Poem I found
I stumbled upon this in my writing folder. I like it:
On the capture of women
The essential process is something like, but altogether different, painting
progressional musical chords, it makes sense, though I’ve run out of words
for those small moments where your effect was more than the sum of myself,
a simple gesture, a causeless smile, so I gave up on the other words, and replaced them with the following
I wrote 7 simple haiku’s
one for each point of fire you claim for your own-
Your hand on your hip, and shift personae-
Two through five, odes to that half smile you wear
when a comment strikes your fancy, or
a dart hits some ritualistic spot and sticks.
Six was a madman, the insanity of poetry
burning mass between your eyes, passionate
fury behind words, the meaning
and the sound.
The seventh, she was a horror
of trying to find that spot on your neck
where all soul emanates. . . it was like wrestling
with Tiamat for control of the sky, for control enough
to describe that inner something which makes
me write this; in place of seven simple Haiku’s
devoted and dedicated, a description
of how words fail when poets collide.
On the capture of women
The essential process is something like, but altogether different, painting
progressional musical chords, it makes sense, though I’ve run out of words
for those small moments where your effect was more than the sum of myself,
a simple gesture, a causeless smile, so I gave up on the other words, and replaced them with the following
I wrote 7 simple haiku’s
one for each point of fire you claim for your own-
Your hand on your hip, and shift personae-
Two through five, odes to that half smile you wear
when a comment strikes your fancy, or
a dart hits some ritualistic spot and sticks.
Six was a madman, the insanity of poetry
burning mass between your eyes, passionate
fury behind words, the meaning
and the sound.
The seventh, she was a horror
of trying to find that spot on your neck
where all soul emanates. . . it was like wrestling
with Tiamat for control of the sky, for control enough
to describe that inner something which makes
me write this; in place of seven simple Haiku’s
devoted and dedicated, a description
of how words fail when poets collide.