Amaranthine; a blog of original poetry

  You don’t need Vernier’s Pearl earing, Debussy’s flaxen hair, Or Lisa’s smile... You don’t need To get red cheeks After running a mile. All that’s needed is for the wind to blow And shake all those little strands Left out from the bundle... Fashion sense... Or the lack there of That makes you cute... I comment on it And then there’s a laugh; Like a hundred dragonflies On a sun-lit field, Like wine in a glass Listening to jazz, Trying to dance along in vain, Like the pheonix, Resting on ice Suddenly alighted, Making the snow orange warm And musical to look at...

  Joy is Sunlight through the leaves, A rose on the piano, A girl on the swing Going back and forth in the sunset, Simply laughing... Joy is Sunflowers shaking heads, Not allowing dragonflies to steal their seeds, But allowing us to steal their oil, Allowing themselves to be picked By girls to look pretty, By boys to sweeten themselves for the girls, For the new born to laugh at, And the old for their hygge... Joy is Sunlight through the leaves, A rose on the piano, A girl on the swing Going back and forth in the sunset, Simply laughing At herself Alone...

  I see the sun set amid the mountains; The earth catching a falling child in its arms... Then rocking it to sleep. The air falls quiet And the clock of life ticks Louder and louder, As if to reveal some looming mystery. The stream gargles at the rocks, And the rocks themselves glow as amber. I see the sun set amid the mountains; The earth catching a falling child in its arms... But that’s all we see. We do not know If the fall broke the child’s neck. We do not know If the child will cry again. But we panic not And have sound sleep, Hoping the child will knock at our doors tomorrow And call us out to play...

  We are candles kept close to each other; Flame touching flame, Melt touching melt.. Eventually sticking together Even though its painful To merge into one... Sticking together To share the same flame, So that if it goes out, It goes out for both of us. We are candles kept close to each other, Eventually embracing And kissing wildly. The wind will blow us out, And we’ll stay entangled forever. The wind won’t blow, And we’ll keep going down And down... Into the same slough Which becomes white After the soul leaves it... We are candles kept close to each other; Flame touching flame, Melt touching melt..

 It rains And the eyes on the manhole shine Like those of an infant Just born into all this, Not knowing that the very sunlight it smiles at Hides a quiet sadness; A sadness much overt In the neon lights, The rumbling mills , The very gutter the manhole belongs to. It rains And the eyes on the manhole shine, Always looking up... Not seeing the sadness, Hence not being sad. The rain calms And the air grows cold like a sad smile, A dripping knife, A scared child hiding behind a curtain. It rains And the eyes on the manhole shine...

  A blue feather under a rock; Soft, Fluttering, Tapping out To say it has had enough. A blue feather under a rock; Little hairs shivering in the wind Until they shrivel and break away Into many little feathers. Finally free! Finally free! The rock now an ugly hag Looking down From a background of black sky Made blue by lightning. The feather escapes And becomes many feathers... Finally free! Finally free! Broken into many... But having the company of many. Broken into many... But broken without pain...

 All life is Is a heart in the sand, Drawn beside the lip of the shore... Being washed away; The body taken, The soul still wandering... Letting one know The heart was once there... Maybe only for a moment, But it was there. The soul still wandering... Trying to block the waves From taking away every new heart that is drawn. But a soul’s a soul... And the waves come And the waves take And the waves don’t new hearts make. The shore yearns for lovers to come Again...

  There’s a mask on the grass; With red feathers And glowing golden lips. There’s a mask on the grass, But it won’t remain the same for long. Soon the grass towers around, And pink flowers grow out of the eyes. Rain taints the feathers And breaks them into red snippets Which will fly and fly away... And the soil rumbles like a hungry monster, Slowly bubbling up... First coming out Through the eyes, The nose, The crack on the cheek. The soil rumbles like a hungry monster, Devouring the mask. All that remains Are flowers, Butterflies, Dew... All that remains Is one last feather, Not weathered into many... Waiting for its time. For in nature,  Anything standing out Should eventually blend in...

 We had wine together And lost ourselves in each other's eyes; Sad shadows lingering in them To dull the light. We had wine together And lost ourselves in conversation About music, The rain, The weather, Just to find reasons to stay. We had wine together And we broke bread together. I corrected your hair, And rubbed away the lipstick that stood out; All excuses to touch you With naughty innocence That you enjoy. We had wine together And stayed looking at the pouring rain. Today I sit outside Watching the rain And wonder where you'd gone.

Life is holding a baby's hand and watching it smile, Life is letting butterflies sit on one's finger, And letting flowers bloom. Life is short, Wild, Now. Life is a kid sneezing at irritating dandelions, Life is a tickled baby, Laughing, Rolling over, Laughing again in its sleep, Dreaming of being tickled. Life gives and life takes. Life is the wick that burns on, And the chandelier that crashes down. Life is the stone standing still, And the boulder rolling downhill. Life gives and life takes even more. But we all go through it; This thorn, This flame, This swamp of molten iron. We all go through this And come out disabled, But alive enough To gather our broken parts And fix ourselves for the better.  

 The sound of knives rubbing together, A Jellyfish in the water Blinking in neon, A Shattering vase... I lie on my bed Eyes open and smiling... Falling into a cloud Where reality breaks apart. The sound of knives rubbing together, A Jellyfish in the water Blinking in neon, A Shattering vase With its pieces everywhere... Piercing the feet of those around me. This has happened more than once told them. Now They’ve stopped coming... And I still lie in my bed Smiling and unable to blink... Like I’m being restrained For some secret experiment. But there’s just me in the room Along with the sound of knives rubbing together, A Jellyfish in the water Blinking in neon, A Shattering vase...

  I see a bluebird on the empty branch Against the blue sky; Singing: Random, Yet somehow melodious... A Van Gogh painting; Perfect without a single shadow Cast by any of the objects... Perfect Because of clarity And clarity alone. Then the bird takes off And gets tangled within the mesh of branches... Trying to move, Getting punctured in the chest, And those little wings.. Those little wings... Dying Like a contorted spine, A Stabbed heart, A wrinkled hand Reaching out to touch a weeping cheek; A cheek now red.. Soon to turn white...

 You lock your heart up And turn its doors into walls; Walls that strangle it With every pulse it gives... Constricting it into a box, With its many tiny vessels Rupturing Until it flows down and down... Until the chest fills up; The heart floating on its own blood... Now dry and crumbled like a raisin. The heart floats on its own blood But is kept in place by its large vessels. But it continues to float... And the veins that keep it down break, Like a weak prisoner who has broken his chains After years of effort. The heart breaks free And keeps going up...