[x]

2 CirclesDraw a circle,
Fill it with Dreams, hopes,
Fears and that lingering feeling
Something bumping under
Inside, dark places
And hidden corners
Paint little cobwebs of
Imaginary monsters
With their outstretched hands,
Teeth, baited breath

Draw another circle,
Overlapping the first
Set this one a blaze with
Dishes and curios
Dusting, laundry
A career, a forest
The mountains
Your first kiss
Your last breath

In the space between these circles;
This space, the sacred space between the seen and unseen
The imaginary and the real

This is a mundane life.

prey.i'm a collection of curves in your cycle:
a single revolution of your rhythm,
my taste a mile marker.
my hunger is satisfied by your rapture,
and devoured by your voracity.
starving to be grasped, claimed,
and consumed, I feed death— give in,
swallow black relief —your belly round
and warm with the scrapings of my bones.
bury my leavings and tell me reincarnation
is a lie.

--
1/16/2013

Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All Rights Reserved

Regarding ProtocolThis
sunrise
is not what
I imagined--
the breathless tide of a love I can't keep.

Southern Belle - 4Ray of scattered light -
a flicker pearls
crests momentarily
hovers above the water
escaping - a flash of orange -
lands back into the mirage

Pocket StainsShe keeps pens in her pockets,

and the ink bleeds

d

o

w

n

her thighs,

dripping into her shoes

and soaking through the soles,

so that people will see her footprints

and know

where

she’s

gone.

you asked me to write your eulogybut darling, do not ask such things of a poet.
We live with death and feathers
in our bones, and you—

clouds have purpose, and one
is seldom alone in the sky. To
say, smart or handsome or
funny or caring, it is the lid
on the trash, never appreciated
till missing, and you—

undercover smell of well-water
and thick terra cotta clay,
a fallen angel left in smoke-screen
somewhere below the salt, the heart
still beats, and you—

a mythology come-to-life.
Hellion and savior, black-tipped
like raven wings, always more
in the right light
than

Lovebirds' Sorrowshe was the girl with cat
eyes: broad and judging and
carnal; he was the doe
with a broken collarbone,
yet she found herself lost in
the warmth of his sighs and
asked simply for a set
of sweeter lies

[because it's only after you
sell yourself to the earth that
you learn love is not a
chemical reaction anticipating
every ignited glance and soured
word; no, it is a thing
of obligation that sleeps upon
your doorstep, knowing you
will always come back,
knowing you could never forget
its name]

he called to her on hollow
nights, and she found his
voice when she had nowhere
left to go

he was the cereal box savior;
she only needed a place
to bur

Catch PhrasesI hate to take you down a notch,
but darling, when it comes to matters of the heart,
you are no sweet genius.

Shifter EyesI first knew you brown
Brown hair, brown eyes
Strange features in a strange face.
A year passed
I moved away
We still talked, you and I
When I visited, I learned your eyes
Were hazel.
Colors shifting with your soul
And I was growing up.

Another year passed us by
Sorrows, joys. We fell for one another.
Amazed, I found your eyes changed,
Green, light filled
With all the promise of spring growth.
It was you and me and us
But spring and summer fade
Into richly dying autumn.
You grew young again
And I aged too fast.

I broke your heart then.
A winter-cold premeditated thing.
Are your eyes barren brown fields again?

Bitlets 46It's difficult to explain
that I'm not that bad— I've fucked up good—
but I'm not that bad.

WondermentSome days, I find myself
counting
the s e c o n d s
and
the
thump
thump
thump
of my heart
and
pondering
quietly
what I could have
should have
would have
said
were I
better
braver
stronger
and a lot
l e s s
like
me
but all I can manage
now
is
. . . . . . .
I'

TitanicSo you've decided to be a shipwreck
just to taste the Atlantic open
between your lips
and soak your lungs in saltwater
until your limbs turn to bones
and grow their own crust,

a new orphanage
for the school striving
in the depths of the underworld.

FreewriteI am not sure how to do this
I do not really like to write my thoughts down anymore
because I do not enjoy looking into my mind and having
to listen to all the noise
my head is always too loud
too chaotic too crazy too dysfunctional
I am not doing this right because I am
too focused on saying something interesting or
profound or what people will think when they read this;
these people are all real poets and good poets
and I feel like I am just playing along and pretending to be good
while I scramble through my brain to try to invent
something beautiful or unique or clever or even
just something that perfectly describes the ordinary
but maybe

Cruelest love.Honey,
sometimes love means
sticking your fingers
down their throat
just to keep them alive
long enough to tell them
they're an idiot.

And sometimes love
means waking up in a hospital
bed and wishing you'd turned
left instead of right that
day.

beaut(if)ulYou exist in the
space where beautiful is a
question unanswered.

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despondence.it occurs
like a bitter drug,
a blue star awake with
verse. but his
bones don't ache,
no, they never do.

(yet they quiver;
disintegrate
with every quake)

paralysis.

a spine left in
stasis.

the remains of you
turned to nothing but
the scent of
overly-aged
mothballs.

piles
and piles
of dust.

metaphors
trapped
on the edges of
his teeth
and a rhapsody
billowing
in his skull.

his smile crooked
in a moonly manner.

the doldrums
forever trapped
in his lungs
as he burns and burns
and burns
his ways back
to being ash.

Hypergraphiamy lungs implode
everytime. sometimes
I catch little stars
on the edge of my irises,
or the ocean
collecting upheavals of tides
in the famine
of my throat.

in most cases
flowers shoot
from my marrows,
turning my bones
into a cross between
a garden and a
graveyard,

because
they're always there
everytime damn time
a bit of my heart
rots instead of dies
and tries to grow back
on it's own.

in other occasions,
my teeth kill me.
they don't rattle
like the way they do in
body language,
but they tumble and
shake and ache
their way out
of their gumlines
when speech grows
unneeded.

This angers me

(and believe me
anger is never
a necessity. just

AutobiographicalI am not defined
by the way my eyes
flutter
or stutter,
or the way my mouth
cups blisters
instead of flowers

I am not a word
lost in a dictionary
or an unspoken writ trapped
in the chambers
of your unrequited mind.
I am not defined
by the way your words
roll of my tongue
or the silence
that comes without them

this is the definition
of a legacy:
veins dripping with blood
seeping through the valleys
of these papyrus bones
and raven feathers unfolding
the beauty of their afterlife.
The spine-sewn pages and
their only story
unraveling fast
like a motion picture,

the art of
ink staining vast oceans
of whitewash
to fill the memories
of fragmente

Holocaustfresh-carved moons--
winter solstice
is upon us

a hymn spreading like a plague
dripping off eardrums
& wolf tongues

a bloodshed
boiling in
our veins

the sacrifice is ready.

venus.if i could only make
flowers bend
(not break),
i could eat their petals
and let the blood
permeate my bones
then seep all over my skin
like an imploding galaxy

then maybe this savage
in my reflection
could transfigure
into a goddess

syrupy sap
burning like tea
carving the little nooks
and crannies
of this deceased sculpture--

crooked lines
molded into the curves and frame
of a delicate body
enraptured by silhouettes
only the moon could learn
to love.

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once in the afterlife,

by ~apple-fresh, Jan 17, 2013, 8:50:06 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

^{breathe
and b r e a t h e

and
breathe...

inhale

what
was
left

& bury

the
deep
rooted
ashes

beneath
the earth
e n g r a v e d
in heaven's
lungs.}

once in the afterlife,by ~apple-fresh

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

©2013 ~apple-fresh

for the

Unsure about the title, though...:/

I love going crazy with the html formats before, but now I tossed it aside altogether and use...maybe three instead. I guess today's not the day it usually relieves my stress...

examples of html formats:

asdfjkl (ol)

asdfjkl;

(blockquote)

and a lot more ( I actually want a piece to be shaped like something awesome with these htmls, much like this lovely piece by

right here: [link] , but it's a stress-load instead of a stress reliever! XD How did she do it? O-o)

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*lombregrise Feb 2, 2013 Professional Writer

This piece is feat here / Cette pièce est invitée ici : [link]

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~apple-fresh Feb 2, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

woah- thanks so much!

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*lombregrise Feb 2, 2013 Professional Writer

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=DragonsChest Jan 18, 2013 Professional Writer

One of those poems worth reading over and over again...

Reply

~apple-fresh Jan 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you, David!

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=DragonsChest Jan 19, 2013 Professional Writer

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`vespera Jan 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

you should do another one later

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~apple-fresh Jan 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

slr- one poem coming up!

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`vespera Jan 21, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

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!travelgirlxx Jan 17, 2013

I like the title

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