Isn’t that all of it,
to reach up to the sun
with fists filled with golden sand,
the hot grains fleeing through the cracked clasp,
and for the sun’s shine to be
silvered by the passing
moods of the earth.
All of it
Bonds
MicroPoems Ep.5
21.
In your eyes
I see, that those presented
as most strong, are those
most complicit in deceit.
***
22.
Who controls what we think?
Sometimes I tell myself
I do
***
23.
I’m trapped again,
stuck to your sweet voice,
your whispered honeydew words
leaving a brilliant sheen
in my bronze eyes.
***
24.
I await your lips
in water’s reprieve,
arrhythmic heart trembling
within my sleeve.
***
25.
I could have died,
left
alone
in your heart.
*****
MicroPoems Ep. 4
16.
I always play to place,
in face
of the insurmountable weights,
tugging
from yesterday.
***
17.
Encased in crystal drops,
within home’s walls, I part,
donning an upturned eye,
yearning through these waters
in search of you.
***
18.
I await your lips
in water’s reprieve,
arrhythmic beats, trembling
within my sleeve.
***
19.
I freeze
to the thought of leaving;
dreading a return
to your parted presence.
***
20.
I want the world to be empty,
filled by just us two.
***
MicroPoems Ep. 3
11.
Making the strings sing
relieves me of all pain.
***
12.
In bed, and again
my mind spills,
leaving
only thoughts of you.
***
13.
Time ticks
away, the seconds pass
you’re drawn ever closer.
Friday.
***
14.
Each time you come in,
you destroy all there before.
***
15.
Staccato messages swapped,
a nod to our natural tide
retreating from a false-love’s lust.
MicroPoems Ep. 2
6.
In written words ,
all
melts away.
***
7.
A million times a day
my heart calls your name.
***
SU
An alternate version of the poem “Union”.
For those I spent time with at the IOE.
*****
Our time dims twilight as our course draws to a close.
We forecasted a spring never-ending, sharing in optimistic lies, wishing on an unlikely future forever together.
Though together we have blossomed into a family.
15:04
My eyes finally prized open.
The judgmental clock face
shows me pm, and half a day
unconscious departed.
The morning now purely theoretical,
the sun half way passed,
before I’ve spoken my first word,
or taken my morning coffee
As a newborn, blanketed in last night’s haven
I stroll,
through the social threads
of this already passed morning.
PhD
He’s accomplished nothing,
his life a watered downs success,
a “skidder” was it?
His hands filled and emptied
in times unrelenting passing.
The smartest man in the room
-the pin his satin lapel sports.
A cut glass vernacular
affected by a crude Kingstonian drawl.
He amongst his Muji décor,
pours Oolong tea in a sole cup.
His community an artificial complex
continuing his saga of solitary emancipation.
J.C. FitzDerick 