crossbow

under the crust of the earth
something explodes
you smile with brittle charm
my fever for you is unbearable
rustle of the willows
scare away the scarecrows
strange it might be
but the piercing breeze does not lie
invisible wind blows you away
I know I should stop that but I do not

my fingers are covered with sheaths
while again something explodes
deep within me

"I know I am the target but don't quite know in what way"

healing power of the soul

Sick Woman, 1665, by Jan Steen

why is your pulse racing
why do you feel so lethargic
woman, what is wrong with you
you sweet face is so pale
you lie lifeless

I wish to heal you
a doctor in your time of need
yet I see fire in your eyes,
your vision darting everywhere
as if questing for something

that gives me hope
that death cannot take you away
you will fight all the way
this room is your shelter now
but you have a long way to go

I keep hearing you say
'how beautifully leaves grow old
yet I am so cold'
your words will give you warmth
I see it in your spirit

"nurturing the soul is everlasting,
you are doing just fine"

ambivalence

who scurries there, I ask
feeling of tenderness long dissipated
incense sticks help me in my prayers
with a dazed look
I sprinkle holy water every where
my ambivalence empties itself into fear
my breathing steadies itself
while I look under the flaps of envelops
to find a word or two from you

"in my blurred vision
I see only creative wasteland of my past
I will plant new saplings into future
while you see to the cobbled path of my new home"

lure of the impure

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman 

I long for you
in the fractured  links of my mind
thinking you would fill in the gaps
and mend the holes
wishful thinking on my part
you have been absent for so long

I blocked you out of my heart
fairly easy task
when one has a blockade
I don't believe in the adage
"sometimes you bend,
sometimes you break"

I hold the fork in my palm
clutch pain to myself
my soul burns infernally
with a mirrored effect on my body
I am not so sure of the lure of you
which is so impure

"I might rock, if my eyes stayed open
and I did not feel so drunk"

ash laden reality

Flying Down, 2006, by David Salle

spiral traps me
I am stuck to the wall
you will paint me with damp ash
I will hide in the corners before bolts lock me in
the bird climbed down to be with me
bundles of straw stuck to her wings
what remains of that storm
which you conjured in your imagination
evidence of it shook out that tiny plane

"do bring some husk to cover the smooth floor,
I am not going to last in the corner for long"

poeming with songs

why do you need sleep-
is it to dream?

waking eyes see the inner soul

only an open mind can fathom the depth.

sleep takes us to a bottomless pit of no escape

at least for me, at least for me.......

do you expect halcyon days of youth
to ease handling life,
the onus solely lies with you
the songs you sing will keep you awake

oh, you need sleep
to pursue dreams
closed eyes are the soul of conscious
a rested mind can plunge into deep emotions
sleep is that escape we need
now and then, now and then

"let me escape into poems while you dream your songs"

sepia tints

where I end she begins 

is it what you think?
not in motley mind of yours

you can fathom her depth-

a predator you say;

I ask, of what?

she escaped you,

enclosed in your arms-

her cascading locks merged with yours.

time does fade to sepia shade

"blah, blah, blah,
the end, the beginning

can anyone define?"