Archive for the ‘Love and Romance’ Category

Fatal Oblivion

 

A morning

remembered only

for its damask entry

a velvet touch

along hemlined

quasi-dream.

 

This leisure waking state

nebulous of prism-light

golden-stillness enfolding

a noncommittal fog

of half-twilight, sinking.

 

Shadows flit then tease

broken, seeking form

from invisible placenta-thought

retinas thrust inside blindness

external visions impaired,

neatly aborted ~

fatal oblivion.

 

Memory, snow blanketed

with intermittent waves

of fire and cold

tug from quiescent core

weeping through

fabrics of mortal reluctance.

 

It’s at this moment

we are most vulnerable

abandoned even in love.

Your arms wrapped snugly

around me feel a distant

world away.

 

As you kiss the air between us,

all realism asunder,

bent in the coil of an

arctic caress,

my lips acknowledge

a measure of unspeakable hunger,

the first light rays

of unintended emptiness.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

There you would have me

Bone silent

Seed of your love

A heart tapered

For fitting

Its delicacy wrapped

Between ivory incisors

Can we compromise

Or I am to be hushed

Like one of your slaves

Your eyes devouring

My many gowns

You have dreams of dismembering

Them layer by layer

As you hold gemstones and

Persian silk above my

Idle perusal

Thinking that’s sure to

Persuade me to feel

Something that was

Never there nor ever

Will be.

 

You think that

Would make the difference?

Like shown a landmark onColumbus’

Map, this is the spot to die for

But I look forlornly away

Outside that window ledge

Where you left your rival

(The real man I loved)

Dead and still hung in the courtyard

While I still smell his lingering blood

Stowed in this prisoned room

You’ve stolen everything

But it’s you left with

All you cannot have nor

Ever will; everything and everyone

That never wanted you.

 

You haul me away to

Meet other fates that

Even Darkness will

Live long enough to fear;

I pass by your white stallion, Apollo ~ ~

The wild of his eyes catch mine

Something for us both is tamed there,

Because it too, was forced to

Choose, and it wasn’t you it

Chose.

 

So we both ride into a vicious storm

We’ll never regret.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

NO CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE

Nothing will ever compare

To that tremor,

That fragile, dripping quiver

Reluctantly from

Your shadowy lip,

Burning, for now,

Our goodbyes

Oh Darling!

The fragments of my weeping

Soul as I stood there,

Numb as sunlight

Caught trapped in the pulled

Shades, struggling despite

Incredible odds

To remain strong, steadfast,

And bright.

So I fall into you limp, a

Ragdoll, pleading,

Begging you,

Please don’t

Go.

“It’s only for a few days…”

The sweet breath

Of your whisper speaks

Into disheveled strands

Of my blonde hair.

The door~

That cursed door

Between us now,

Your suitcase and attaché

In either hand.

I hear the engine

Roar.  That last roar…

Tulips in snow have

Nothing on me.

Their wintry surprise at

Least will thaw.

I stand here frozen now,

A mummy, no

Place to

Go.

Oh Darling!

And then that fatal call,

Telling me you’ll never come home….

The

Horrible accident.

Oh Darling!

 

I still hear your

Words now,

“It’s only for a few days…”

…….And then days turn into a lifetime.

No one ever told me

Waiting for Eternity would

Be so slow…

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

LOVE’S DEATH

 

The wick of our passion

Has finally died out

I try to resuscitate the embers

But its fire refuses to re-ignite

 

And I stare blandly into the lonely

Thick of night, wondering if

Your eyes also strain to find me

Despite the burning smoke and mist

 

Or is it solely I

Scrambling for one last match

To rekindle this blind, cold world

 

Who squeezes me to its hollow breast

With breaking sound barrier silence

~ alas to its fatal, indifferent,

And suffocating embrace

 

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

 

WISH I’D BEEN BETTER IN MATH

Wish I’d been better in math
but Geometry refused to love me.
And I got constantly lost in
hypothetical equations and
numerical values.
But I knew of days never constant,
their finite moments failing in an
imperfect world.

Had I studied harder fractal patterns,
would my sorrows have been less
algebraic, my joys more in tune
with calculus? What percentage
of assurety would I have today?

I know only that the sun doesn’t set
in Pi; and Stone Man lived never
touching resolution nor its
objective pyramidal properties.
His world existed non-circumference.
Would nonlinear have made me beautiful,
perhaps a smile more of absolute;
or maybe integrals would have gained
me riches beyond fractional trig.

All I know is I was never good
in Math, but enough to know,
enough to regret,
the intolerable years
it would take to get over
one-millionth of you
from Absolute Zero.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

 

TWO SOLDIERS

 

Cornered bedlam

Does even hope’s sharp-edged shrapnel

sleep its dusty milestones away

Much less live here anymore

Beside those beautiful yet fallen stars

The ones that burn down battles

In our Heart

Of want and tears

 

Scope of pierce

Outrage of silent scream

Crippled memory to faltering aorta

Spilled like nuggets of hardened courage

 

Are we all to blame for the gold that is lost

In each of us exists the lava of molten dreams

Cursed for the sword of reckoning it bleeds

Stabbing through sinew and bone

 

I hear you across channels of ancient mist

No avalanche can freeze such driven lust

No tundra’s stillness can out-vast

Your lips devoid of stolen kiss

 

Only the less of me, now dismantled,

Dying distant from your fumbling arms

And so afraid that even eternity is not

 

Near long enough to bury what is

Left of us both in the same space

That ate our fragile glory into the abyss.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

LOST EMBRACE

 

What inches

but this memory forth,

slow as lingerings left unfinished

or the lips of a frozen song

the crawl space of your sweet embraceGraphic by Susan Joyner-Stumpf

torn in a cobweb

while a spider screams

am I tethered only to its loss

shattered now, a prism buried

in an ancient sarcophagus

ruins someday to be unearthed

another millennia of

forgetableness away

who knew now of its tenderness, then,

mummified as any stone-cold artifact

of myrrh and golden-rod

lost poem of the Great Masters

last taste of hemlock, bitterroot

eyes forced open to witness

even dust’s unfolding demise.

 

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf