Sunday, February 01, 2015

ode to a broken heart

It's broken: I learned
It hurts: I cry

Sitting in the Kazakh sunshine hungry for vitamin D in temperatures so cold outdoors they murder my spirit after dark. I remember you joking about my bird's nest haircut; taking the piss out my contemporary-hippy hairstyle.

 I missed you today, similar to past days, yet time is healing aloe on the brittle sunburn of a broken love.

 The sound of your voice mocking the BBC- the voice of gravitas; My head on your naked chest wondering how that irregular heartbeat of yours kept you alive day by day, beat by beat.

 The "I have diabetes" prelude before stuffing a doublewide Bounty chocolate bar in your mouth.

 Your muscled bum which you attributed to cycling in your youth clad in black long johns firm and round to the touch.

 The kind and caring things you did for me like lending me your flashlight for the dark descent to my apartment. 

  Neighbors: Lovers 

 Making fish finger sandwiches and your hallowed toaster: giver of life to breakfast. You in the kitchen; me arms around your waist. Laughter.

 The warmth of your skin; your upbeat and humorous approach to awkward situations; and your damn British accent.

I still miss you. 

Saturday, January 17, 2015

2015 January: Broad City

Sofa Poems 

I have so many goals and visions for 2015, grandiose milestones life may or may not grant, but listening to poetry is appropriate for a Sunday afternoon on the sofa.

A kiss would do it.

One sprinkle of milkwhite salt

and I'll break like bread at your table.

- From "Grassland" by Sarah Sloat: First appeared in The Rose and Thorn

Moving Poems

The Poetry Storehouse 

About Me

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What do I do? That’s a question with more depth than the deceiving three-word construction would lead us to believe.

I live on planet earth with other folks, and I’m involved in the field of education and learning. I’m a life-long learner with a passion for knowledge and the process of bending bits of ideas into new constructions of beauty.