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SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.
O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;

pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers

to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
HysteriaMoon sliver arms raised
to the eventide sky,
hysteria dripping like wine

like a prayer, slipping —
hallowed lips no longer, and

the weight of every loss
and ticking clocks
cracking dappled ground.
GhostsNight time musings;
hollow-eyed and shallow-breathed,
filling the spaces between clouds.

Quivering shadow skin…

And there are voices in the dark,
lost sighs and weight upon whisper;
but, we are all whispers here.
SehnsuchtOctober again;
and the curtains billow
with broken glass echoes and
Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times

(ein
zwei
drei)

She becomes the rain,
and breaks her own heart as
the sound
drips
right through us.
MuselingRed wine rambles
curdle the air, but still
you dream; half-moon
body curled in the

lamp light. I am leaving,
I am leaving, choking on
some holy word—
the floorboards creak,

a sonata for my
changeling shadow
whilst you, hair tangled upon
the pillow, are spun gold.
Wildflowers, Imperfect BirdsI breathed your name like wildflowers under vast broken skies, in wide-open spaces. The wind blowing through them spoke of dew and dirt and petrichor, and there was sunlight on the ground like a mosaic patterned by god's own hands.

I said it like a monarch claiming new land: a declaration, a butterfly breath over old earth; like it was coffee on a warm morning with the sun in my eyes, interlacing with my lashes; like it was a dream; like it was a prayer like it was a miracle wrought of air and bone and body: you, in, out, in, out, in and in and in.

I cried it out like an earthquake between lip and lip, continents that don't quite fit: your
Memoir1.
Vert velvet slippers
and a mouthful of water –
dragonflies flit by.

2.
Twin evergreen canes
support the elderly bridge;
an unsteady crone.

3.
Citronella flame,
illuminating fingers,
out-bites mosquitos.
PeonyAlone, but for
the red boots marching
through my

cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the

lost. Ghost-
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama

in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
FableMoon cloaks
fallen from
shoulders,

(and you are)

left clad in only
the softest of
shadows.
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
     i. summergirl,
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
surefooted smile.
     ii. you have grown
so fast.
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
perched treetop,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
     iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams 
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
summergirl, th
SurrealismThree a.m., and
God is in my bathtub

again—
sipping whiskey

hallelujahs;
backlit by

a freshwater moon
in the mother-of-pearl sky.
SerenissimaSlumbering suns
take a midmorning nap;
alleyways bright with
golden ladies,

their smiles canal-deep.
Nightfall brings guides:
stone sighs and dead light,
(never so alive).
LointainListen carefully, for I am plucking spider-web harp strings in the light of your glistening, rain-sodden breath. There is such beauty in this city, and in symphony, you see—so keep rhythm with these skeleton trees dancing on street sides, winter branches quivering. Can you hear the beat of your heart? Its cadence is being matched by that of the shadows, ephemeral figures waltzing hand-in-hand across cobblestones and twirling at the very cusp of the lamp posts' soft glow...

          Sway now, my dearest, to the allure of this chorus in the night; to the echoing sound of this moonlit sona
PixieI never had enough faith in you,
my best postmodern pixie friend,
who presses herself against my shoulder
killing her fall with leaning.
You taught me something new
about anxiety today:

                            how to wake
up when it's morning, how to miss
 dactylic illness with the parched
        indelicacy of a crinkled sun.
  In the eternal rendition you say
your name is always in the vocative
          case, and only vocative:

says the girl
who taught a smaller girl to sing,
a girl of thirteen, with the same
nimble character we shared, the same
calderical eyes we shared.

                         The girl's voice
       tumb
Browse More Like This

More from *Concora

Compendium1.

Pair of lovers:
the greyed doves perch,
an old married couple.

2.

Lonely navigator—
a bumblebee lands, graceless;
the flower droops.

3.

The rain-swollen sky
bruised purple, and darkening:
work of angry gods.

4.

Lanterns released—
a thousand midnight suns;
night becomes day.

5.

Kitchen cyclamen,
yearning for raindrops
a window away.

6.

Silver dragon
weaving through fields—
overflowed river.

7.

Afternoon sun
meets the stained glass door—
light-dance ensues.

8.

Night sky, aglow:
yellow gleaming of the
lightbulb moon.

9.

Citrus silence:
an afternoon respite
by the lemon tree.
Sundropo  
 n
  some
  days I
   watch you
 rise and rage
with a new year
firework fervour–
untamed and glorious,
pulling the years together
with  a snap of  your fingers.
but some days you are languid,
stretching like the summer dusting
of freckles along your forearms, the
slumberous strands of hair shuttering
your sky-eyes from the morning light.
on these days, I think the earth spins
slower and the birds sing a little
quieter. on these days, I look
at you and I think:
sundrop.
ProcessionImperial rose,
flanked by pansies yet to bloom:
ladies in waiting.

Featured in Groups

:iconthewritersmeow: :iconpenandpaperpoets: :iconpoeticalcondition: :iconwordflight: :icontalentedwritersguild: :iconword-smiths: :iconwritersink: :iconthesimulacrum:
×

Apsara

:iconconcora:

Find me sunken into the
lotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,
waist-deep and pink

in sunset, and we will cry:
for three-faced elephants,
for rain,

for the dancers threading grace
between their fingertips—
until I dress in the heaviness,

a sarong of heat.

598

48 60 19
:iconconcora:

Apsaraby *Concora

DescriptionDetailsShare
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I'm really am quite missing Cambodia. :heart:

Featured:
Here by =dreamsinstatic

Thank you so much!
©2012-2013 *Concora
Category: Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

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Submitted on
December 27, 2012
File Size
433 bytes
Views
598
Favourites
48 (who?)
Comments
60
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:iconslowslicksnails:
=slowslicksnails May 11, 2013  Student Writer
Pfft. I don't know why I didn't favorite this before.

Well, I fixed that. Fav'd it now. :heart:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora May 11, 2013   Writer
:heart:!
Reply
:iconslowslicksnails:
=slowslicksnails Apr 29, 2013  Student Writer
I can't believe I never read this before...
This poem is extremely beautiful and just perfect. I can feel one of those hot and moist rainy days from this poem, which is really interesting. Beautiful imagery. You really know how to find the perfect words.
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora May 3, 2013   Writer
Wow, thank you so much for such a lovely comment! This piece is really quite special to me, so I'm glad you like it. :heart:
Reply
:iconxlntwtch:
*xlntwtch Apr 27, 2013   Writer
...for the dancers threading grace / between their fingertips-- Just those lines are very beautiful.
It's a joy to read what surrounds them as well. Thank you. :+fav:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Apr 28, 2013   Writer
No, thank you - Cambodia is my absolute favourite place in the world; I'm so glad to know I did it some justice. :hug: :heart:
Reply
:iconxlntwtch:
*xlntwtch Apr 28, 2013   Writer
You gave it "justice," and beauty, too. :heart:
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora May 3, 2013   Writer
:heart:
Reply
:iconalexiscaitlinking:
~alexiscaitlinking Feb 23, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Fantastic. I keep coming back to your poetry. It's imagery and emotion is phenomenal.
Reply
:iconconcora:
*Concora Feb 24, 2013   Writer
Oh, that is such a complement. Thank you so much. I'm thrilled you enjoy my work. :heart:
Reply
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