Look up!
My childhood dreams
are floating in the sky,
hovering beside the moon,
holding the edge of a falling star;
any minute now,
they’ll come tumbling down
like a shower of fireflies
and turn into a ball of ash
when they land.
2010 Helena Malheur
Monday, December 27, 2010
the irony of venting my mind
Expert I am of my feelings and
I have mastered their release;
but the great irony of venting my mind
in search of catharsis
is like opening a window to air out a stuffy house
and inadvertently letting in a burglar
to steal my most prized possession:
my sanity!
2010 Helena Malheur
I have mastered their release;
but the great irony of venting my mind
in search of catharsis
is like opening a window to air out a stuffy house
and inadvertently letting in a burglar
to steal my most prized possession:
my sanity!
2010 Helena Malheur
Sunday, December 12, 2010
I breathe it in
I found it waiting for me
by the side of the road,
hovering over yellow grass
and patches of snow
peppered on the mountains beyond
and the valleys below--
the peace that left me years ago--:
I breathe it in like the crisp air and
let it pull me closer to the horizon's peak.
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One Stop Poetry picture prompt challenge.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The World Lays Silent
Shipwrecked by the seductive lull of greed’s sirens,
the world lays silent, face down, on a rocky shore
deserted by kindness. Its corrupted heart is
cracked open, leaking conscience into the sea,
quenching a crimson moon thirsty for bloodshed.
It slumbers, covered in perpetual night,
immune to the piecing rays of humanity’s light
till even the sun admits defeat, powerless
against the indolence of a narcoleptic world;
its paralyzed under a shaded tree rooted in ignorance,
indifferent to hungry children watering the earth
with tear drops, and deaf to the virtuous songs of
good-willed men and the wakening cries of mourning.
Helena Malheur 2010
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This is an old one but thought I'd submit it to:
immune to the piecing rays of humanity’s light
till even the sun admits defeat, powerless
against the indolence of a narcoleptic world;
its paralyzed under a shaded tree rooted in ignorance,
indifferent to hungry children watering the earth
with tear drops, and deaf to the virtuous songs of
good-willed men and the wakening cries of mourning.
Helena Malheur 2010
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This is an old one but thought I'd submit it to:
One Shot Wednesday: week23 at One Stop Poetry - Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Love Song's Serenade
I’ve gone with you to places I’ve invented
and ones I’ve seen in dreams; I’ve written plays
with lines we’ll rehearse when I sleep.
I’ve strolled with you in sunlit meadows,
danced with you under a moonlit night;
I've kissed you a thousand times, and
heard you call me “my love” at least twice.
I’ve leapt into your arms, felt your cupped palms
on my face, sensed your fingers tangling
in my hair; and I’ve listened to your love song’s
serenade, all while never having left this room.
2010 Helena Malheur
and ones I’ve seen in dreams; I’ve written plays
with lines we’ll rehearse when I sleep.
I’ve strolled with you in sunlit meadows,
danced with you under a moonlit night;
I've kissed you a thousand times, and
heard you call me “my love” at least twice.
I’ve leapt into your arms, felt your cupped palms
on my face, sensed your fingers tangling
in my hair; and I’ve listened to your love song’s
serenade, all while never having left this room.
2010 Helena Malheur
Written for Poetry Potluck (Week 13, Dreams, Visions, And Reveries)
Above sketch (Daydreaming Woman) by Jed Steen
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NOTE: I've changed the line breaks after a comment with which I agreed...
Sunday, December 5, 2010
In love
IN LOVE
His mouth
Moves around
Her neck, sending shivers
Over her body, her heart quivers
In love
=============================
=============================
DOORWAYS
Mouths
Mouths
Supple, round
Searching, wondering, feeling
Steal hearts and air
Steal hearts and air
Doorways
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Above photography by Lisa Michelle Arhontidis
Her photos and wonderful interview can be found at One Stop Poetry
These are my first attempts at a cinquain for One Stop Poetry -- picture prompt challenge! Thought I would write two different styles of them -- "Doorways" had been removed earlier but thought I should re-post it.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
just being here
i wondered if i was numb
as i laid nestled
in the curve of your arm,
breathing the air you expelled,
your parted lips shaped in a half smile;
and for a moment,
i believed i could understand why
you looked so content
just being here.
if only i could be here with you,
in this moment,
forgetting all the chaos
that distorts the world when we wake
and makes things raw again,
i would be free.
but i am here
rummaging through
the drawers of my mind,
looking for a veil large enough to
conceal the ocean of insecurities
churning behind my eyes,
and still wondering why
you looked so content
just being here.
2010 Helena Malheur
as i laid nestled
in the curve of your arm,
breathing the air you expelled,
your parted lips shaped in a half smile;
and for a moment,
i believed i could understand why
you looked so content
just being here.
if only i could be here with you,
in this moment,
forgetting all the chaos
that distorts the world when we wake
and makes things raw again,
i would be free.
but i am here
rummaging through
the drawers of my mind,
looking for a veil large enough to
conceal the ocean of insecurities
churning behind my eyes,
and still wondering why
you looked so content
just being here.
2010 Helena Malheur
Mirror by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
whispers of fidelity
I did not utter a single word,
yet you knew my silence
more than I knew your love.
You stayed in that gloomy den
awaiting daylight while sifting
through the masks and guises
I wore; I was a naked stalk
covered in a stone shell,
afraid to bear fruit --
till your eyes’ whispers of
fidelity cast out the fleshless fear
and doubt dwelling in my heart.
2010 Helena Malheur
2010 Helena Malheur
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NOTE: Thank you for taking the time to stop by my blog. I'd appreciate it if you could leave a comment, but make it an honest one; I am not fragile. I'd like some constructive criticism if you can oblige, since I am trying to better the quality of my writing.
One Shot Wednesday: week22 at One Stop Poetry - Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet.
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