Author: poetryfest

Capri is framed by the east window,
Mount Vesuvius centers in the west. Chandeliers
suspend high, trapeze artists erupting their crystal
blooms to guide a Mardi Gras of painted clay and gesso
far below ceiling

vaults. Do you recall sunset velvet splayed across marble
and moss of the ruin over there? I imagined you imagining
that glow coming from spits of lava exhaled by your crater-mountain-god, disrupting ground
more than we shook the bed. Your voice rumbled, your eyes ignited, instructing
me your lover

was that volcano, not I. It was my gift to you, unwrapped
in eternal, unpredictable threat against what I thought was only sky. Your body
flows away, mercury untamed in the shadow of that volcano, resting
your memory where it breathes potent. I lost sovereignty by its
annexation of you.
You need that volcano like seed does soil,
smoke does fire,
Earth does Sun.

There is something glorious when fresh planted flowers bloom on a Sunday
How about when the sounds of singing baby birds relaxes a human’s ears in the Spring?
Have you ever felt something you wish could last from one season to the next, my friend?
Something so innocent it can hurt.
Well, I dream to see flowers bloom on a Sunday.
And how I love to hear birds relaxing me in the Spring
And I hurt from being excited when you challenge me.

Oh, how strong I am bound with sweet and citrus guilt
However, I do recall feeling it once before
But those ships has sailed, I will not aboard
Not anymore
I am in the now, living for the moment
If I feel guilty then I wish to take my punishments like a man.
…like a man who has murdered ten to twenty times.
Waiting has never done me any good
I miss out on life but you never could.

Finally, while I confess my sins
My mind takes me back to what I really knew.
Fresh planted flowers on a Sunday
Singing baby birds in the Spring.
Ahh…the feeling of being renewed.
And now the pain at the pit of my stomach
You must be challenging me.
Tho this is not a game
Something serious is going on
The unsaid words hiding behind our laughs, certainly
I could be wrong.

My friend, I confess to you
My days are never worth living unless you walk into my life ready
to face our challenges together
And certain that we could never lose.

My friend, I confess to you
These are not confessions of love
But confessions of pure admiration.
Life is about unexpected revelations.
I remember when you were reveiled to me.
Ahh…the feeling of being renewed.
Suddenly, I don’t feel so guilty.

Before I have to be somebody,

to wear my clacking shoes;

before the night turns over,

just after pressing snooze;

before insistent, tiny paws impress upon my chest,

hold me in the minutes before morning,

for just a moment more of rest.