Something In Between my Matresses feels like a Word

14th September, '09

WORD JEMS by Jessica Fox-Wilson- This week Jessica scattered some fine word jems around for us to play with. It was fun trying to use as many of them as possible to create poetry. I started off with blanking out, but eventually, put together what came to my mind's eye. So here goes; some disparate images, truths and sniggers of life- inspired by words.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red ripe succulent plum
crushed between your rice-grain teeth

Sleep,
lifting my lids and strolling
into my midnight musings

Whisking white cotton tail,
and paws and ears and some spots,
disappear into the green-ness of clover

The death of a pop star,
limelight gone sour

To conform and yet to condemn
to spit in the mud you roll in.

Bumbling within the bars of a self-scripted cell,
coke powdered wrists, opium drenched nerves,
drowning in the foggy ecstasy of nothingness
a pittance of an offering to the deity of life.

A multitude of words,
heaped up,
like sugar on a tablespoon.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Please feel free to comment on the ideas as well as the form of the poem/poems. Thanks.

Rain Rush

7th September, '09

The whoosh of the rain,
slowing down,
to a pitter-patter;
A tap-dancer on an asbestos roof;

Rustling old notebook sheets,
torn, folded,
engineered into hasty creations;

Rubber chappals on wet, washed earth,
the crunchiness of wet mud,
laughter bubbling at the seams of my soul;

Sucking in the smell of freshly-soaked mud;
The skies have just unburdened themselves.
The whiff of their countless secrets.

Excitement floating through the air,
mingled with the rain and laughter;
Three fine visitors on a boring afternoon;

Sunlight streaming through peepholes in the rain,
specks of gold and grey and nothingness;

Boats bobbing on rain-water rivulets,
drawing imaginary boundaries of joy,
floating images of serenity on water.

A Fine Night For Dying, Again

7th September, '09

A fine night for dying,
again.

Spinning in speckled spools of time,
a blur, a flash, a searing flame,
closer closer closer closer,
until the cobwebs all melt away.
Drops of memory,
spilling onto the ground,
a bottomless pool of pain,
the soundless screech of loss.

Feet bumbling towards forgotten places,
arms all awry in a corpse-like gait;
the walk towards that cold dark spot begins,
again.
In the corner of my sightless eyes,
a vision explodes into life.
A creature mirthful and young,
drinking from the waters of the forests of old,
flying with the eagles of the forever skies,
seeping into my pores, filling me with the new.

The tree people come visiting my door again.
a lights shines into the cold, wet cave.
A fine night for dying, again,
a fine night for soaring the skies.

Ablaze

28th August, '09

My breath is warm,
warming me,
from the cold gaze of survival;
Each day, a fire I'm walking through,
each applause, an ode to my life.

Underneath a starry sky,
behind a wall of fireworks,
I become the lone edifice,
I become the burnt deity,
revered for my burning skin,
loved for my teary eyes.

My nerves they slowly turn to steel,
hardened by the fires of time,
breathing a breath of lifelessness,
burning in flames of approval,
I become the fire of a million souls,
to burn and be burnt with joy,
until this night turns to dawn.

Take-off

26th August, '09

Splash-splash
wings dripping
with droplets of sun,
feet like lead
a weary heart
whither do you seek to fly?

Flap-flap
warm sunlight
wind and feathers
dancing a ballet of their own
a triumphant soul
why do you seek to rest?

The Omen

31st July, '09

A winding- binding path this,
A bouncy feather in the gale,
Nothing astir or running amiss,
no breadcrumbs on this trail.

Shooting stars lie in watery pools,
An image of fire gone sour,
Butterflies turning into toadstools,
there's unrest near and far.

The window opens, a match is struck,
frightened faces on a wind-swept night,
was it destined or is it just luck,
two screech-owls get into a fight.

A whirlpool of trouble, a storm of pain,
swirling, forcing its way within,
the wind and the scent before a rain,
and the forest throbbing to a muted din.

Suddenly with a clap, the wind falls flat,
the clouds break open in a mighty roar,
swish-swash come the drops so fat,
and it rains and rains like never before.

The earth is full, the skies are drenched,
swimming in their own wretched dreams,
And try as hard as you may wrench,
they don't give way at the seams.

A winding-binding path this,
a watery trail to nothingness,
an omen was cast, a moment conquered,
It's part of the trail, no more, no less.

Mirth

5th July, '09

I wish to laugh.
Light, twittering,
with my head thrown up in the air.
My laughter rising into the morning,
soaking up the sunbeams in its path,
and falling back into my life.

I wish to laugh,
Gay, chirpy,
like a child enjoying a mindless joke,
invisible to every mind but its own.

I wish to laugh,
Happy, satisfied,
like two lovers entwined in their love,
floating in their bubble,
of unconditional adoration.
With no tomorrows or yesterdays to be bothered with.