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February Scrapbook

Author: expiring_touch
ASL Info:    30/f/Hamburg
Elite Ratio:    3.94 - 139 /256 /171
Words: 434
Class/Type: Poetry /Love
Total Views: 1667
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 2994


1)Initially this was intended to be a Christmas Anthology, but it took a long time to write; and when I finished I realized that its more of a love anthology, so that's how it's got its name - february scrapbook, with valentines day around the corner.

2) this includes 3 poems that were already posted here, hope together they'll look a whole (instead of shattered pieces) and clarify some things.
3)Please tell me what you think about each of the poems, a perhaps suggest a better order of pitting them together.

February Scrapbook

Part I Pretty winter

Shall I see you again? -tonight,
In the middle of winter,
When shadows die by the lampposts,
We'll ride to a place,
Where moon phials streak across the mended mirrors,
And dust collects on the velvet tables -
A phantom of the snow outside.

I conjure the images, you dance the blues,
And here we are, blue statues of quicksilver -
For falling, breathing rose petals on the windows:
They ice themselves and cover
Our sleep, and conscience, and night - away.

We know the touch expires and the perfume fades
With time into the rushing headlights of the streets,
And I will keep forgetting how to hold my head
For inspiration.

We stay together in a place, an apparition of our dreams,
Statues of shadow to die in the morning,
Dissolve together, and dance to the blues,
On the parquet, burning, from so many feet.

Part II - Christmas Garland

The day I accepted I loved You -
As in bold, italic, formal - Sir,
Mere yawn thrown on the scattered poems,
An arrow whistling in the dreamy streets -
So cold, so lost,
Gold and blue, and sky in feathers,
And far away, on the very borders
Of the fingerprint universe
I painted for both of us,
A whisper.

It stretched across the whole of humanity,
It tickled in your ear
And brushed against your frozen cheeks,
And plunged together with the snow,
Where it would agonize and melt -
Drops of moon on the pavement.

My love is but a blasphemy,
Reach out and fall,
Winter's oaths keep breaking,
And I'm burnt out -
An old Christmas garland
On its last Christmas tree.

Part III - Meeting Again

I let the wind draw ice sculptures from my breath,
And play with them, and break them,
Leaving but dunes of ashes and white sleeves
To billow in the shadows.

I let you draw me close to you -again -
You took my hand in yours and showed me
How to glide, so smoothly, through the floor,
Like underwater gymnast.

I let you watch me cry -though you don't know this -
With closed eyelids, tantalizing hints.
I let you braid my lashes to the night and marry
The break of cosmos, slipping in between my lips.

Submitted on 2006-02-04 04:34:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  I think your anthology is very well written and each poem flows into the next and this makes the whole thing hang together perfectly.

A superb scrapbook you have here...keep adding to it.

| Posted on 2006-02-04 00:00:00 | by Frank Maguire | [ Reply to This ]

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