Some Different Poems

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litjunkie
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Some Different Poems

Postby litjunkie » Fri Aug 27, 2004 1:53 am

Here is some poetry that I have recently written. It's different than my usual style, and I'm excited but uncertain about it, if that makes any sense. Here goes:

“The Reversed Climax”

It starts as a drop,
Slipping in a downward flow.
The dried ground drinks it up
–every drip–
all of the moisture.
Yet, it continues to come,
drop by drop,
flowing, trickling, moving, passing, touching everything.
As time pushes it along, it grows in size,
changing shaping,
enlarging, enrapturing,
all that is beneath it.
The coolness of it flows over all the pieces,
all of the parts.
It expands as it begins to gush,
it flushes downward,
stretching itself, its figure, over all.
It folds all,
weightless,
gentle.
And so it holds him, and he is safe.



“The Unnatural”

Can I shake you?
Can I hardly rock you to and fro?
Why must the power be in your hands?
Everyone stares at me—I’m so unnatural.

Turn the channel, turn it fast.
Maybe, we’ll find a justification.
It’s all there, inside the invisible image.
I must fulfill it—I must penetrate the wondering.

Move it fast, now take it slow.
I have the power over this set.
What? Do you see it?
Do you see the figure change?

It’s different—it’s not the same.
Minds might expand inside this shape.
It’s not too grand, it’s not large, but it is there.
She saw it—she saw it change.
She grasps it, rocking it not fast, not slow,
Pushing it the way she wants.

He’s let go. He’s lost control. But she has it. She knows what to do.
I do, too.
But the real question is do you?

“It Has Come”

The blood flows in a downward stream.
There are attempts to confine it-
But it is always seen.
Crying souls drowned in its pool,
Prevented is the world of fools.
The medication that protected each searching life,
Prevented the serpent from embedding its strife.
Instead the flowing blood stabs its pain,
Reminding the players of the wicked game.
All is damned and welcome too,
For security, the blood holds true.
In days the blood dries-
And its demons sleep.
Yet, ah contraire, the blood flows deep.
Days will pass with its ended souls gone.
Still, shortly after, a return is once again welcome.
Litjunkie
-reader and writer-
www.litjunkies.com/booktalk

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