Yours,

Yeah, the comma after the end of the title isn’t a mistake. 

Tried to make this one a variation of the Petrarchian sonnet.


Laced with heart’s wild and warm-blooded

Hymns of praise and pure,

Stray thoughts spurt like a fountain top,

And all its sweetly pleasures do they rain.

You’re warmer than blood,

Closer than flesh,

I wish to the Aether each day afresh

That your revelation was not in vain.

*

Every spirit of the living air,

Every mirage holds a light

To your ghostly countenance

And breathes life into me anew.

It shimmies down my veins

Into yearnful elations

As I utter you my finest proclamations:

“Can I keep you?”

Projection

art blurred background bright color
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Searching and

coming close to

breath-point. Then

slipping away

each time and

realizing that

it’s not you but

myself…and

the infinite

opportunities that

come my way.

Magnum Opus

silhouette photography of woman with shoulder length hair
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

Cartoonish caricatures of fishies are

floundering in my periphery

while my clone lies sprawled under

scrutinizing starlights.

She’s writhing,

pining.

O my love,

what did I just do to you

in those milliseconds, grains of

an existential high

infecting the air?

I’d nurse you

Like a mother and her squalling child.

But I’ll send another

in my midst,

nary knowing that

the one who watches over you

like God and his Book of Life

is me.

Haikus, Set 1

close up photography of cherry blossom tree
Photo by Bagus Pangestu on Pexels.com

Screw me once, you laugh;

Screw me twice, I laugh and then

Slit you in my mind.

*

Love is multi-faced

But I can’t find the best words;

Everyone took them.

*

“Are you here?” I asked.

Neighbors thought I was stretching

As I reached to you.


My goodness. I remember when I stored countless haikus on my old phone.

My old phone. 

I only found three on my new phone, ever since my old phone got thrown away.

Breathe Me Alive

affection american asian woman beautiful
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

One glimpse

and I want to

stroke your face

up and out,

round and about,

like the masseur at the spa.

Cup your face against my palm

and I’ll trace your veins as they

lead to your heart —

but maybe I’ll contend with

ticking you on the underarms

instead.

*

Is it wrong that I want to

entwine my body around yours

till you’re close

close

close

to my core,

to the soul hidden beneath my soul

and our pulses beat as one

and I can just maybe,

perhaps…

breathe you in?

*

Please cradle me

so I can snuggle my ear to your chest

and hear an lively ocean

surging inside,

and I’ll know you’re real

when I fall asleep

and all my realities become a dream

as your body beside me fills my lungs

with your scent.

Remember butterfly kisses? The ones where

we’re so close our eyelashes

are touching?

They’re now goldfish nips

because now I’ll cover your face

with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

*

Maybe one night

under the covenant of

a balmy evening

I’ll introduce you to the star-struck sky

because it’s always watching.

I’ll kiss your nose

so that my blessing will extend

down to the tips of your toes.

And while your breath is still fresh on mine

I’ll trace your lips

so that with mine, I’ll imprint onto you

my fiercest declaration:

you belong to me,

and I

to you.

 

To Mr. Cheerio Diddly-Dee

 

Well, dude – you’re a sap!

You think you’re cute, cuddly and so nice –

Really? You, a lucki-o diddli-doo ol’ chap?

You said, “I love you” – ya should’ve known the price!

Oh yeah, I’ve had my share of guys, too,

Beats me why they’ve got to be so callous;

Now my priorities are confused – what to do?

I mean, it’s not like a girl has a phallus!

***

Look, I understand the friendzone,

I know how it must feel;

But even you yourself said you’re good-for-nothing prone

And you have the kisser of a moray eel!

Your diddli-dee life is plastered online, I see –

Am I – obsessing? Or is it a spiteful bluff?

Well, no, I hate you because your imperfections embody me!

And is one “me” really not enough?

The Abyss

side view photo of woman
Photo by Yasin Gündogdu on Pexels.com

Rummaging through my Poetry course portfolio to churn something out before the end of this month, be like…


There’s a deep dark place

in the corner of my mind

evolved,

shaped,

fed by the despair that

my love is not real –

not the love I thought it was.

And when I remember,

oh, remember –

that sweetly snide face

of Nevermore.

I fall down,

down,

into

masochistic

crying

rituals,

solemnity,

and tears

and where the walls

of self-doubt close upon me every night

because I’m not worthy.

I’m not owed a drop

of response and

reciprocation.

Soul-pangs

are an insufferable bitch.


Should I retrieve my poems from my latest Poetry course from this summer, before they disappear? I jotted them down so quickly to make time for other classes, yet the poems truest to my heart have been the most introspective.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

The Numbing

silhouette photo of man and woman kissing
Photo by Hoang Loc on Pexels.com

The numb love

gushes through my veins,

grasps the arms

in a death grip and

extends into the elbow and

through the shoulders,

surpassing the naked blade

in a delicious furor and

entwines itself

around the sinews of my heart.

I am brimming with you.

One climatic squeeze of my centerpiece

and…!


Might revise later. 

Lavender Poodle

First, some news. I am taking a Poetry course at my college, and the prompt was to write about an ordinary object that transformed in some way. And is has to be free verse. Now knowing me (and all my poems on here so far), I don’t write free verse very often because it’s not my favorite poetry style to write in. But so much contemporary American poetry is free verse. Crazy! I much prefer rhyming scenes, but okay then. So I wrote Lavender Poodle based on the prompt.

Second: I’ve written my first guest post! I found lifesfinewine when she liked one of my posts. She writes inspirational quotes, issues on psychological health and positivity, and promotes guest bloggers. So I offered to write a guest post. And guess what? It seems that some people really seem to like it… ;). Check it out here!

*****

She was the the color of her scent

when Mom popped her in for introductions;

she was stuffed full of lavender fragrances

when she crowned my bedside that night;

and one whiff takes me take to Zen zone

intro a headspace I long…forgot.

Crying,

weeping,

sullen,

pining,

I spilled all

the night I cradled my poodle

as though I cradled my long-lost love…

I breathed in the scent

and I forgot all

because I just…

fell…

asleep…

I lost my little poodle one day

I know not where,

all I have is

her heart —

her bean-bag, lavender heart

filled with my love and pain,

and it still pulses

with lavender residue

when I microwave it

and cradle it

like I cradle a long-lost love.