Saturday, January 31, 2015

girls divided by girls



girls divided by girls


i fell in love
with girls adorned with
freckles that crossed
the bridge of their noses
like the dabbled spots 
you see on a newborn fawn
frozen in fear and lying
so very still
in the woods
girls with the same camouflage
draped across their cheeks
and even some 
with a gentle splash of pepper
running across 
and down 
their soft tummies
but those girls
if i remember correctly
did not lay still

i fell in love
with girls who wore bleached
blond hair
piled high 
and held in place
with scented hairspray
like a crown
on their heads
girls with baby-blue 
eyeshadow smeared slightly
from the flutter
of their lashes
with skin draped in peach fuzz
and with the whitest smiles
that beckoned for attention
and mistook every passing desire
for love

i fell in love 
with girls in denim dresses
who smoked rolled cigarettes
and on occasion
let a swear word
slip through their chapped lips
girls who hated 
rules and expectations
and who traveled across
the country with nothing more
than a small backpack
and a thin sleeping bag
who ran from day's end
and only rested
late at night
in the crook 
of my arms

i fell in love
with girls who wrote pretty words
in beaten black journals
and with a turn of a phrase
and a mixed metaphor
condemned the world
that they were sure
had spit them out
girls with a conscience
but who could never decide
right from wrong
and instead searched 
for the ambiguity
of some dreamy
universal love
even though they did not know
or allow themselves
to feel the passion of
love at all

i fell in love
with girls who gave me joy
and girls who left me heartbroken
girls who offered careful promises
and girls who offered only recklessness
girls with stars in their eyes
and girls who hid behind an endless pain
girls disguised in the colourful costumes
of a childlike fantasy
and girls who stepped from empty shadows
to embrace enlightenment 
younger girls and older girls
quiet girls and loud girls
dull girls and bright girls
girls breathless with longing
and girls moaning with pleasure
and through it all
i never found the love
never ever caught the heart 
of you
the mystery of my life
the one and only girl 
who slipped like the wind
past the hopeful reach
of my dreams
and vanished 
with the best of her spirit
gone forever
from the best of mine

Copyright © Kennedy James, 2015. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

once certain, twice removed



once certain, twice removed ...


i miss my youth
the prairie roads
carving poetry in
fields of dappled gold
a summer's harvest reaching heavenward
to the toppling clouds
of a never-ending sky
where every imagined
beast or beauty
was caught in the reflection
of the big rivers
that poured like holy wine
into a young boy's veins
a sacrament of sorts
you'd think
but more and more
a tattered collection of memories
not quite lost
but lost all the same ...
i miss the danger
of falling in love
with a perfect stranger
unexpectedly slipping into my life
of imperfection ...
i miss the jarred butterfly pandemonium
and the nervous excitement
of hands wandering across
the skin of unknown bodies
the silly giggles of encouragement
and even the whispers of
hesitant rebuke ...
i miss the softest cheek 
against my cheek
when lips wander
to lips
to share the breath of love
and breathe the pulse of life
from heart to heart
blending the two into one ...
i miss the slow waking
from solitude
into arms that wrap
across my shoulders
and coax my body
from the cold
and carry me
into the warmth of knowing
that dreamers live
lives asleep ...
i miss the missing
the times apart
the you there
and the me somewhere unknown
so high above the world
in vacant night skies
the time or distance
or both
that divides improbable lovers
from one another
the words and promises
that reach across
crackling telephone conversations
of wounded longing ...
i miss the purpose
the obvious reason
for being who i am
that i see in a knowing look
from bright expectant eyes
or that i feel in the soft fingers
that brush my hair back and away
from my brow
but mostly
i miss every day
when i might have said
something hopeful
and was silent


Copyright © Kennedy James, 2015. All rights reserved.

Monday, January 26, 2015

circles of time



circles of time ...



the girl waiting to become a woman
smiled as she watched me
from across the room
her clear and hopeful eyes
stuttering in anticipation
like the hands
on an ancient hallway clock
counting down the seconds
the minutes
the hours
the days
the months and the years
that she had endured
to arrive at this single axis
in the unending circles of time ...
and as she peeled
the bed covers aside
i said a silent prayer
that i might not falter
through the rise of night
and the urgency of desire
to be the one for her
but i hesitated
a second
a minute
an hour
a day
a month and a year too long
and what might have been
slipped by in an instant
sending her drifting into shadows
with only a final whispered thought
that every moment embraces
every other moment before it
and defines all the moments
yet to come


Copyright © Kennedy James, 2015. All rights reserved.





© Kennedy James. All rights reserved.
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