Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XXII

I’ve been terrified

by things many

but nothing

has shaken me

like

how much

I love you.

Written Lovers

Written words

are lovers,

climbing into your heart

and changing

who you’ve

been.

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XVI

“What do you have to offer me?” she asked.

Nervously, I answer:

“I function within an economy

of words,

and I can offer you

a library

of books

written about the way

you look tonight.”

 

Mocked

Can you beleive

how they mock me

for the way that I speak?

“Logan uses big words now.”

There’s nothing so

beautifully individual

as one’s pattern of speech,

the path to self-expression,

the words that hang on your lips,

whispering to the listener

the secrets about who you are

and where you’ve been.

It’s ok if I’m sad,

but weird if I’m morose or sullen.

It’s normal if I’m happy

but too much if I’m euphoric.

I won’t reduce my language

just so that you like the sound if it.

 

(I don’t, and would not, hurl insults at another’s self-expression, and I won’t carry shame — or ignominy, if you don’t mind — for mine.)

Touchstone Tuesday: Poem IX

I edit my work,

but not early

as often

as my work

edits me.

What’s Art Good For?

“What will you do 
with your degree?” 
 “Create art.” 
“And what’s art good for?” 
Preventing your lunch break 
from remaining the most interesting 
thought to captivate you today. 

Talismans

Words are talismans

from the places

we’ve traveled

and the people

we’ve been,

and the word

I carry in my chest,

favored above all,

is your

name.

On Longing

Every night my soul leaves,
and every morning, it crawls back, exhausted. 
One night I followed it
down old paths 
past familiar trees 
and, all at once, 
I uncovered to where my soul 
wandered 
as I joined my soul 
in watching you.

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem IX

I fell to sleep singing a love song;

a rhythm to my breathing,

with the cadence

of a chest rising and falling

to the beat of a ballad

that plays for you.

When I awoke

in the middle of the night

in the hollow of a barren silence,

I couldn’t find the music.

After I searched under the covers

and in the corners of the room,

I heard you humming the tune

that lulled me to sleep.

I should have known that only you

could take the music

from my throat.