6.
In written words ,
all
melts away.
***
7.
A million times a day
my heart calls your name.
***
MicroPoems Ep. 2
Future
MicroPoems Ep. 1
1.
Blushing rose
we exchanged tender gazes,
our eyes
reflecting a young amour
***
2.
I write this month’s ultimate poems,
swinging in ecstatic melancholy;
as I recall this month
where my pen became keys
***
3.
Velvet’s Peace
Past midnight,
come the hours of calm.
Where the ether is still,
still enough to see its reflection.
Minds and fingers twitch,
the heady rush of this world’s
many tempting deaths, abandoning reality,
in return to the cold sobriety of the bedroom ceiling.
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.
The University of
Read wide and vast,
adventure and explore,
speaking slow
though thoughts move fast.
Drink red wine
and tequila too,
sitting with minds intertwined,
allowing peace’s pass.
Debate the world flaws
shimmer in ideal’s gleam,
reconstructing this world
as if in an idealist’s dream.
Fail
and succeed,
recieve an education,
not a degree.
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.
Bay Window
Dabs of white silk insulate us from the summers sun's glow. As I, legs akimbo s t r e t c h upon my bed. Yellow sheets kicked to a hill at my feet. The walls yellow and the winter throw too. A petit Sri Lankan Buddha perched on the sill clocks this summer's air.
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 