Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

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

Poem: Little baby bat (February)

Poem: Little baby bat (February)

And that’s all that he needs from her
Pretty gal in his Vans t-shirt
“Felt cute,” so I matched it with a plaid skirt
I didn’t think you’d notice; when you didn’t, it still hurt

To know that I
Am not
The important figurine my egotistical self deems me to be
If our destinations were predetermined,
I know you’d still find a way to hurt me on purpose
Was so confused, wondered why I was acting so nervous
Fell into a tar black trap trying to become perfect
I think to myself, was it worth it
If it’s me, you’ll always think less
Doesn’t matter the lip shade or the dress
Doesn’t matter how warm the hostess

The pretty dresses that I bought to look like your housewife
Don’t even fit me anymore since I recovered and came back to life
I don’t think paradise is
Looking at a light pink satin gown
Having daydreams, strolling around town
Nobody to look at, so where I look is down
Beneath the surface, off the edges, your voice is my favourite sound
I hate, hate, hate not having it around
You lost yourself or something, your irrationality is profound
In this parallel universe, a new beginning is what I’ve found
When I think about my love, I kind of love myself now

Ambiguity and confusion
Inspiration and bliss
Hair soft & golden, my perfume is what you’ll miss
The floral soft magnitudes
The strings on your toys
One of your wrong moves was assuming there were any other boys
When the yelling got too heavy, I surrendered to the noise
I never cried in front of you; I held myself with poise
Some things don’t really matter when you don’t have a choice

I recognized a softness
In you, but it was me
I’m the girl with pastel colours, who makes life lovely
A beautiful, sacred place to be
You felt so far away that I could not see
The visions that you had of me kept smothering me
You had an advantage
You ran out of chances
You never considered the stones I held
To believe in something, to pretend
You loved being adored
I was alone and bored
Pick out keychains with our names at the corner store
Saying that you love me always seemed like such a chore

You move one way, I step right back
I held on tight; I now regret that
It takes some time for me to become attached
But the memories that we contain run like a time-lapse
And I have flashbacks
Panic attacks
Running right after you, you screaming right back
I’m the glass wind shield, you’re the baseball bat
This isn’t what love is like, do you realize that?

I made my resolution early
To not find myself trapped
I wrap my wings around my torso like a little baby bat
I think of you while in traffic, I get so mad
I’m not your baby doll no more, I’m never coming back

Running right after you, you screaming right back
I’m the Victorian vanity mirror, you’re the one whose mad
Then you tell me you love me, but you look at me like that
I’m not your baby doll no more

But I am what you lack

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