haze.
Your gaze,
splits the nebula, infinite space,
and explosions in a faraway place.

And when the sun should close its eyes,
you'll sail afar.
To climb electric vines,
and lay in the arms of the storm.

Atlantisby ~aaronbyrnepoetry

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Oceanic

=Sammur-amat Dec 7, 2012 General Artist

This is quite gorgeous! Congratulations on the DLD!

*xlntwtch Dec 5, 2012 Writer

on the DLD "Pick of the Day." This is good work. Thank you.

=DailyLitDeviations Dec 4, 2012

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations and has been selected as our "Pick of the Day". It is featured in a news article here: [link] and on our main page.

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.

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Atlantisby ~aaronbyrnepoetry

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