Immortal

I’m tired of writing poems, I’d rather write

A flaming melody to make men dance.

I’m tired of staying home, someday I might

Expend my efforts on a half mad chance.

 

I’m tired of reading books, I’d rather read

Men’s minds; even the parts they haven’t seen.

I’m tired of bleeding blood, I’d rather bleed

Pure love; until physicians intervene.

I’m tired of leading men, I’d rather lead

An angel army wielding starlight keen.

I’m tired of needing men, I’d rather need

The North and South and everything between.

 

I’m tired of breathing air, I think perhaps

I’ll breathe pure gold until my lungs collapse.

(Sick of My) English Assignment

Stop analyzing, my gosh;

it’s not a blood type or a

Sudoku puzzle, it’s a time to take a break

and just drink it in,

enjoying a sliver of communal soul.

When I Am Old and All Alone

When I am old and all alone

I’ll pull your letter from a drawer

And see you gold and taut with youth,

Though sure you must be grey and poor.

 

I’ll pull your letter from a drawer,

And rake it like a desperate lover,

And laugh to read “my sweetest friend”—

And wonder if you still think of her.

 

And see you gold and taut with youth

With me beside you, slim and white;

Hot words between us, chasming,

Though I was bright, and you were bright.

 

Though sure you must be grey and poor,

By now forgotten and unknown,

I’ll pull your letter from a drawer

When I am old and all alone.

 

*I think I may have invented a new word. Just for clarification, “chasming” means to create a chasm, as in “Let’s get some dynamite and go chasming”; or to become full of chasms, as in “Then the giant hopped up and down and the earth started chasming.”

I Would Like to Live in May

I would like to live in May,

Watch the apple blossoms sway.

Soft through copses make my way

To green fields; and then I’ll lay,

Then I’ll lay, then I’ll lay, then I’ll lay there

With the sun in my mouth and the grass in my hair.



This poem copies the form used in Ariel's Song, from The Tempest (Act V, Scene I) by William Shakespeare. It's a cheerful, summer song, and made me think of sunshine; prompting my own lively poem about spring.