Poem 3  

LabiaLickLapper 41M
11 posts
5/29/2006 12:57 pm
Poem 3

Urban Rivers

As young bucks
And self-appointed ship captains
Spring was our busiest season.
The rivers forever changing from
A dry gray tone
To monsoons with currents sewing
New directions at every seam.

Spring was our best season
To float our handcrafted battleships
Barges and speedboats
[ Speedboats modeled after
Tuesday night Miami Vice
The barges low budget versions of what
We knew ten blocks away on the Mighty ]

Our second spring of construction
Produced the most exceptional river drivers
Ever drafted on a stoop and curb.
By our third season we had grown
Too old and had moved onto
More profitable business ventures
Mainly recycling beer cans
Repossessing bicycles.

Looking back on our ship captain seasons
And the time we spent kneeling next to
Sidewalk curbs, hoping our paper and toothpick
Our plastic straw reproductions would float
The gutter, peacefully down the storms drain
To our urban rivers and oceans
Where the worlds’ secrets and mysteries float

I know the best thing we did
Was run from those rivers
Because surely its frigid
Depths would have cut and
Icicled our skin.

craftyRN 58F

11/28/2007 4:54 pm

Did you write this?
it is very good.
here is one I wrote, it is my favorite.

Cold January

while I sleep,

she slipped

silently into

the abyss.

The emptiness of her soul

Creates a hollow echo through my being

Calling out Y

Begging, help meYdaughter, help me,

Her body is just a shell.

Laughter fades,

smiles grimace,

Movement ends.

seconds slip by seemingly slow,

The clicking of the clock hands are

deafening, deadly.

Vibrations of ragged breathing

I feel within my chest.

let my soul seeks hers.

I know, it=s coming.


Father sleeps on a cot,

Beside her bed.

The same illness whittles

his mind and body,

Yet he is lucid.

Sees angels floating above her

I ask, who do they want?

He knows, I am not sure,

Dr. says they compete for time.

”Mom,” He says.

It is pre-decided, she is first,

Father waits, his turn.


Agonizing life

slips away.

Forever gone the

child in me... with her.

She has departed.


I scream at God,”WHY?”.

With a wet wrestling rush

I feel her again.

My eyes are black, shiny,

Fish-like, leaking salty tears

My mind is hauntingly empty.

Synapses in my brain halt.

Cerebration is jumbled.

Grief is Incomprehensible.

Grated emotions,

Slough from my being.

She left. The matriarch.

I am now she.


I feel lost within my self,

The world revolves,

Circling without me.

Nerves numbed..

My essence wants to join with hers.

She cherished life,

Only to be doomed to a

Celebrated existence.

I am here now alone.

She is there now alone.

Great gnawing grief blinds me

to the good memories.

They lie deep within the recesses of

my brain, waiting to surface.

With illness still so fresh upon me

I am sickened by its sadistic ways.

The remnants of long ago will return

to me and I will smile again.

Birth of a different stance begins anew.

I carry her within me now,

Become as she was, The Matriarch.

She will guide me.

Goodbye my sweet Mother,

Until we become as one again.


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