Dtergent
Bluelight Crew
I put together some of the old poems I wrote from the Words archive (mods, I hope you don't mind). I don't even have "real" copies of them, so searching them out got me pretty nostalgic, remembering the context I wrote them in. :D
Maybe some of the others who've been round for awhile can dig up their posts from the past decade to see some common themes or the evolution of their selves.
Others are welcome to post their old poems in this thread..
_____
October 22 2008
Sirena
Do you know what a sirena is?
(Shouts the sailor on a motorbike, the wind skims their ears like a giant gust inside a giant seashell)
She sings the sailors in.
They get dizzy
with dreams.
On the motorbike the girl sings.
The wind eats her voice up.
***
Do you know how to read without looking?
Palm in palm.
Lids over eyes.
Walk.
Stop.
Breathe.
***
The goodbye is simple:
The sailor grows the flowers around the temple too.
(The lily pads remind him of rafts)
After he explains the consequence of flowers,
The girl, she sings.
With no wind now, the song climbs up the banyan tree
And drapes itself upon the branches.
It comes down to their feet.
(The words are understood like you understand colors.)
In a siamese wanting to forget and remember,
Together they sing for a gust
To take her away.
_____
October 25 2005
Surrender
The iron rods from the ladder cleft my feet and
White paint flecks my reddened palms.
...
The hustle and hum of the world below
Become a drone when I see
A tiny brown sparrow land
On a single blade of grass.
And they swing
Like a jack-in-the-box
In the wind.
_____
July 24 2005
The Time of the Decade for Fresh Paint.
As I scrape
The dried plum paint
(Red from outside)
From the emblem
of the vintage car
The ridges
Slowly show
Trans
Lucent
With powdered scab
At their feet
The rhythm of habit,
Like praying the
Rosary
You close your eyes and never
Open to be
Jolted
By too many beads left, or
Ridges like the
Pages of a
Bible
Purple, beside
Clear and unearthed
Makes me panic.
_____
March 10 2002
Rain
your voice.
it taps
on flesh
and tingles
nerves,
much like
how a
single
drop's
enough
to draw
out
clouds
of hot
breath
beating
howls
of
widowed
wind.
steam
smoke
water
dancing
in the
rhythm
of the
fading
light.
fading
light
fading
somewhere
i must
have
missed
to ask
your
name.
words
like yours
remind me
much
of
mama’s
hot
breath
beating
howls
of
widowed
wind.
fading
light
fading,
dancing to
the howls
of
widowed
wind
fading,
light
dancing.
_____
March 3 2002
Love
love goes bad too easily.
it is not that sweet wine that you claim it to be, but curdled milk left unsuckled by a dead infant.
perhaps i should learn how it is to die faster.
perhaps i should learn how to be the one to walk from my ghosts.
but ghosts fade too fast, they always leave me watching them go.
love is not wine, not even poison intoxicating enough for me to drink.
love is spoilt milk, peircing acid scarring the walls of my nose.
but i drank it anyway.
perhaps i should learn how not to be so stupid.
Maybe some of the others who've been round for awhile can dig up their posts from the past decade to see some common themes or the evolution of their selves.
Others are welcome to post their old poems in this thread.._____
October 22 2008
Sirena
Do you know what a sirena is?
(Shouts the sailor on a motorbike, the wind skims their ears like a giant gust inside a giant seashell)
She sings the sailors in.
They get dizzy
with dreams.
On the motorbike the girl sings.
The wind eats her voice up.
***
Do you know how to read without looking?
Palm in palm.
Lids over eyes.
Walk.
Stop.
Breathe.
***
The goodbye is simple:
The sailor grows the flowers around the temple too.
(The lily pads remind him of rafts)
After he explains the consequence of flowers,
The girl, she sings.
With no wind now, the song climbs up the banyan tree
And drapes itself upon the branches.
It comes down to their feet.
(The words are understood like you understand colors.)
In a siamese wanting to forget and remember,
Together they sing for a gust
To take her away.
_____
October 25 2005
Surrender
The iron rods from the ladder cleft my feet and
White paint flecks my reddened palms.
...
The hustle and hum of the world below
Become a drone when I see
A tiny brown sparrow land
On a single blade of grass.
And they swing
Like a jack-in-the-box
In the wind.
_____
July 24 2005
The Time of the Decade for Fresh Paint.
As I scrape
The dried plum paint
(Red from outside)
From the emblem
of the vintage car
The ridges
Slowly show
Trans
Lucent
With powdered scab
At their feet
The rhythm of habit,
Like praying the
Rosary
You close your eyes and never
Open to be
Jolted
By too many beads left, or
Ridges like the
Pages of a
Bible
Purple, beside
Clear and unearthed
Makes me panic.
_____
March 10 2002
Rain
your voice.
it taps
on flesh
and tingles
nerves,
much like
how a
single
drop's
enough
to draw
out
clouds
of hot
breath
beating
howls
of
widowed
wind.
steam
smoke
water
dancing
in the
rhythm
of the
fading
light.
fading
light
fading
somewhere
i must
have
missed
to ask
your
name.
words
like yours
remind me
much
of
mama’s
hot
breath
beating
howls
of
widowed
wind.
fading
light
fading,
dancing to
the howls
of
widowed
wind
fading,
light
dancing.
_____
March 3 2002
Love
love goes bad too easily.
it is not that sweet wine that you claim it to be, but curdled milk left unsuckled by a dead infant.
perhaps i should learn how it is to die faster.
perhaps i should learn how to be the one to walk from my ghosts.
but ghosts fade too fast, they always leave me watching them go.
love is not wine, not even poison intoxicating enough for me to drink.
love is spoilt milk, peircing acid scarring the walls of my nose.
but i drank it anyway.
perhaps i should learn how not to be so stupid.
Last edited by a moderator:
Will post later...Good stuff Dtergent and Lost n Found 
