(no subject)
Feb. 7th, 2005 08:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
labellementeuseA few poems I have had archived on my mother's computer. Some of them are on crack very bad, but have maybe one phrase I'd like to keep, so... these are OLD. Feel free to be amused.
sexy
there’s a word for it:
bisexual
but no-one says it.
we twist our mouths away from it
pucker them up;
I call it
keeping my options open.
it’s not a word to be thrown about
I’m sick of it
a world of ambivalent half-way-house dancing
I’d rather just shout it out:
I
like
girls
but no I’m
50-50
“not terribly straight”
swinging both ways
bisexual;
I think I’m going to give up on it all
and just be sexy.
*giggling* That one's so daft it's funny. :P
rainsong
I’ve been reading
1,000,000,000
love poems
and I’m walking in the rain
grey sheeting down
over Karori and Wadestown
rain catches in my eyelashes
I turn my face up
open my mouth
catching drops like
every other teenager pretending
to be younger than
she really is
dancing in the rain
full of the lightning
words and voices
a million sighs
I’ve been reading about.
condensed into various haiku I may submit:
it rains and I am
ev’ry teenager to dance
younger than she is.
it rains and I dance
like all the teenagers I
am younger in rain
rain on my face and
I pretend to be younger
drop ages and dance
or
forget me and dance
let me down i said
and shook on the inside
flung myself wildly against the walls
collapsed on the floor and laughed at myself
my backbone on the carpet
of my bedroom
I reach out to the bars of my bed
grip them
curling my fingers about
dance/love/dance
here is the secret of loving
in this careful elegant
confident
dance
i can see beginning
just over there
although they are on the other side of the room
everyone
can see what’s happening
perhaps she will lead
a delicate courtesy
&he will bow/take her hand
it is her firstdance
step on the strange floor
and she will pirouette and
arabesque
for him alone
for her he will do a thousand and one high kicks
and jeté across the floor forevermore
they’re moving faster now
to the beat of breathing
a stomp-stamp
CLAP
to latin rhythms
they feel so good.
in the full accelerando/
crescendo ali(o)ve
this is the dance-at-the-wedding
but also at the divorce
this is the messy break up
and the messier making up
i’ve seen it all before
i know the rhythms
the moves
so do they
it is implicit in our make up
it is the dance we all watch
most avidly
but will not join in
we mark time
the bones of my mind
When the hermit crab
outgrows its shell
it can no longer live and must venture
outside
finding some new space to live in...
Chinese women used to wrap their feet
in cloth that bound.
Their bones would shatter
their toes curl and snarl
in a desperate attempt to keep them small and
they could no longer walk
i wish never to
break the bones of my mind
for fear of trying on
new
shoes
This one was actually published in the Listener when they had their youth page...
lipstick
there is lipstick on my pillow
kiss-red
cherry-red
woven into the fibre
there are lipstick stains on my pillow
stark against the white
with a wild
fever-red
last-night-red
the colour of red wine
the lipstick on my pillow
is a secret smile
it is all for me and
my new pillow
is red
this one needs a good edit. *thoughtful*
Phew! More than I thought there. Huh, I need to go through my scratchbooks and see if I've left anything in them, too...
sexy
there’s a word for it:
bisexual
but no-one says it.
we twist our mouths away from it
pucker them up;
I call it
keeping my options open.
it’s not a word to be thrown about
I’m sick of it
a world of ambivalent half-way-house dancing
I’d rather just shout it out:
I
like
girls
but no I’m
50-50
“not terribly straight”
swinging both ways
bisexual;
I think I’m going to give up on it all
and just be sexy.
*giggling* That one's so daft it's funny. :P
rainsong
I’ve been reading
1,000,000,000
love poems
and I’m walking in the rain
grey sheeting down
over Karori and Wadestown
rain catches in my eyelashes
I turn my face up
open my mouth
catching drops like
every other teenager pretending
to be younger than
she really is
dancing in the rain
full of the lightning
words and voices
a million sighs
I’ve been reading about.
condensed into various haiku I may submit:
it rains and I am
ev’ry teenager to dance
younger than she is.
it rains and I dance
like all the teenagers I
am younger in rain
rain on my face and
I pretend to be younger
drop ages and dance
or
forget me and dance
let me down i said
and shook on the inside
flung myself wildly against the walls
collapsed on the floor and laughed at myself
my backbone on the carpet
of my bedroom
I reach out to the bars of my bed
grip them
curling my fingers about
dance/love/dance
here is the secret of loving
in this careful elegant
confident
dance
i can see beginning
just over there
although they are on the other side of the room
everyone
can see what’s happening
perhaps she will lead
a delicate courtesy
&he will bow/take her hand
it is her firstdance
step on the strange floor
and she will pirouette and
arabesque
for him alone
for her he will do a thousand and one high kicks
and jeté across the floor forevermore
they’re moving faster now
to the beat of breathing
a stomp-stamp
CLAP
to latin rhythms
they feel so good.
in the full accelerando/
crescendo ali(o)ve
this is the dance-at-the-wedding
but also at the divorce
this is the messy break up
and the messier making up
i’ve seen it all before
i know the rhythms
the moves
so do they
it is implicit in our make up
it is the dance we all watch
most avidly
but will not join in
we mark time
the bones of my mind
When the hermit crab
outgrows its shell
it can no longer live and must venture
outside
finding some new space to live in...
Chinese women used to wrap their feet
in cloth that bound.
Their bones would shatter
their toes curl and snarl
in a desperate attempt to keep them small and
they could no longer walk
i wish never to
break the bones of my mind
for fear of trying on
new
shoes
This one was actually published in the Listener when they had their youth page...
lipstick
there is lipstick on my pillow
kiss-red
cherry-red
woven into the fibre
there are lipstick stains on my pillow
stark against the white
with a wild
fever-red
last-night-red
the colour of red wine
the lipstick on my pillow
is a secret smile
it is all for me and
my new pillow
is red
this one needs a good edit. *thoughtful*
Phew! More than I thought there. Huh, I need to go through my scratchbooks and see if I've left anything in them, too...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-02-07 08:11 am (UTC)Lipstick is really great apart from the "secret smile" bit - really overused two words...
no subject
Date: 2005-02-07 08:46 am (UTC)and this one...
let me down i said
and shook on the inside
flung myself wildly against the walls
collapsed on the floor and laughed at myself
my backbone on the carpet
of my bedroom
I reach out to the bars of my bed
grip them
curling my fingers about
*is deeply moved*
no subject
Date: 2005-02-07 10:55 pm (UTC)So lovely. :DDD
Rysade
Date: 2005-02-09 07:11 am (UTC)Dance/Love/Dance is an interesting metaphor, of sorts.
poems
Date: 2005-02-10 03:30 am (UTC)Me here. I do like your poems. Much better than my "Woe, extended metaphor, simile,swearword, WOE."
Loved,
"there’s a word for it:
bisexual
but no-one says it."
Noice.
Re: poems
Date: 2005-02-10 04:53 am (UTC)Heh, thanks.