Welcome to Gaia! ::

The heading lists three themes I often find myself revisiting when I let my mind wander, so they will likely appear often throughout the work I post here, when I post here (which probably won't be that often sweatdrop ). I wrote up a few seasonal things a few days ago and thought I may as well put them up, since I haven't figured out how to work out other angles for writing quite yet. I tend to be very slow when it comes to business sense. Or any sense outside of working, really. sweatdrop

Enough chatter. Here's the table of contents thus far:
-"December Condensed" (or "Before The New Year")
-"January Angel"
-"February Vigil"
-"November Reasons"
-"March"
-"At The Window: Tomato Soup"
-"Sakura Sky"
-"The Story Thus Far (Limited Mix)"

Commentary is welcome. ^.^

"January Angel"

An angel in snow
Hollow, lonesome, path-pocked
By passing players

Silk sun strands stretch slow
Into her printed skull
And are hair - her lips the shade
Of racing thought nearby.

What money?
I have none, sir, to take.
If you should want her,

You shall need to stay.
Carry on a bed longer -
Wings will on their way.

"November Reasons"

I look a third time tonight:
her lides yet closed watch
nothing at an eternal run with
seat reserved; lips too near to
touch leave their taste
inked into my memory; breath for
breath, touch for touch,
we lie and lie greatly
overjoyed and -stuffed by
humor and life alike.
Still the scent of hours
spent at table peel up
for my draw upon her hair.
As every year, many.

(Posted elsewhere in a writing contest, wanted to include it here. The contest rules included a list of words that may not be used, along with the restriction that no pronouns other than "it" were permissible. I couldn't resist the challenge. ^.^)

"At The Window: Tomato Soup"

"Did a sound...?"

Unanswered, the question lingers for a time,
blinking firefly uncertainty
curling all attention in flight
around lilies white upon the banks

alight (afire with countless trivialities equal to catch an eye)
upon a thin stalk to rest
for only a short while.
A shiver then, beneath

louse-paper layers
never have before attended
such studies or so many voluminous
passages like never before
this mind thought to see
with all its skull-wound eyes
springing through a brass encasement -

only takes one improper screw
to pop the shell
and every gear runs pell-mell for freedom.
"Again, that sound, spinning

in the distance...?" Still,
with straight intentions shown
the deepest of white eyes
in rapid butterflies' winking,

even to soundless song,
no reply. A shrug, and
carry on without investigation -
never knowing what crystallized decision makes
in never having taken that third step
around the shelf.

(Don't mind this one - it's mostly just here for the moment so I don't lose track of it on its way to wherever I decide to put it in storage.)

"The Story Thus Far (Limited Mix)"

Christening existence - simulate a distance
Between
Sustaining subsistence and being alive.

Here's a special flower wilting on the hour
Beneath
Bodies smelling sour while the price is right.

Where's the justice? Where's purification?
What's the station to call for all the details on a catastrophic
Fall from grace into a crowded room
Illuminated to a gloom by every instance that the sky
Won't open up and hear our voices as we--

Knowing that omniscience rests within a vicious
Disease,
Festering putrescence making life a lie

If the lady's dowry sneaks through as a salary,
A lease
To keep a voice from loudly calling questions high...

Where's the justice? Where's purification?
When the gods create the gall to drop us freely through a catastrophic
Fall from grace into a crowded room
Illuminated to a gloom by every instance that the sky
Won't open up to hear the ones who want to
Cry for justice and purification
Cry for some response more than a doll whose hollow voice denies our
Fall from grace into a quiet doom
Closing around us much too soon under the blackness of a sky
Closed down and deafened to our voices as we--...

Yay for critique at last! biggrin :infinitely joyed:

And for the record, I think I agree with your remarks. I also -love- the last line, especially, on that one. I so often find myself coming up with single lines or ideas in a poem that, to me, seems to far outshine the rest of the piece. Makes me feel bad for the little line. ^.^;