Sonnettics

I never thought my life would go this way
I never thought a thing like this was life
I watched all sense and reason slip away
It’s like my brain was cut, without a knife
I can’t remember how I nearly died
But I remember waking in a bed
a tube was in my stomach and I cried
at everything my mom or sister said
They told the truth, as far as I could tell
I had new scars in places I had not
at times I felt a pain that hurt like hell
at times I thought of nothing, all forgot
My memory is still a fractured thing
I never knew my brain had this to bring.

Convince my heart it needs your love my love
convince my heart that love is something real
Awake my heart, my heart is dreaming of
your touch; my heart is longing love to feel
My heart has need of beauty; I believe
your beauty is the one my heart requires
Your beauty is an honor to receive
Your beauty warms my heart and it inspires
My poetry, my words, my simple rhyme
I write because I must when you are you
I find myself asleep at every time
I’m absent from your side and from your view
Awake my heart, your lover and your man
I want to write your poem and our plan.

I fight the tears that medicine would stop
I feel no hope, no love, my feelings drop
I lost my life, I lost my love, my hope
I hate the words that tell me I can cope
I feel the tears that want to mark my face
I hate the tears; I wish that I could place
My knowledge of my feelings on a hill
and let them coast away to where they will
The tears would be their pilot and their guide
The feelings were not with me on the ride
in April, when I lost my life, my hope
so now they coat the words that try to cope
with tears that fight to mark my heart, my face
I wish that love was here in an embrace.

for Tammy @ the QFC Coffee Bar in Enumclaw, Washington

I sit and drink my coffee in her booth
I sit to watch her beauty, that’s the truth
She warned me that the coffee might be cold
But I have found the warmth and I am sold
She doesn’t see me watch her take a sip
Her cup contains the smallest coffee drip
Her mouth is full; she wrinkles up her nose
The coffee must be warm then, I suppose
I watch her do the same at every pot
and wonder if the coffee all is hot
In every taste she takes I laugh inside
in awe of what must be her “coffee pride”
I see her Name is Tammy, and I thank
her tasting of the coffee in each tank.

“Hello,” she says, and I can hear her hair
Brush fragrantly across the phone, just where
her fingers close upon the plastic case
I hear “hello,” and long for her embrace
Her fingers should be closed upon my skin
Her fragrant hair should sense what I’d begin
Then warmly, I would let her say “hello”
And move above as she moved on, below
I hold the phone to hear her tender voice
because my only choice is not a choice
To live in silence seems like living death
But on the phone I hear her heaving breath
If I could have my lover here, her hair
would have no place to go without my care.

This world, this box, has never been so cold
as when I fell and everybody told
the man inside my brain he’d be alright
but now this box is shrinking, getting tight.
I wish I had a mate to keep me warm
to rock the box as if it were a storm
I wish I had a mate to hear me rhyme
her name with words that fit her soul, sublime
I need you here to love inside this box
I need you now, regardless of the clocks
the time of passion follows time of pain
I’ll give you mine, my love, it isn’t vain
I love to feel your beauty and your skin.
Without this box, would you have let me in?

Beautiful Love, I dreamed of Us last night
Souls were in need and our bodies felt right
I woke then, I felt repaired in my flesh
I thought you were there and would intermesh
But my mind remembered the pain and knew
of my broken body, of absent you
I cried back in bed at the awful thought
of what had transpired, but really should not
my lover forsook me and I was sad
emotions were painful and I got mad
words were exchanged like never before
The Raven was calling and you, Lenore
Longing nepenthe I sought in vain
Alive with a sorrow that feels insane

There is no way to cease my heart, it’s beat
continues strong, regardless of my pain
which comes from time to time; I can’t defeat
the injuries of body or of brain
And yet, my heart is life of love and pain
the pain is mine; the love comes from your heart
There is no way to cease your heart; it’s vain.
Such vanity should cease, should just depart
I think your heart and love will always pound
a rhythm that will force my heart to beat
and in your rhythm I can hear the sound
of your consistent care for me, complete
I love you, baby, I will always feel
your love for me, your heart, it’s rhythm, real.

I want to place my lips upon your scar
and let them linger there until they know
the shape, the depth of everything you are,
to bear a mark that shows and doesn’t show.
I want to feel the pulse that’s deeper still,
that feeds the living mark upon your skin,
with lips that can reveal the living will
that wants to be let out, to be let in.
I want my kiss to be a healing touch
whenever it is pressed upon that place
of opening and closing and as such
my kiss will mark salvation, strength and grace.
And when that moment comes, when it is clear,
I’ll bathe your scar with just one single tear.

Jones:    When last, if ever, did you speak in verse?
Smith:    Like normal speech, like talking to a friend?
Jones:    Or when did you last count the rhythm’s flow
To measure out the feet?
Smith:                                         The feet?
Jones:                                                       You hear
how odd it sounds to use the terms we use
in papers where we write of poets who
are dead, who have no meaning for our day.
Smith: The foot.
Jones:                 The great iamb.
Smith:                                          The noble word
which pulses through the language of our veins.
Jones:  They say it has a rhythm like our hearts.
Smith:  Bullshit!  It beats itself to death.  It drones
and drones, and only hints at what it means.
Jones: The hint of “that within which passeth show?”
Smith: The “backward masking” used so long ago.