Tag: about a boy

Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

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Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

I’m in the pool, with your gentle gaze moving toward the horizon
Smooth riverbeds, crashing yet
Solemn
Tender in their collapsing wake
My sovereign ways trap you like hurricanes
Find slumber in the rectitude of my rendition of a classic painting of a
Prince attending to a young queen
Dismayed at her place, though in a quiet peace,
That glances violently towards a moral upbringing
A softness I couldn’t portray

The Dressing of the Favorite (1857), oil on canvas, by Henri Pierre Picou (French, 1824-1895)

A sea-foam fog dynasty I swore was mine
I told you the truth
It mattered to me
I found thoughts in my mind that I couldn’t hold back, entirely
Though I did my best,
To provide you with rest
My satin sheath, vibrant with scarlet cardinal fibers
The delicate breeze, like rapture
Golden but never, truth be told, reflecting lightning that makes marks in the sky
A tribute to no one
Is every structure soon to fall down?
The bolts unfastened, my lace dress & ultramarine form
A silhouette only God could have created
A boldness that scares away anyone who isn’t
Strong enough
To hold a woman in his arms and
Not want to change her

The light pink August calendar I have on my contemporary glass tabletop
That forgot the date when we
Began things
Paved was our course with giving looks at each other like we’re in a vintage film
A theatre for just the two of us
Hopeful dedication
Watching our past conversations and having new conversations about those from before
We don’t run out of things to talk about
But when you find me watching the cars on the road pass by us, viciously,
Counting the trucks
Taking note of their model and make
You see something in me that I could not tell you
Not because I can’t find the right words
I always find the right words

Along the Siene, Winter (1887) by Frederick Childe Hassam (American impressionist painter, 1859-1935)

I don’t know what you know
And I don’t know if you know me
But when your gaze becomes increasingly familiar, I cascade into a
Reflection interrupted by the silliest words you stream together
A childlike ambiance, golden in accuracy
Crisp like a wave’s current
Interjected with passing a cigarette lighter
Getting higher
From rays of the subtle light of day,
Muted only in temperament
Dulcet on the edges
I told you I was yours
I meant it, of course

Le Baiser (The Kiss) (commissioned by the French state in 1888, carved between 1888-98) by Auguste Rodin (French sculptor, 1840-1917)

We stop at the gas station; you run in to the corner store; you bring me honey green tea
For your girl (that is a friend)
Patient and kind
A dove’s brisk white feathers
Softer than mankind
Rougher than a woman’s fingertips
Comfortable in the chaos
Surrendering to a time when you could count the green specks in my eyes
And smell my white floral perfume

It seems as of now we have moved on to the Heavens
Where you call me Venus
And I mistake you for someone I’ve never known before
An oceanic climate to the boulders we create
When we feel inclined to say
Why do I like you so much?
Why do I like when you’re rough?
I do still find, thinking to myself, whether I’m good enough
But when the porch light comes on,
I move the thought along
To the binder where I keep my disarrayed opinions
Resolving to find
Some water to allow
My throat to stop tightening when I get up during the night
Patience, my ever-present accomplishment, finds its way to you
Presenting an elegance you couldn’t get from anyone else

Improvisation (1899) by Frederick Childe Hassam (1859-1935), oil on canvas

I find myself in spaces
When you are absent
Distress being transient
Because your face is

A discernment I couldn’t get from anyone else

The Aleutian mountains and the disintegrating cliffs
Couldn’t mask the foundation I thought we’d bring
Resolving to find
Some water to allow

My throat to stop closing when I sleep at night
I wonder if styrofoam composure could fail to observe my fright
To weave in serenity in light shades of pink,

On days like today, I’m unsure how to drink
Come, lay in bed

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Free verse poem: Spiracles of abdomens (your story)

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Free verse poem: Spiracles of abdomens (your story)

You, you
You
Almost make me melancholic
But if the symphony hasn’t heard of me
I’ll sit on cobblestone and write by the fence
I’ll engage, with soft-lit edges
Spiracles of abdomens
Golden youth, we marvel like
Ants in solitude
Separated from one another
But not for the entire evening
Not for the rest of our story

A smooth enhancement
A sharp critique
I step slowly, carefully
Catching my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror & readjusting my Chicago Cubs cap
That makes me feel like I’m home
In my skin
For the rest of my story

The white carnations are dying and they look almost more beautiful with acute angles cutting their dismay
I’m out of flower food
But a homemaker nonetheless, I pay tribute to my residence
I glide slowly through the streets on a white bicycle that has
“Seven Peaks” written in a cursive print similar to the tattoo on my right forearm
My tribute to a honeymoon that never occurred
My golden, sporadic sailing through a lake that ends in fleeting desperation
For water
For vengeance
And I withhold apprehension
As I look for a few more moments at my porcelain figure,
Beginning to admire the grace that I emit
On this spinning planet
Where God always knows if you’ve finished your breakfast
And thrown away your leftovers

To remind you of the fact that I
Am here, somehow, with a watch that is more beautiful than I could have requested
The cursive print is like the tattoo that reminds me that
Despondency in your wake is no reason for one to hesitate
An afternoon of slumber is fond of my delicate breath and the weight I put on my mattress as the bedspread confronts the curves of my legs
Dimly tan from summertime by the water
Cold and rotten is the fiber sheath that transcends what I’ve known to be
Detachment from minute frustrations and incidents that in my former being would have sparked marked uncertainty
And I, do, become uncertain
But find a cave to lay my head without needing feathers embedded in satin
On an August day, I am briefly saddened
Because his birthday is coming up and I won’t reach for the telephone

I’ve got to get out of here
I’m turning in western glances and forgetting romance is
Something to complement me, not complete me
A swan lake, a river with no riverbed
Flowers left at the gravesite because I, miss you in ways I hope you know
I hope what follows

Will give me more material to write, always
Reminding me that ants in solitude
Are only temporarily confused

And they find each other in the dark
Complementing each other

For they already felt complete

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

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Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

A love poem about admiration & being interpreted as an authentic rendition.

A chamber orchestra to tell you that
I liked you in that grey t-shirt
Where stillness isn’t illness & former wounds don’t hurt
Moving my bed for me
Minding the carefully close-cut angles
Sweet diamond necklace for
Your baby girl
Soft as a feather
Lie here forever
Absorb the crisp meadow fog that bestows upon us
In our transient youth
We carry inherent truth
Teardrops like vessels that transmit to the azure
My ivory-white dress
Hair is a mess
Porcelain flesh

Find me in your wake

We drift like sovereign kingdoms unheard of
I don’t know your middle name
And this playground is made for the game
We play where you hold me when it’s dark outside
And the streetlights have yet to become undone
Every weekday I rise before the sun
Make you early morning toast
Vegan butter for my lover
You make me laugh in ways nobody ever has
And you’re so good at that
Turning my eyes lilac

Eyelashes painted tar pitch black
Tainted with dismay, but
The softest, quietest features make up your
Sweeping shoulders
A worn man with a contractor’s tan
That moves like sunbeams across flourishing streams
Finding meaning
Hope is so fleeting
But like windmills, we find a day’s work ahead
And you crawl in bed
Influenced by times I had said,
I would be here to calm your nerves
Patient and kind, like a little bird
I’ll be so warm, nothing has to hurt

I set a little trap; in it, I gathered dewdrops
Fragrances from the heavens
Get me home by eleven
Lay on your truck bed and I tell you I’m scared
The future felt obsolete but,
When our gaze meets
I find you in a pocket of porcelain teeth
Gnawing at the frostbite
The howling of the mariner’s night
You rearrange your textbooks and I, light as a pinion
Slip out of the way and I want you to stay
In your grey t-shirt so I can admire
The fibers that overlay your hardened shoulders
Something inside me no longer unnerving
The weight of the earth no longer a burden
You’d go mad from the chaos in my sheath

A smoothness to my skin that absolves sins
The way I’m lighthearted, like no one ever departed
Leaving me to stand in the snow that is falling
And it is now that I think I am stalling
From telling you, I see
Amber rays underneath your eyelids
In the near distance, a gathering of kids
Laughing like God allowed them to celebrate
We’ve got our entire lives to make what’s never been made
Your swarm of avalanches
The dark-cornered branches
This is my stop; I’m home now and
In mint julep transience and snowy ambiance
I’ve somehow arrived in your department
The flowers in the vase in the center of my apartment
The things that make me smile before I go to lock it

Behind me to turn to you and
We drove through Stars and Stripes
Detonating furiously like January ice
We slipped and fell in front of a chamber orchestra
A noise I can only recollect when you object
To me, choosing a spot in the shade,

You want the sun’s rays to cast their marvel on my figurine, my sugared marmalade
Vast open skies
Graceful, feminine thighs
I’m fair-skinned, I know, but your words go to show
You want to have me in the best possible light
Get the green in my patient & reserved eyes, just right
Note the ash blonde strands that are tied with a ribbon
Falling slightly on my face,
Terrible thing to waste
Being at the right time at the right age

When you are near
I don’t have to fear
That I will be seen differently than I am composed

It’s gentle velvet days and nights like those
That I don’t mind you being so close
In your charcoal-grey, woven-cotton t-shirt

To see me as delicately as I am composed
It’s silk & satin days and nights like those
That I just love you being so close

That I just love being in love, almost

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Poem: Payphone (the curtain falls)

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Poem: Payphone (the curtain falls)

A generation’s ills
A dazzling medieval palace for my deep affection for bridal gowns
With pearly white coffins moving mountains to tell me that
Someone more important has taken my place
With a soft-haven silhouette
She has the loveliest face
For a world where nobody remembers your name

A cave where I kept
A bibliography of sorts
I spent days citing sources to be able to go back
In time
To find
Myself locked in gates I never swallowed whole
The vicinity was clear and
I, so struck by fear,
Lost my train of thought on the train where I forgot
My passport and my engagement ring
The prettiest doll face
The saddest little thing

If death is an escape, why isn’t anybody telling me where those people went
They only let you in to certain places if you know certain people
And I
Found something very dark
About the way, he got away
With crimes in broad daylight
The pigeons wouldn’t wait
I think I’ve passed Hell now
But now I’m insane
And I don’t know
When it’s too late to be too late
I set it on fire
Such a beautiful gate
It poured like peroxide
The same bitter taste

It’s a terrace for evenings that run like wire circuits
It’s so terrifying to look back
I’m young, I’ve got this
I can’t think like that
I have to stay on track
Summer’s passing by in too fleeting of ways for me to react
Every other person seems on the verge of collapse
I cannot find reason
Living in Timelapse
Memory for memory’s sake
Is such a sad fact

‘Within reach’ says my lavender bedroom wall
I believe it most days
Some days I don’t think
I think in this chaos we’ll unwind and then sink
Into the pavement with the solace that comes with
Holding eternity for eternity

I was so close
It passed me by
No lexicon is sufficient to surrender what I’ve hindered
Crawl under the bedsheets for the sheer familiarity
The cotton, like childhood
Is lost by the evening
I can’t focus on anything when I’m thinking about everything
And if you saw vividly through me and felt I was sinking

Would you be forward, address it
Ignore it, regret it
Pay a debt that nobody else is around to pay
I really thought I had it but his look was so
Cold
It startled the aseptic daylights out of me
It felt a lot like tragedy

And if someone more important has taken my place,
Do I want to know his name?
Or which face
To look for when I see thousands looking for someone else

If an entire life could be a regret
How is my small frame to persevere at all
The show has ended
The curtain falls

You stand at the payphone
With no one to call

The show has ended
The curtain falls

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Poem: Growing up (I’m a grown-up)

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Poem: Growing up (I’m a grown-up)

I wanted to be all grown up
I wanted to be all –

In the summertime, I’m ravished by a thousand medallions
Fragrances of June feathers and soft remembrances
Sparkling streamers commemorating my absence from the Heavens
And credit cards saying they’ll spend all their worth on me
All their worth on me
The flowers are wilting just for me
I see you put up walls to cover your misery
You know brick and mortar can’t overpower me

We knew we’d eventually separate into two
Composite values
For which an absolute is not a resolute conception
And my evening dress is
Too sophisticated to mention
An evening made for redemption
I can tell you’re apprehensive
Always having bad days
In your chosen remote location for being pensive
He said I was filled with love, his daffodils only turning up lust
So much that I’ve gathered has turned to dust
And I’m waiting, praying, I don’t combust
Memory’s spears have had enough

In trying times, we cut the lines that separate your horizon from mine
And we’ll get through this, every little moment
Is a chance for us to know what we didn’t before it
I’m afraid but I don’t show it
I have to pay, but to whom do I really owe it?

Next to paradise canyon and the dooming, glooming waterfalls
I look across a thousand strangers’ faces
Crisp and green, tinted-pink eyeballs
I’m made of riches
And I think this itch is
Giving me a headache like when you lie in your bed awake
And you don’t know how much more laughter you can take
You don’t know where Eden’s best diamonds are made
And whether your loss is a loss, or if it’s fate
I chose not to eat my birthday cake
I almost threw up from the bitter taste
You said honey wait, yeah okay, I’ll wait
A thousand streams in my mind for me to paint
I love making you melt, watching you cascade
When is too late, really too late?

I want you crestfallen in an amber honeypot from Hell
I want to bathe in the remaining residual prime numbers from orthodox haven
I want your miscalculations to sound like compliments
Watering my house plants
Completing my silly little routine tasks

Your lies are a chore and your cradle is where you were born and this city is what we will go on to forever mourn
Several traced pathways to the kingdom we couldn’t seize
Drinking strawberry soy ice cream milkshakes
Like how much more is it gonna take
Like how much more time am I throwing away
How many more birthdays to memorize for the sake of remembering dates
I lost my sanity somewhere where I said goodbye
To all the people that died slow deaths begging for me to stay
I made it to the pink, comforting, but swollen cave
And I thought about my biggest mistakes
Days passed as I made my way through the trenches
To find your favourite New York City bench, which is
The place of sentences interlaced back and forth
In a crochet-knit paradise of conventions
Where you were too handsome for me to mention
Any hesitation or break in my thought patterns

Like whether love was all that really mattered
When I’d stay up late, crystal daisy-filled vineyards I would destroy before you rose with the sun
I could have sworn I was coming closer
But I was the only one
And I am the only one
Calling you from this telephone booth
Telling you I think I’m ready to grow up now

Do you have some time to find me now
To figure me out
To spend days with a girl in a blue satin dress
That took several hours getting dressed
Because inherently she thinks she’s a mess
And romance can bring impending stress
When you don’t feel that you are, the portrait of your complete best

Can I come home now
I’ve been alone now
In this telephone booth with a line forming around the corner
And if I were yours, I’d put everything in order
But twice is too much, and you thrive on disorder

I’m all grown up now
Can I come home?

I wanted to be all grown up
I wanted to be all –