Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Thirst that could not be given any other name

A surprise even for saturated lichen

To make its move on wounded alders

That spoke less of fortitude

More of purity from casualty

Shedding leaves like bad habits

Only the possum knows its limits

How far hatred could slime it

A blot on the mind warp

Crimson tremors left shackled

Until even oil resurfaces

Like dreams yet to be forgiven

There is madness in the overtouch

A right saved only for virgin fuselage

Nearing the end of Nirvana

Do we seek shelter from sheer likeness

Of what golden stillness we used to be

Before inertia got bored of us

And left with our soulboots still singing

Oh ~ ~  the sweet sound of abused nectar

And yet we continue making love

To shadows who only whisper

Our ancient, forgotten demise

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

LOVE IN TWISTED MARROW

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

TWO PIECES WHOLE

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

even

more.

Did the prisms of my wounds

blind you with their trailing brilliance?

Could even darkness from

 my silence deafen

you enough

 to close

 your

eyes

forever?

Can we mend this distance

quick enough

to conceive our

double

vision?

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

 enough

 never to

live

without.

Was I the thunder that struck

your desert heart?

 I surrender

to you, but not

 as any

 helpless

thing seeking

 mortuary-pity.

I am the strength of your

weakened core.

 We’ve

finished

bombing the

 atoms of

our

 uncertainties

of love.  Now it’s time again

to watch, like magic,

 how the

pieces

always fall

around us,

as if even

anti-matter

knew of

 no other

existence

but

solidity.

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

 

GOD ON SPEED DIAL

 

God, I need you now,

can you visit

for just

a

while?

If I could, I’d fax

or email you

every day.

I’d put you

on speed

dial.

I would turn around

and you’d be

standing there,

and with your

ethereal

fingers,

you’d delete away

all broken

songs, paste

in its place

all

anew.

Oh I know my

prayers have been

many; maybe some

even

funny.

But something tells

me you never

laughed, that you

hear each one ~

and for all

those not yet

answered,

they’re in the

download

process of

being

done.

The dreams ~ the

many starry dreams

I’ve so longed for…

forgetting to enjoy

the one

I’m

in.

The one you gave

me unconditionally,

this immortal

gift of

life I already

live

in.

Are we in your browser,

Heavenly Father,

as you scan and

Google this expanse

of universe

and intangible

stars

for our faint

breaths infinitely

dear and

needing

you?

I hear your golden

Trumpet voice

splice the white noise

that hides in

the plasma

radio.

Will you ride in

on the beautiful

white stallion

Gabriel who

was my

first

horse?

God, I know that

each and everyone

of us is

in your

Favorites.

It is us

that accidently

step away,

erase your

divine

Profile.

It is YOU, O’Lord,

as the

Bible proclaims,

that restoreth

our lost

and wanton

Souls.

God, I need you

now, yesterday

is too

late.

Besides, I’ve lost

my phone and

all its

apps and contacts.

Thank goodness your

stigmatic-number

is imprinted

upon

my

forgiven

heart.

*•.¸♥♥¸.•*

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

BROWNING AFTER DEATH

Did you die with such dignity?

A love poem on your breath

Destroying your first book

At twelve because no publisher

Was to be found

Oh those sentiments lost

Floating like feathers in the

Wind, without their wings

You wrote songs, symphonies, plays

Anything that would make

The heart smile, or break

You, who hobnobbed with

Dickens, revered by Wordsworth,

Yet critics say you were

Was not considered a Great Poet

In your day

But those wretched echoes

Long since died

After Love Among the Ruins

 

And the love of your life,

Semi-invalid, Elizabeth,

Did your words so wholly

intermingle, soar as they would

and could, dance all night

till that great heart could take it no more?

Oh!  Robert Browning

What do they say now

As we study you,

As we ourselves fall so short

Beneath those trusty ruins

Tripping over the drama

Of your tears, that

Victorian chivalry

Which moved to action

your pen of Gold;

We who could only

Pray to die with

Such regal dignity as tho.

´¯)*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¯)

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

KEEPER OF THE FLAME

 

All enlightenment

A candle dripping wax of desire

My lips kiss the flame

Rekindling the wick of

your indifference

For I will stand here in the fire

Give everything I have

To burn our love back alive

THE CRUSH

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

THE CRUSH

 

I was jealous of

the guitar,

your fingers stroked the strings,

made beautiful sounds,

made others cry.

 

I was jealous of

your coffee,

your lips paused over the cup

dreamily, you swallowed so sexually,

delighted in each drop.

 

I was jealous of

your shower, beads

of water saturating each

inch of your steel body,

glistening in perfect solitude.

 

I was jealous of

your sheets, how they

wrapped you each night,

you left your scent there,

there you felt safe.

 

I could go on, the

silly musings of a young girl

with a stupid crush,

I’m too young for this.

 

I hand in my Essay after

class.  It’s about Moving On,

letting go of things we’ll never have.

 

Research taught me nothing.

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf