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A Subtle DanceDusk falls with burgundy tears,
the glimmering of old chandeliers.
Frost collides with mercury light,
setting the scene of the night.

Amour is expressed within a song,
a ballad to move our bodies along.
The sensation of a silken gown
twirls with the sonorous sound.

A hint of perfection in your eyes
embraces the world in gentle sighs,
as fragments of ice melt into lace,
and velvet roses slip into place.

Another second of endless desire
envelops our hearts in silver fire.
A winter solstice oh so blessed,
a moment to never be repressed.
Our Single DropThe raindrops patter on the back porch pane
To leave soft streams in their wake.
Rivulets so reminiscent run down,
Rivulets that some forsake.

As they race along the long glass window,
They can't see what they expend.
They travel the distance with fervid speed,
Though they wish not for its end.

They twist and turn on this short-lived path,
Never staying straight for long.
And while some will fade only halfway through,
Other raindrops will hold strong.

A tranquil puddle at the bottom forms
As the drops begin to pool.
I dip my hand in the miniature bath
And am woken with the cool.

It jolts nearly every sense alive;
I breathe deep to take it
How the Phelps Failed His MissionEveryone
In the U.S.
Were a glad lot…

But the Phelps
Who lived in eastern Kansas,
Was NOT!

The Phelps loathed gays! The gay population!
Now, please don’t ask why. There is just speculation.
He might have seen them as a social deviance.
It could be he had a gay experience.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that bitter hate had consumed him all.

But,
Whatever the reason,
The past or his hate,
He stood in his Kansas home, very irate.
Staring down from his sofa, with a sour, Phelps glare
At the love and tolerance that lighted the air.
For he knew every person in the country there
Was living and let live
KitesSilent tyrant of the sky
Mind your obscure earthly string,
Though you accrue heaven's eye
Look oh rook, on what you cling.

Betwixt, unfixed the prairie cloud,
Above in love your brethren sing,
In gleam, they dream as diamonds proud
Which gown his crown; the golden king.

Chase the grace of cosmic joy,
Wild that child of crimson lust,
Rave, yet save his fury's toy;
Mirth in birth in truth is trust.

In time, to climb the sail does pine,
Despite its flight, or ambits crossed;
Uncrossed, now tossed, your cords entwine
And all the squall in bond is lost.
A Small Cafe at MidnightA small cafe at midnight
is not where I should be,
dozing off in my seat
and drinking sugary coffee.

"Is this seat taken?" I hear,
and I glance up to see
the gorgeous face of a young woman.
She wants to sit with me?!

Dark brown curls are cascading
down her shoulders and back,
and her bright blue eyes shine
with the light that this place lacks.

"Go ahead and sit," I say,
but I am still confused.
Why would she sit here
with a guy like me? I muse.

A cup of coffee in her hand,
she smiles a tiny grin.
I gaze along with wonder
at her hair, her eyes, her skin...

This girl is truly perfect,
so why is she with me?
She's even talking and smiling;
If I Could Take Your TearsIf I could say 'I love you'
If your heart were free
If you could see beyond blue
Then maybe you'd see me
But life and love are tangled
Hearts weave complex webs
Broken dreams are cradled
And live inside our heads
So from afar I watch you
Love silent in my heart
Unspoken words a virtue
Though they echo in the dark
Your laugh and smile I treasure
Your kindly words I'l store
And in innocence find pleasure
Sweet soul that I adore
And if perchance you see me
Discern the love I hide
Would rising passion free thee
To sail on sweeter tides?
CloserBreath on my neck,
Cheek against mine,
Lips on my shoulder,
A shiver down my spine.

Arms around bodies,
That beg to be close.
Lips that don’t touch,
But are closer than most.

Just on the edge,
Of more than mere friends,
Walking the line,
Praying it never ends.

Holding each other,
And feeling at home,
Before letting go,
And going home all alone.
Lipsss
I found myself quiet a few times
Discovering your picture with my fingertips
And everytime without knowing
My finger stopped at your beautiful lips
Like perfectly crafted rubies
They are red, pure and glassy
Placed togather in a form of smile
Full of life and intents, sassy
Like your face is an vast ocean
Long lost were the two ships
Meant to meet at a certain point
In the form of your cherry lips
Like I was in a hot, dry desert
Dying of thirst, without water
But I found the red oasis
And I drank from your lips, the nectar
Like red the color of love
Affiliation, affection and compassion
Red the color of danger and warning
But its hard to r
First dateI won't say goodnight,
I won't say goodbye,
I'll kiss you once more and remember your sigh.
Your taste and your touch will imbed in my mind,
mixed with words that you shared which were touching and kind.
From the way that you moved or reached out for my hand,
to how making the simplest of things feel so grand.
Yes this date lit my heart just as bright as the moon
but I won't say goodnight I'll just say "see you soon".
Four A.M. Thoughts of YouThe clock read four A.M. in the morning,
And soon the sun will be adorning
The sky with the cheerful rays of its dawning
But I'm not even yawning.

I find myself with nothing to do
But feed myself with thoughts of you;
Replaying memories both old and new
As the sky took on a lighter hue.

The sky was suddenly set ablaze,
Clawing me from my dreamy haze
Into the daily morning craze—
Isn't life a never-ending maze?
Fingerprints of Simple LoveLingering…
Whispering that it was there,
It was real,
It was not a dream.
Electrified with the memory,
But calm,
So calm and serene,
Meaningful and simple.
The fingerprints of care and love.
Laying on my skin…

On my Cheeks,
My neck,
My forehead,
My hands..
The prints of your kisses,
Your sweet and innocent little kisses.
Our SheetsSoft kisses under sheets
where skin and warmth meets.
Relaxed inside and out to reach
from head, to the toes on my feet.

Quick glances and long stares,
neither of us wanting to go anywhere.
Perfectly happy staying right there.
What’s outside? To look we don’t dare.

You exhale and I breathe in
warm air, life of a friend.
Better than anywhere we’ve ever been.
Under sheets the light stays dim.

Lip to lip, just barely a flutter to me.
Sweet, warm and light instantly
seared to my heart like a memory.
Nothing could happen more perfectly.

Heartbeats soothe us to sleep.
Rhythmic secrets we swore to keep.
It’s easy when you
Lunar LoveThe Lunar Eye plays peeping tom
To the poet pair that sit below
And the stars are buried by their glow
Which lingers till the girl is gone
He sits while she talks on and on
And never thinks to stop her voice
Alone among all men he is her choice
To while away the time and share birdsong.

In sleeping time, by small degrees
His flaws become all that she sees
And his love cannot go so far
Her eyes wander to what pleases
Her form, she mocks and leaves
And his sallow soul is sinking like a star.
DifferencesHe holds my hand
From across the bed,
While your memory whispers,
In my ear.
You are a ghost,
Inside my head,
But him...
He's really here.

He does not say a word,
But actions make their promises.
You speak in strings of verb and noun,
No truth among the sound.
He waits so patiently,
His heart it walks the premises.
Your memory pounds at the door,
Much less than honor bound.

He presses lips into a line,
Keeping the anger within.
You press your lips up to mine,
Pouring all your hatred in.
Love SonnetLove Sonnet

Hug me til' I'm broken.
Kiss me til' I scream.
Hold me when I'm crying,
and love me even in my dreams.
Tell me you'll never leave me,
even though I know it may not be true.
Although it may be a lie,
I couldn't bear to ever lose you.
Talk with me til' I'm sleepy.
Spoon me til' I wake.
Be there at my side
for every breath I take.
Because even though I know that we may never be a pair,
You mean the world to me, and my life is here for you to share.
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More from ~HauntingLogistics

I love you.I am not myself these days;
I find myself, more and more,
 in the fog of window panes and the
  cold, misty morning air.

I am not myself these days;
I lose myself, more and more,
 in the way light catches off
  certain clouds of sunset: prisms.

What is different?
 I love walks in the park,
clichéd as that may be,
 and I enjoy the taste of the rain.

What else is different?
  I am not willing, try as I might,
to accept or acknowledge that
  the sins of my ancestors reflect in me.

Of course, this is all since I met you.

  I wish, sometimes,
 to feel less like a piano,
and more like a harpsichord that
only you know how t
Time to change.Where did you sleep last night?

With old trees and little lakes,
because somedays,
the best we can do is pretend
it's a small world.

Entering meditation,
the verb: to dream
about happiness
and sleeping with butterflies.
Tanganyika1.
Your naïve welcome
and medical maroon;
temperature tolerance.

2.
Speckled religion,
rituals of life and death;
viscous blood taboo.

3.
A band of crimson,
ancient June in the desert;
the opulent ivory.

4.
Patient and scarlet,
sacredly perpetual,
masks a ladybug.

5.
Flitting acceptance,
powerful saffron and myrrh,
a tribal countenance.
what we need mostby dolan grey

i.
blue skies overhead, and
the seagulls come in
from the bay, looking for some
better nourishment
than can be found
at sea.

ii.
i came in from the field,
seeking shelter and
solace
from the burning sun.

you greeted me in the doorway,
brown eyes and brown hair.

iii.
we're the same,
those gulls and i,
thermals lifting us up,
hot wind,
our concentric lives
bringing us back to

what we need most.
twenty-four of four (plus three)by dolan grey

i.
the slipping of one's mind
like a sheaf of paper,
blown away,
leaves one grasping for the wind.

ii.
pen and ink
are not always
necessary
when one writes in blood.

iii.
shall i sing songs
of war, love, gods,
when the pettiness of conflict
is embedded in our hearts?

iv.
waters that flow
freely
are as much a gift as
uninterrupted thoughts.

v.
peace
...
can not last
...

vi.
we wait always
for the bells to ring
chiming the hour of
another's demise.

vii.
it has always been
that on still nights
a man must speak
to interrupt the silence.

viii.
tracks of tears,
like tributaries,
feed only a greater
sorrow.

ix.
lesser men,
cr
Through the fire and the flamesby Dolan Grey

Snow falls, this morning;
daybreak.
Even these early rays of light
seem deadly, piercing to us.

Night falls, this evening;
darkness.
Even the laughter of our children
sounds wicked, awful.

Battles, small and large,
through marshes and marches,
send the spirits of the slain
through shadows, to the sea.

Riding on the steppes
watching the dark towers,
we know they go through flames, too.

So now we rise up,
liberated by the elements,
towards whatever trials await,
our journey only just begun.

Behind the sun,
behind the stars,
below the surface of the moon; our souls --

Distanced, time ticks on
for the souls of the dead;
we

Featured in Groups:

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Poetry - it's all you need. :iconlooselacespoetry: #LooseLacesPoetry
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Calling all Originals!

Details

January 25
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to sophia

:iconhauntinglogistics:

a cento by dolan grey

when by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,
till blues & sorrow song,
no fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
an anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young--

of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
runoff, pitch-black, from the rivers of Psalms,
a gleaming glassy ocean,
as silent as pictures on the wall.

but when the crowing syrens blare,
it's as if the rain
and the sky came down,
its guardian grasp on blood and brain.

the ghastly clouds of yonder skies
compare thus to your love;
torrents of your miseries,
rained on me from above.

a quiet akin to ruins--
the ghosts swarm.
the ghost that was myself--
it joined other spirits exhaled before dawn.
:iconhauntinglogistics:
This is a cento!

Here are the credits:

The Apparition by John Donne
Blue Dementia by Yusef Komunyakaa
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Lenore by Edgar Allen Poe

My hero bares his nerves by Dylan Thomas
Epitaph by Eric Pankey
Haunted Seas by Cale Young Rice
Haunted Houses by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Shadwell Stair by Wilfred Owen
Rain by Claribel Alegria
Something Whispered in the Shakuhachi by Garrett Hongo
Low Barometer by Robert Bridges

to sophia by dolan grey

To the Trespasser by David Barber
Unbidden by Rae Armantrout
All Hallows Night by Lizette Woodworth Reese
Red String by Minnie Bruce Pratt

Tell me what you think.
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:iconjunete:
~junete Jan 25, 2013
It's a Cento! A Cento is a poem composed of lines that are taken from many poems and then mixed about to make a new creation. There is another form which you might like, the Oulipo. It involves using maths to substitute certain nouns for others in a poem of your choosing.
I realize you didn't know that you were making a Cento but I'm ridiculously happy to see this form here. It seems that not many people create them. I really like it :)
Reply
:iconhauntinglogistics:
~HauntingLogistics Jan 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Well thank you! I have another one somewhere. I felt accomplished after writing that one... And thanks for the fav. :)
Reply
:iconjunete:
~junete Jan 25, 2013
You're welcome! You should feel accomplished, some people might think that writing a Cento is easy but it is actually quite difficult; things have to be ordered just so to convey the intended meaning. Although I love them, I have never been able to create one that I thought was good enough to share :lol:
Reply
:iconhauntinglogistics:
Mood: Zest ~HauntingLogistics Jan 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Well! I used a basic concept (ghost) and tried to rhyme lines that I thought were interesting, then a form and subject took shape. It took the greater majority of an afternoon, but I did enjoy it.
Reply
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