| An experiment with climbing rhyme that worked out quite well. Possibly the most joyful poem I have ever written. |
dancing on a tightrope
Newest
DownpourI hurl raindrops at your chest of earth. Gravity lends them weight –Downpour
they splatter; the dry dirt is scattered.
You watch my eyes, the deluge pouring from clenching skies. There is a storm beating you, water doing its best to dent your surface. Nothing grows in soil so firmly fixed.
I do not know how else to move you, mould you, disturb and shape you. I wish this was not what it takes: a monsoon, a flood, so much water -damage to re-form your settled landscape.
by ~arliddian
the beauty of starsLast night I swept my hands through the sky and pricked my fingers on stars. Here. I will show you the holes pierced and cauterised by points of light.the beauty of stars
You look at me and I can see myself, reflected in the dancing glimmer of your eyes: all soft curves and diamond smiles and skin like jasmine or baby's breath. And you, you are a constellation or maybe an entire shimmering galaxy.
You touch my wounds and I ask, did you know
that beautiful things hurt?
by ~arliddian
Advice for the TimekeeperCaressing an hourglass and counting each grain of time-soaked sand does not make the seconds more precious, more poignant, more perfect.Advice for the Timekeeper
Throw away the clocks. Time is nothing with no-one to measure it; Forever has no need for a personal assistant.
Mathematicians are not magicians. Stop taking note of the numerals on your wrist. Do not watch my hands
as they circle your face.
Close your eyes. Hours can pass in one kiss. It does not matter.
Forget preoccupations with firsts and lasts: numbers only tell us what we k
by ~arliddian
Dental WorkI wear false teeth, set in a white-washed grin:Dental Work
my company teeth, for the business of being with people.
You shake your head and your hands form pliers, a chisel, a mallet. You chip at my cemented smile, snapping porcelain masquerading as bone. Your lightest touch has the force of a bird-laden, star-twirling fist.
I did not know it would hurt so much to lose a part of me that never was
my self.
by ~arliddian
Random Favourites
untitled-untitled
All the books you gave me reel around my room at night
because I have no safe place
to put them, because they are
like you. Among and beside the waiting secret; despite the years of ironing useless records into the air above are you not still the radiator
in my elsewhere, lifting up your head,
the best,
the loveliest and I want to be that true to you,
that awakening.
-
by ~AnnaInAdottedDress
sign-sign
there is a tree with finger branches
that touches with relentless force whoever trespasses his heart into
the holy folds, met Yahweh on a hill met Yahweh on a hill
there is a banner to be raised up standing in my magnetic field awaiting a rod of iron to strike the nations he will know me by the birds and bread
of Elijah laying in the riverbed
the chariots of the earth are his alone so we leave
our households behind to meet weeping in the room filled with one
enormous seam
and the loudest voice
the dream of
by ~AnnaInAdottedDress
and the love you're sure...I'm in the process of painting a picture wide as your smile and a thousand feetand the love you're sure...
tall
imagine
all the words I'll save
by *YouInventedMe
words just words?now I'd heard nothing before just never so abstractwords just words?
with the full force of facts
and figures of speech it was a firm return to form and
function
be damned!
and that's fine but I've never been much for finality
truth be told I've never been much at all
it seems I dream
too loud laugh
too wrong and suffer from a heart unfiltered
(who says)
"you
can
ask the stars for more than a peek" and "why wait to speak until spoken to?" &
by *YouInventedMe
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5 Facts #21
Tired
Devious Info
- Current Residence: the sunshine state
- Interests: God, music, reading, piano, writing
- Favourite artist: God
- Favourite poet or writer: e. e. cummings, T.S. Eliot, David Malouf
- Favourite cartoon character: Daria
- Personal Quote: Listen to what I mean, not what I say
- Tools of the Trade: Pencil and notebook
- Email: arliddian@yahoo.com.au
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V
--
Eric Kripke owns my soul...
Jensen and Jared own my heart...
And Misha takes my breath away...
--
[Philippians 1:21]
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
[Philippians 1:21]
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
[Philippians 1:21]
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
[Philippians 1:21]
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
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