Woman Appreciation

i still love you as
we are, not missing any
thing of how i luv ed;
what you said’s my love
and what i said’s my luv, seem s
to’ve been nil/nix close;
seems is but word, verbed
simulated/me…

Cannot you
See that I am
Open to thee and that to
Abuse
Is to lower
Yourself to that of a
Gnat and to lose the
One goodness that you
Had…

The weaver sits at her
Loom. The
Threads fine silk. The
Colours tell of
Baby’s breath and
Mother’s milk.
Time is
Set aside.
Sense of
Self forgotten. There is a
Story to be
Told…

I’m sitting in a colourful cafe on Queen Street…

yes i have not stopped
watching venus rise out words
become daily prayers
.
juddarwin

as; like the muse i
knew: no, used to read of
even if long after I
could read only wordsworth
as though but he, worthwhile;
like i did that juliet kid &
ophelia’s hamlet, without
moving elsewh…

Of sunshine i dream
when thoughts of You
enter my head

suddenly

without warning

working, i see You
in a field
Namaqualand daisies
Your carpet
You spinning
giddy
laughing BEAUTIFULLY

NO bird could sing the s…

he slayed the dragon
without a sword or blade
the dragon that was festering
in her heart
the dragon that grew in size
from all the lies and betrayal
she suffered in her life
one kiss…those three word…

the ragged girl
walks up the steps
of the
theatre with dirt-stained
feet, her bare
flesh
on the stone
like the slap of wet
fish.
briefly she listens at the
door’s narrow
crack; then, hearing only mu…

As come visions to us, mobile,
then arranging into ranks/lines
like alpha beta arranged lines

you don’t see me grow from under your feet,
just sneaking up sideways and up, over
any way that light also can; moisture
and air… you feel but dampness but along
that other fungus, you don’t see;…

In this moment, society’s isolation strikes
me. I am alone, like a bird
peppered from its flock in flight, now
dropped ashore to forever wander aimlessly.

At the center of life is a vacant
chamber, an …

“is soo terribly well written…,”
must have been written to pattern
because i felt myself going thru’ all the stages again
being where the poem’s end leaves/left me probably
because that’s how it happens…

Oh no, you can’t come out.
Go back inside and wait.
You’ll make me say or do
something, I am going to hate.
Please don’t come out
when people are here.

She is the sunshine that burns
When my dead eyes are reborn

She is the sunshine that burns
When my dead eyes are reborn

If you must mask yourself or play pitiful to appear appealing,
acceptable, accessible, what happens, then,
when the authentic self appears?

I make a wish for bright green licorice