[x]

SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.

Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
gossamer wings;

faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
slips away.

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

Sky EyesDesert hands tell tales
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they

(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).

But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;

and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
ground underfoot—

for there is still sun in your sky eyes.

ApsaraFind 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.

on wet roadsv. She wasn't meant to be helped. We are all wrung from the same breaded soil, bound by our virginal ties to bareback earth. And so maybe it's okay to be a beggar, then, cradling this age-old fatigue.

xcvi. "Here, try this."

Nothing had ever sensitized me more than the smell of green, carried heavily on gusts of crisp oceanic air. The world slowly began to fade around me, and I let my head drop to my knees while the gentle rush of sea teemed humble volumes of vibrant aural stimulation.

"I don't really care who it is, you know. All I want is someone real."
An hour passed in silence. "Lift up your head." It's too heavy for me to carry, plea

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

HazeCatching sunlight;
golden silhouettes
dripping

with the
taste of summer
lingering,

heavy upon lips.

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.

AThere is birdsong and
sun-drenched long limbs,
sprawled across India green;

wet hair haloes and
a restless route scrawled
up arms and over hands.

There are blueberry smiles,
feet upon dashboards,
and city-light fireflies...

(And,
then there is you.
Always, always you.)

with thanks to salingerAudio version.
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
and smiles
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear

i found a body"i found a body made of light and wood."

human,
with pieces of fleshy bark pasted on
roughly, unevenly-
as if its creator were a drunken artist.

from the rich-brown wooden body
tiny green buds spurt;
and beneath the bark,
a hot light glows
bubbling between the cracks of wood
as if larva would pour out if a piece of bark
were to be peeled away.
a swarm of buzzing fireflies,
lingering near the magnificently delicate body.

the body belonged to a man I talked with in my dreams.
his peculiar mind babbled with demons -
they were long and fleshy
and fell over
like old flowers
bowing in sorrow.
the righteous

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

FableMoon cloaks
fallen from
shoulders,

(and you are)

left clad in only
the softest of
shadows.

To LondonGypsy hopefuls once told me,
there are flights leaving for
any destination
at any given instant

Upon sizing up our town with
a fingernail
did you realise how little
our frustrations were?

I spoke about this ineffable feeling
of stepping out of one tub
and into new water.

The hotel was done up nicely,
chandeliers and polished English accents.
Labels aside they still mixed
milk into their coffee
and had toast with jam and butter.

I was living under the impression
that most of the Internet
came from my same slice of city pie,
conveniently forgetting about
the undersea cables.

I loathed the lack of vernacular
sentence s

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HazeCatching sunlight;
golden silhouettes
dripping

with the
taste of summer
lingering,

heavy upon lips.

Fever DreamsHush now,
and close your eyes
against this vermillion sunset.

You feel so much, too much:
leave crescent moons on my skin,
calm the anguished crimson heat
of your own burning heart.

This war shall end, my love;
but what will you be,
if not red?

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.

MetamorphosisYour
hands
tremble
with sudden,
wary, butterfly
wing shivers—tiny tremors that
will keep rhythm with your quivering heart, only to
later, clandestine and yet nearly poetic, unravel you from the outside-in.

The Rainfall KidThere are raindrops on his fingers—a glistening cluster of perfectly silver droplets that read like some shining, ethereal roadway map—the night that he comes for her with the thunder of a summer storm rolling forward on his footsteps. The low rumble of it jolts her from a book induced slumber, the cover rough beneath hands and the jumble of last-read letters blurring on the underside of blinking eyelids as rain begins to fall. Although it's almost been longer than memory will allow, she knows that there is no mistaking the sudden upheaval of the outside world for anything other than his arrival—after all, it hasn't stormed in

WinterbleederCurled around alpine legs and caught
within hollows and inclines of pale skin,
she carries her endless winter always.

It settles upon frosted shoulders and
caps heavy-lidded eyes, clinging close to
the darkness of each snow-flecked breath;
lingering above cracked lips and the
remnants of a long forgotten warmth.

But darling, don't we deserve each other?

(She'd been Spring's child before Winter's whispers.)

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Sehnsucht

by *Concora, Oct 28, 2012, 12:36:20 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

October 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.

Sehnsuchtby *Concora

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2012-2013 *Concora

Sehnsucht
n. "The inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what."

-

Featured:
Here by =CelestialMemories
Here by =DailyLitDeviations

Thank you so much!

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=Sammur-amat Jan 13, 2013 General Artist

You are a very pretty writer with a very pretty soul.

Congratulations on the DLD!

Reply

*Concora Jan 14, 2013 Writer

Aww shucks. Stop it.

But thank you very much.

Reply

=Sammur-amat Jan 15, 2013 General Artist

NEVER

Always, sweetheart!

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~MehreenFreed Jan 3, 2013 Hobbyist Photographer

There's a lovely flow to the poem. Good piece.

Reply

*Concora Jan 4, 2013 Writer

Thank you very much.

Reply

*glossolalias Jan 2, 2013

congratulations on the DLD

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*Concora Jan 4, 2013 Writer

Thank'ee!

Reply

=DailyLitDeviations Jan 2, 2013

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.

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*Concora Jan 4, 2013 Writer

Oh, thank you so much!

Reply

~Adonael Nov 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

'Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times'

Nice reference, although I'm not familiar with any of the music he composed unfortunately :/

Reply