[049] Poetry
Dec. 23rd, 2011 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helenorvanaPoems written for my Writing Poetry class this semester. I'm slowly coming around to this, I think.
IN THE WINTER EVENING
The only light in the room is from flame:
three candles on the coffee table,
one each on both end tables,
a fire crackling in the hearth.
There is breath in the fire,
voice and life.
It cackles and it laughs,
snapping a song in the quiet -
wheezes and blows,
billowing heat into the room.
The further from the hearth
the cooler in grows;
the tiles are ice to bare feet.
In the chair nearest the hearth is a girl,
bundled in blankets and eyes gently closed.
She should be the next-warmest thing in the room.
She isn't.
Her soft snores should blend with the snapping chorus.
They don't.
The only life in the room is from fire.
ANNIVERSARIES
Tell me ten times the story –
embellish as you need –
regale me with the fairy tale
of how you first met me.
Tell me nine times the truth:
“This year, I wed the best.
Those other girls could not compare –
my wife, above the rest.”
Tell me eight times a fable.
I wasn’t your first girlfriend.
How would life be if another girl
had tried to break the trend?
Tell me seven times anew –
we’ve come this far together.
Pledge once more to be my love;
there’s more that we can weather.
Tell me six times you love me –
I’ll give you reasons why!
The nurse tells me to breathe and push –
our baby girl’s first cry!
Tell me five times you care.
I struggle hard to breathe.
In sickness and in health, my love,
you swore to stay with me.
Tell me four times you’re happy.
We argue and we fight.
I know these days it seems so hard,
but don’t give up on me!
Tell me three times you’ll stay.
This comes as no surprise.
Our little girl must have a home.
Don’t sign those papers, please.
Tell me twice I’m worth it.
Tell me just once a lie.
THE HERALDING
It announces itself as a weight
upon the outstretched limbs,
an ache in the muscle –
a sluggish response.
Now a creaking of the bones
as the skeleton begins to settle.
Legs are slow to uncoil –
comfort in repose.
It drags down the eyelids,
slows the heart, deepens breaths,
and blood now merely flows
through the shrinking veins.
Mouth gapes and jaw cracks –
a desperate attempt
to coax oxygen to the brain
and stave off the dark.
The eyes slide shut
for just …
one …
moment …
TO MY LEFT
IN THE WINTER EVENING
The only light in the room is from flame:
three candles on the coffee table,
one each on both end tables,
a fire crackling in the hearth.
There is breath in the fire,
voice and life.
It cackles and it laughs,
snapping a song in the quiet -
wheezes and blows,
billowing heat into the room.
The further from the hearth
the cooler in grows;
the tiles are ice to bare feet.
In the chair nearest the hearth is a girl,
bundled in blankets and eyes gently closed.
She should be the next-warmest thing in the room.
She isn't.
Her soft snores should blend with the snapping chorus.
They don't.
The only life in the room is from fire.
ANNIVERSARIES
Tell me ten times the story –
embellish as you need –
regale me with the fairy tale
of how you first met me.
Tell me nine times the truth:
“This year, I wed the best.
Those other girls could not compare –
my wife, above the rest.”
Tell me eight times a fable.
I wasn’t your first girlfriend.
How would life be if another girl
had tried to break the trend?
Tell me seven times anew –
we’ve come this far together.
Pledge once more to be my love;
there’s more that we can weather.
Tell me six times you love me –
I’ll give you reasons why!
The nurse tells me to breathe and push –
our baby girl’s first cry!
Tell me five times you care.
I struggle hard to breathe.
In sickness and in health, my love,
you swore to stay with me.
Tell me four times you’re happy.
We argue and we fight.
I know these days it seems so hard,
but don’t give up on me!
Tell me three times you’ll stay.
This comes as no surprise.
Our little girl must have a home.
Don’t sign those papers, please.
Tell me twice I’m worth it.
Tell me just once a lie.
THE HERALDING
It announces itself as a weight
upon the outstretched limbs,
an ache in the muscle –
a sluggish response.
Now a creaking of the bones
as the skeleton begins to settle.
Legs are slow to uncoil –
comfort in repose.
It drags down the eyelids,
slows the heart, deepens breaths,
and blood now merely flows
through the shrinking veins.
Mouth gapes and jaw cracks –
a desperate attempt
to coax oxygen to the brain
and stave off the dark.
The eyes slide shut
for just …
one …
moment …
TO MY LEFT
