Friday, December 3, 2010

try for love ~ an etheree

i got this from 1manview of Shades of Erotic Poetry. he writes erotica and did this while challenging his readers to do it, too. for those of you who have never heard of it, an etheree is a form of syllabic poetry (similar to a haiku) where each line is done in syllables of can even go backwards and do 10-1. this is mine...

just once
give it up
give into it
quit running from it
pretending you don't care
masking your fear of love's hold
faking it, but not making it
choking off your own intake of breath
all to say you're in love...when you're not
saying what it enough now
when it could never make you whole
when it barely touches you...
not like i touched you then
and live in your mind
right this moment
in this time
don't lie
let it in
hold your breath, babe
and submerge yourself
even if it's not me
even if her name ain't mine
open up and give her a drop
and you will slowly see it wave in
and your giving will create your living...
i do
love you still
in this way...
as a heart to a heart
and my heart wants you happy
then again i could be so wrong
trapped off in my own idea of us
with it being me who needs to let go...

Wednesday, December 1, 2010


indelibly laden
deliberately stamped across...
like fawn tracks
across freshly fallen snow
indented for emphasis
like paragraphs that flow
the way
water erodes rock
until there is little left
but ridges of phantom levels
of water's past depth
like Crayola lines on old walls
a chronicle of a child's growth...
can be
so very lasting
like a painter's acrylic strokes
like fossils
that tell of
a butterfly's
prehistoric life
like steps by climbers
atop mountains high
on adventurous hikes
etches of inscriptions
breeching past the confines
of fibers weaved
into paper rawly unlined
...and so, is the love of him
scored into the heart of me
like nickeled wire
with fused ends
he's left a mark
only i can see
dug beneath what makes sense
this pock in my life
can't be filled
or replenished
it's the scar...
thought healed
trekked faintly across skin
those are the imprints
your presence
has left deep within

in the butterfly net...

i ink...i flow...i pen,
my soul, my words, my zen