Posts Tagged ‘love poem’

Fatal Oblivion


A morning

remembered only

for its damask entry

a velvet touch

along hemlined



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



So we both ride into a vicious storm

We’ll never regret.



© Susan Joyner-Stumpf



Two years it took in the making to down grade

Where else that soup of metaphor

And caustic pride

Over worn in the stark beak of night

Its bite cold and without regret

I could get by on iron alone

But vintage lace calls me

To a more sophisticated time

So I’m lost between eras

Invisible to stars

As I stumble to reach the mainland

Like a Dolphin I leap high

As though to escape extinction

Aren’t I worth saving, saving

The voice of the Sparrow told me so

And I love you so much it hurts

Antarcticaclimbing my backbone

I’m all about forgiveness

As long as its more genuine in miles

Than shorter on deceitful inches

What makes your face so sad

The smile I could make love to

If you weren’t always so far away

I forget about mirrors

I want the life inside of there

More than I do out here

As I waste away to a sun flare

That regards me as a Dinosaur

In the evolution of intangible things

Hungry for their own off spring



Can dreams be so cruel as to

Lead us to drought instead of

The flood of all for which we strive

At the cost of wounded ambition

Crippled in the war to fight there ~

For everything ~


So as not to be nothing, nothing

When time ends and we are the golden ticket

That failed to touch the talisman of victory

That hung by a thread and out of reach

Until we waved like flags, burning, turning,

Its own stigmata across our Souls

Do we answer as far-seeking each question,

Tumbling, tumbling

On frozen tongue


Is your kiss such a whiplash that I

Long for its searing pain

How I would die a thousand deaths and

Never whimper loud enough into space

For you to hear that I cannot live without

You though I felt as though I already have

Bleed the blood of my tears

Suck the vampire of my astral pools

This voice sings out of wedlock

Spin eternity inside out

And then you shall be dowsed with

Revelation that I was as much

The breath of you as was the alpha

Pulse of dying, screaming,

Planet Earth


© Susan Joyner-Stumpf






Graphic Art by Susan Joyner-Stumpf (© SonnetWolf Designz)


Simple slight of hoof

Beats hard the dust

And carves through

Space with invisible wing

His manner of weeping

To keep me in longing

Parade of brilliance

Fine Ivory horse

Of silken unbridled power

You corral intangible wind

As though your mighty

Royal seed

Nostrils drink of stolen rain

Frightening storms your children

I ache beneath the thunder

Of them that rage beyond

My grasp ~ I sit

Here fused to stone

Tears made of blown glass

Shorn of secrets

The millennia has whispered

With galloping lust

Outside the deafened

Aura of our bloodsouls

Oh ~ cursed are we for

Once to be a mere Human!!!


© Susan Joyner-Stumpf


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




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



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


I come reckoning to you

caught between thaw and snowdrift

an illusion if you want me to be

a reality you cannot face nor wanted to

a broken dream once long ago you

tried to fix before accepting that to

love me, was to love the

shattered parts



Did the prisms of my wounds

blind you with their trailing brilliance?

Could even darkness from

 my silence deafen

you enough

 to close




Can we mend this distance

quick enough

to conceive our



I come aching for you.

The pain is worth every step.

I hope for nothing

 but to die

in your arms as the

 only woman

you ever loved


 never to



Was I the thunder that struck

your desert heart?

 I surrender

to you, but not

 as any


thing seeking


I am the strength of your

weakened core.



bombing the

 atoms of



of love.  Now it’s time again

to watch, like magic,

 how the


always fall

around us,

as if even


knew of

 no other





© Susan Joyner-Stumpf