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for a poet in a city (ii)

In by Bunc on January 17, 2017 at 11:38 pm

what joy to hold another golden
plume, forevermore,
of dust that keeps the vernal gust
enamored of his chore

yet bittersweet to only meet
the rose from which it soared,
with thanks unto her absence
four-and-ninety years before

the seasons thence securely fenced
her graceful bloom away,
in sacred woods of sisterhood
that keep storm-winds at bay

and so he bows in kind to her
who winsomely eludes;
a lowly air to kiss the glow
between their solitudes

a mist and not a tempest
overlays the zephyr’s word,
in prayer that she forgive his song
its wanting to be heard

for a poet in a city (i)

In by Bunc on January 17, 2017 at 5:24 pm

alike the soils allowing seeds
to rise unto the stars,
pretend you’ll let this drifter spend
tonight between your bars

i humbly found you underground
before today was through,
where into throngs of barren songs
they tried to bury you

but sending two resplendent plumes
of golden-dusted breeze,
[these stanzas seek to say] you sparked
a certain soul to sneeze

and should these beaded couplets fall
beneath their lofty worth,
my petrichor regret would pour
asunder from the earth

but don’t coerce yourself to nurse
these saplings wrought from clay;
this boy could fall in love another
hundred times today

A new dream

In by Wyatt on September 12, 2016 at 4:36 pm

I was nervous.

You’d been in your mama’s belly for so long. I was walking down the hallway, wondering how to be with you, hold you, love you. I saw you, scooped you up. An unkown ventricle in my heart opened and a new flavor of love erupted through me.

When I woke up, Lara said I’d been laughing. I remembered the warm weight of you, so important and tiny. You saw wonder in my face. I saw the explosion of a timeless universe, which now had you in it.

I loved you in a dream, my daughter. One day.