poetry critical

online poetry workshop

larger thoughts

Stray but a little and we might sink
Ice burns the surface of my hands
But your tears fix things temporarily
If we should get serious, promise me that
Breakfast will be quiet
If we laugh for longer than they expect
Maybe the blue will last till the start
How many stories have we torn together?
We many cuts have we nursed together? If we just hush through the film
Maybe they wont see
And we can breathe twice
What if we got together for one more Wednesday
And threw stones at the gate till we slept
Looked down at the moon and howled like lovers
Held fingers and hugged like brothers
If your mother makes it, maybe she’ll cry
If your cousin recovers, maybe he’ll try
If the family body can beat like it should
maybe the frost on the noses of trees will wilt into autumn air
if blank paper turns to pink
and skies from their world burn to blue
if writers from beneath can tell our tale
bedtime may live on until we’re dust
if fathers could listen
while daughters learn
if nature understood the dreams of synth
and birds could stop to watch us walk
dull hail from foreign countries
Smile’s that used to be memories
Friends that changed their skin
Just to shake hands with the dollar
Guns that disagreed
Wars that had nightmares
People upon people crushed for a glimpse
Films that explained nothing
Music that writes a life of it’s own
Numbers that count the least until summer turns us around
kings that lied
chairs that broke
pages melt from here to black
bottles crush where marble failed
child of gold proved true for one
but time is short as tears run red
Rain outside but windows shut
Table set for less than 3
Journeys west with steam on high
Missed the chance to say goodbye
Smell the day through tears and words
Muddled friends split from wood
Tulips torn like broken bread
Inspire the marriage, back to bed
Phone’s unhooked and love left white
Stop to shout and change her mind
Squares from someone else’s mind
walls from years left damp and green
homeless worries, strike the bar
charge our glasses, remember the colours
since clouds forgot and waves rode high
petals pull through neon skies
drunk from then but writing now
signing off

25 Jun 07

(define the words in this poem)

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