Magical

today the wind came out to greet you
like it was saying a final goodbye
i went on a walk and i found you
for i tried and i tried and i tried.

from a distance you stood there poetic
and i watched as my heart slowed and spinned
you were standing quite still in the solitude
while i watched you, alone in the wind.

when you ran up to greet me you sparkled
like a fairy all gilded in sunlight,
your hair flew around you like fairy wings
and your balmy pink smile was as bright.

then you stood there and softly spoke poetry
an elegy made of a sigh
you delivered a sermon of pearls to me
and what humble a servant was i.

as your lips held each whispered word tightly
in caresses i never could prize
your recited words said “i’m in love with you”
then i stared, falling into your eyes:

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

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I Humbly Asked, but She’d Already Gone

will you read out my story?
i aksed, as my hands noticed she would
rub her thumb against another girls hands in
comfort, and id bristle.

will you read out my story?
i asked, but she shrugged and said
maybe some other time,
but i could see she had no time,
what with the movie contracts and the
cars and cabs and the
smoking up neon-colored lights.

will you read out my story?
i asked, but she’d gone off to college
reading about gender politics and the history of
film and all she had ever read about my life
never existed.

tender,
clear eyes,
clear-eyed and wan,
and all the girls who spoke in poetry
scarsely changing hands;
i cannot enter an embrace with her soft voice
or nest with her garden of poems,
or remember the way her limbs fell like gossamer fans.
(will you?)

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

Arboretum Love Song

for you,
i am trying not to run out of sunlight
so i settle on the peat moss love by the house
forged in dirt and soil
quiet and secret
and then i knew
that i grew
from out of you

the weeds lift and stretch and
your smile is the good day

I’m full of self-doubt
not sure if any of this is genuine because i’m not
rushing to see u, a burgeoning bloom adoring
but here i am writing poetry
and it makes you just as real
(to me and the perennials)

i love your smile and i want to soak into it
i love your frame and i want to graft myself onto it
i love your voice and i want to grow on it;

I think of us together, like two ripe persimmons,
flying thru the air,
kissing in the middle of nowhere,
trying not to care,
I touch you in my mind and i find comfort in it there

and yes, in the security of this garden I am
writing and burying you a poem,
so you don’t have to read or
remember that I love you.
I haven’t spoken this poem aloud yet,
and that’s good, I’m not supposed to.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Sitting at the School Bench, Talking to Friends

today i saw the tight punctuality
of the person i wanted only to kiss hard (right)
and the person i wanted only to hold, to confide in. (left)
polar opposite.

i hated the personality of one
didn’t care about true intimacy with the other
juxtipulated

maybe i have found another universe in one person’s eye
and see the eye as the begining of a very long trail of other parts in another

it was nice to see it spread out so neat and clear like that
i was greatful.
i said i love you to the person that mattered and they said look at her face
i thought don’t you see it?

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

You’ve Got the Wrong Ideas, Probably

I have made you up in my mind
a rosier version of you:
less serious.
more open, less business.

I don’t know why
it makes me scared.
i don’t think i should
keep on talking this way
and if any of this is
real.

I have made you up in my mind
to hide with
to run with
i daydream about you like a miracle
it will never happen.
that is why it is a daydream.

your name and hair aren’t too
frilly,
perhaps it is the
reason,
and your gate is so decided
and the way you move around
so calm and cool
how could i resist,

and though i may compare it to
all i used to know on the subject
this is something new
why is it something to prove?
maybe it is not correct
i doubt it and i hate it
maybe all the poetry is
con
trived.
yeah, it’s wrong, is it?
(you tell me.
you hold me)
well I’d probably hate it in
real
life.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

What Was the Feeling of Her?

her jeweled hair
the way she’d speak
you wanted her on the floor
pressed against you, holding
how you’d do it
even in your dream you denied
it said to hell with that
but now you wish you hadn’t
she was cold ice white
her lacy face
why couldn’t she be yours

and why weren’t you jealous of her
almost lover
why weren’t you terrified
when he was in the room
why didn’t you shirk
whenever he said hello
and why didn’t you search her out
in the room,
why did you just stay put
thinking
she’s the kind of girl i’d like to
kiss?

thinking about laying in the fields together
the rides together
the long hours together
and her voice
her voice that could read you
poetry
how could you make it through the day
and barely see her
frittering your last moments
with her off,
sharing you her poetry

gleaming when she didn’t scoff
how she’d gently caressed your knuckles
and it felt like a butterfly’s moon kiss
and you stayed in silent awe, observing without her gaze
and sometimes,
you’d hide tears when she’d tell you how wonderful you were.

why did you confide in her a friend?
why did you care so little?
what was the feeling, really?

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Fairy Acrostic

Resting on
Your
Arm,
Nestling.

She
Is
My
Precious
Kindred spirit,
Indelible
Nymph, my
Silkie

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry