“A Girl”
“A Girl”
Sonnet 197
4/8/03
Burgundy embers glow smooth
And tie themselves into the dessert bark.
Moonlight blends with pools
Of night; making ebony and diamond art.
Celestial staircases descend
And slightly tip themselves away
From frantic grasps of Fallen men.
The moonlight ropes strand frayed
And gleaming ‘gainst the hue
Of sunlight’s last ruby breath.
Finger tips of youth
Stretch out from arms and grasp
The windows of my soul.
The wonders of an artist stand in relation to the whole.
______________________________________________________
The title of this poem makes little sense in relation to the style and subject matter. But here’s the thing: when I began my poetic journey I wrote about everything, even the mundane. My goal was to craft my meter, figurative language and devices. So I would take the simplest ideas and make them grandiose. (I highly recommend this as a way to stretch yourself. It is easy to draft a majestic poem from a mountain top, but draft an equally moving piece from the inside of a darkened cave.)
Anyway, the subject of this piece was a girl sketching. As she leaned over her paper her blond hair (Burgundy embers/celestial staircases/moonlight ropes/Finger tips) fell back over her black sweater (dessert bark/pools of night/grasps of fallen men). Anyway, you get the idea. 
Mist the Air
“Mist the Air”
4/8/03
CH
Should I speak with her?
Raindrops mist the air. I squint
Because I’m scared,
But maybe she’ll guess I’m wet.
She squints when she smiles.
Those burnished browns
Almost disappear,
Like moonlight takes her frown.
Her smile speaks to me.
What does it say? I wish I knew.
My collar’s flipped around my neck . . .
My lips are turning blue.
Raindrops mist the air. I smile
(‘Cause she pulls it out of me).
I guess that I should speak with her
Because she spoke to me.
Question
“Question”
6/23/03
I have a question!
I have a question!
Hey! I have a question!
Can I go out and play?
I want to go out and play.
What did you say?
I’ve already asked that one?
But I want to have some fun.
Are you sure I’ve asked you that one?
Three times? Are you sure?
What was your answer?
I can’t remember!
No?! I have to stay
Inside! Um. Excuse me, if I may,
But I was wondering . . .
Can I go outside and play?
______________________________________
Through the Eyes of a Child
Sonnet 203
Sonnet 203
8/25/03
Again, and twice, and even more;
Kneeling, asking, closing eyes.
Looking down to miss a glance or four;
A chance to steep in crime.
Eight hours lasting, drawing on
Into an eternal confessional.
What I’ve seen, and what they’ve done–
Swinging like a Gras processional–
Leaving me broken, dirty,
Inside, out, and all around.
Taken places hated by my weave,
Walking ground
That shakes me and brakes me.
All for sake to raze me.
Snow
“Snow”
7/28/03
I ate some snow today.
I even built a snowman.
I tied my scarf around my neck,
And built a fort that no one can
Destroy. No matter if they have
A million snowballs.
But my mom wouldn’t let me get my sled out,
And I couldn’t deck the halls,
And when I told her what I did
She laughed and put her fan down.
“Sweetheart.” she softly beamed.
“It doesn’t snow in Florida.”
Of course, my mom can’t know
That there simply must be snow
When Christmas time is here
(She’s obviously a little slow).
So until the flakes start falling
(And they seem a little late)
I will keep pretending
And try to skate across the lake.
_________________________________________
Through the Eyes of a Child
