All posts tagged dVersepoets

we feast ~

we dine on words, sipping black, french pressed coffee
watching steam rise up from chipped cups (and metal grates)
dancing ghosts of urban alleys;

candles, waxy yellow, thickly rolled, flicker our shadows
against one wall, while blinking beacons to any passerby;

floating, whitened whispers, escape (smiling) bluing lips;
oblivious to dropping temperature (humbled) we watch
a box, the latest address, sway on the cross street;

no feast, to bless stomachs (not even ours); yet, greedily
we fill on sweet wine and marrow rich lies of poetry; spines
(wearily erect) waiting (thou not quite hungering) for
nature’s salt, and eden’s sugar, to lick wanting lips;

(hush, it’s midnight)

opening our shuttered world, we invite four special guests,
toasting each with brandied thickened drink, and this promise,
next year’s Christmas will be just as blessed ~

****************************
not a feast, but a humble offering, to Joy (Hedgewitch) & OLN @dVersepoets ~

(sidebar>>> I use my New Yorkers as scratch paper…the cover inspired
this impromptu, ergo, the picture of my ‘draft’, cheers ~ )

9 Comments
by angela on 2011/12/20  •  Permalink
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Posted by angela on 2011/12/20

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/12/20/we-feast/

broken ~

pardon me,
I beg your pardon, but can you spare another milk?
clear eyes barely glance mine (or is it me, not keeping),
absolutely, let me fetch you one;
another pair, twice as low:
can you make it two?

look at me (please) as I look at you,
for there is no division between our beings,
your road has become rocky (mine has blackened hard),
yet we share the same birth,
we stare at the same stars;

I AM just as lonely (I just got lucky),
faults swept under a mother’s wing
who refused to complete the self-destruction;

WE (you & me) remain under construction,
until God (or is it god) whispers
in that open ear, do not fear,
a “do-gooder” smile (said loosely)
is for real;

my wounds (like yours) are not healed,
let me serve you this meal (selfishly)
to help justify a complacent life, knowing
countless hearts roam, even more alone,
twice as broken ~

*********************
dVerse is offering a platform today to write a poem of thanks. This is my offering of gratitude. Inspired by my day serving at our downtown Jesus focused shelter. Although I am a wanderer in my faith, this place brings me to center after every time I volunteer. My holidays are blessed because of the people I meet and serve. ~

10 Comments
by angela on 2011/11/24  •  Permalink
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Posted by angela on 2011/11/24

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/11/24/broken/

searchlight ~

eluding, spoken feelings
get stuffed down with each
lick of frosted kiss; sugar
plums glaze these lips
icing them solid; no words form
just an inner body writhes

with animalistic energy ; veldts
sway under an African sun,
wild beasts’ pungent bodies
roaming with blood lust
sensing something more

will feed desire’s hunger; exhale,
lover drowns, your deft hand
pens them down to swim
in lucid, midnight dreaming,

flashing nightmares; a blackened
smile slick with disease, beyond godless (not a saint, nor a sinner)
you (the mystic) screams

i, did perhaps love, once, when I believed God
was not Man ~

***************************
Written last night as part of my NaNoWriMo storyline; submitted for OLN @dVerse Poetry Pub. Link up, Hedgewitch is hosting (no worries on the name, Joy is simply a brewer of poems within the natural realm) & she is quite the talent. ~

21 Comments
by angela on 2011/11/15  •  Permalink
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Posted by angela on 2011/11/15

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/11/15/searchlight/

Dive ~

Falling fast, barreling over
human waterfalls; gone green
not remembering coded scenes,
locks gone rusty, skeleton key
turns, turns,
breaks
disintegrates
damned corroded lust;

fire singed tattoo
marks heartbeat stopped,
rushing into icy waters,
burns licked too late;

dried off,
languid flesh gone,
warm pink skin again;
lash up a limb,
fashion ribbon and bone
into Icarian waxen dream;

blast off this jagged
precipice worn thin by
pacing soles to dark
matter’s searching rhythm,
dancing beneath moon shadows
ghosting liquid eyes;

he spied you waiting;

fly ~

free fall of this memory
wall; breathe; dive
into his starry night;

crashing just means
you died
into life,
anew~

3 Comments
by angela on 2011/08/10  •  Permalink
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Posted by angela on 2011/08/10

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/08/10/dive/

Guillaume ~


An artist for artist,
Surreal, he penned,
his new ism for the time;
Paris would be painted
differently, if he hadn’t spoke
of avant, splashing new art
across the guarded land.

A poet, a man, but a thief?
Six days accused by hate
but he, did not take her smile,
a coded mystery, da Vinci’s muse.

Guillaume Apollinaire,
not even in name, ordinary;
disguised to no one,
a lover of every one, if he
be an artist on the make.

Life’s wicked game,
belle epoque; gilded fame,
yet his golden breath
sucked away by plague,
a creative champion’s
lust for life, gone,
at age, thirty-eight.

**********************
This prompt was inspired by a wonderful feature hosted by Mark Kerstetter over at dVerse Poets. Mark highlights the art of G. de Chirico, who was quite influential as a Surreal artist on the Paris scene. In part, he got his fame from the poet, art critique, Guillaume Apollinaire. The above picture is a tribute to Apollinaire…in turn, as is my brief poem, which is a brief snippet into who Apollinaire was based on a book I own called, Apollinaire on Art.

6 Comments
by angela on 2011/08/07  •  Permalink
Posted in artist, poetry
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Posted by angela on 2011/08/07

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/guillaume/

Inside job -

Meltdown, turning wine into water,
selling a billion risks bottom dollar;
snake oil peddlers on Well St. lied,
no filtration system, full-on deregulation
a catastrophic burn from DC to NYC,
in reality, it’s all the same;

Sham – shame, 700 billion bailed balls rolling
down halls where the phones ringin’ echoes,
no one calls, all the greenbackers gone,
damned on the run, bullish clowns gone red;
no security, they guarantee, ING’s toy monkey
boxed, clanging cymbals while ‘vests went
dancing ‘round, chambers, our State under a rest;

Best? (ha!) not even united, we stand divided,
who cares about the brothers (or brooks) now;
deregulation ruled this country’s last elect,
he politicks, yet, the same inning plays, again;
the tailored suit up – Ben sent to bat,
Summers blowing sunshine into the umps

ear, yes sir, we’ve got your back; attack,
cancer spreading fast; perhaps, this will be
our last dance, the stars swept under rugs,
stripes gone too; now, what colour are you?

I lay me down to sleep, perchance to dream;
head drifting inside itself, a nightmare
fever scene: world catastrophe; this
disease, greed, takes hold till its host
destroys itself; dead, truly an inside job.

*************************
Inspired by Inside Job which truly sheds light on the firestorm that has Washington, aka WallStreet DC in flames tonight ~

Posted at dVerse poetry.

Sidebar~ I wrote this right after I turned off the film last night. A few things of note:

Obama said regulation and no more washington wall street, yet he hired back Ben Bernacke (sp) and Summers as key finance players despite their twisted ethics regarding conflict of interest and the Cdos.

The stars, aka rating system being discussed today is also conflicted.

Bottom line, watch this to see just how diseased our system is no matter what type of tea, coffee or pbr fills your cup.
Cheers~

22 Comments
by angela on 2011/07/26  •  Permalink
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Posted by angela on 2011/07/26

http://yellowhousecafe.wordpress.com/2011/07/26/inside-job/

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