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Haiku Ika-Unom
the morning mist fades
a golden sun revealed
her eyes kept westward
Ocean EyesYour skin would be lace
Between my fingertips,
Tangling with streams
Of golden sunlight that
Button you up,
Leaving intricate patterns
That tell your secrets
With every thread.

You'd breathe like a mermaid,
The scent of the sea echoing
In our veins,
Like teenage hearts
Pumped full of lust.
Too fast.
Like heels on marble floors,
But you're so
Much closer
Than that.

You're blood in my lungs
And air in my heart,
But I live only
Off the raindrops
That fall from
Your soft, sea-stone eyes
When a smile curves your lips.

The edges
Gathering me,
Unraveling me.

(I carve you in the sand,
But ocean tears
Wash you away.)
Polaroiddo not tell me
the caveman sought
his chilled rock cave
alone

that he
without language
passed snapshots by

no

tell me he
shouted in his thickets
crushed his silken fruit
colored red the broken birds

and grass and sky and sea
FugitiveIt's the end of the line:
twine torn thin between
rotten railway sides
and the trains
that slide
in and out of light
like my tunnel-sight:
shackled to life
(and the line)
in Noir.

Time unwinds
behind thine eyes:
A broken reel run-away
whose frames flicker
and skip
and stick
like a flip-book,
pages carved into flight
from a steam locomotive
streaming on by.

Smoke and pulp conspire
in the spiral skies,
delicately deconstructing
dreamscape deaths
in the mire:
reversing chase patterns
pulled from plans
and pursuers in blotted
black and white

-- and blood
caked upon canvas:
causality cracks
against crimson tides,
t
SolarThe light breaks into
your house, where you sit facing
east. In the sky, a
dragon rises, flaming, and
gives birth to a golden sun.
white noiseThe only thing that seems to keep the world out of my head these days
is white noise
it's a rush of excitedly flapping wings
it's nothing you could grasp but a sound and a colour that is none
I try to keep the world out
(she is playing her music too loud too much these days)
and I think of you, ears buzzing with white noises until they ache.
And I catch myself thinking
I wish you were my white noise -
the sound in between my heartbeats,
the same words whispered so close to my ear they sound like beautiful little secrets,
the rock I cling to when the waves crash violently all around me to keep from drowning, I wish you were
my home, my favourite pair of arms, my heart, my safe place, the one to soothe my mind.
I wish you were so many more things
than just far away and as impossible to touch
as white noise.
so here's the thing:i feel like a tired little
skeleton wearing the
same shirt 1, 2,
3 days in a row, knuckles
drumming along the knobs
of my spine and fingers
digging in
   be twe  en the      rib         bones
that flash in the sun and create
shadows on my skin

and listen, everybody wants to be
skinny but i want to sleep and it's funny
, i don't want my bones to
skick out at
                   odd
      angles
but my stomach
dfc 12-6: monotetrai thought i'd write a tongue twister:
one that doles out oral blisters,
has folks begging 'mercy, mister!'...
i just missed 'er, i just missed 'er.

so...that leaves me writing aimless,
monologuing blithe and shameless.
should i be accused of sameness
am i blameless? am i blameless?
Atrocity.I know your name;
It is wet wind through thick
leaves on warm nights.

Our pensive heart, drawn on the worn
thin velvet pages of my favorite books.

I wear your soul like a cloak
against what-ifs and listen wholly
to the crickets I
robbed you of.
HAIKU: untitledsalmon moon
falling back into
the ocean
NaPoWriMo - 15The sun fries greasy 
as clouds break the runny yolk.  
Crave those crispy sides.  
I Am Not Your ReceptacleI am not your receptacle,
not your Grand Canyon
to feed with the echoes
you hunger for.

See me!

I wear a three o'clock shadow,
and vodka stained walls
starved of the things
you're asking for.

See me! See the person-
I am not your echoing chasm!

See me!
You cannot pour juice
from an empty jug.
White noiseI forget now,
what it was I came here to say.
It felt incredibly important
in that moment –
that flash of inspiration –
when I reached for the pen.
But my mind wouldn't wait,
my thoughts refused to pause on
the image I sought to preserve
and, instead, they kept turning
and stumbled over
and ever onwards until,
starved of oxygen,
my memory drew a blank
and I'm left with an empty space
staring back at me
which seems, somehow,
exactly as it should be.
Atvasarai.
Ridges in tea leaves
draw arabesques in darker seas
than we ever swam naked in

ii.
Evenings still shower your bed
with constellations made of dust
that my skin knows by heart

iii.
Atop halos of ashen snow
the mountaintop still calls your name
or is it calling me
to you?

iv.
I lay singing by your side
lullabies that make you cry
of how I regret not hating you
Passionately.
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May 2, 2010
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Tending our garden

:iconwindywolfune:

Tending our garden
I pull apple blossoms
From your hair
:iconxlntwtch:
*xlntwtch Jan 3, 2013   Writer
:+fav: A lovely and different kind of haiky that I 'see' very well. Thank you. Congratulations on the DLD.
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:icondailylitdeviations:
=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 :+fav:ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.
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