instant raw poems aren’t worthless, i think

 

Fossane – Norway by gazi_selimhan

Sometime last May
I sprinkled my prose
with blue sands from above
and carved a couple of 
bright stars into my arms
Seven months has passed
all seasons of the land
have blown the sands far, 
far away, that when I look up
for auroras in the night
my mind could feel no cold
an essence has been inhabited 
by the warm acceptance 
of his words, and though 
there’s nothing to latch on to, 
everything goes down
deep and calm, and I’m alone
still alone in my realm
near a fading light
asking all along,
‘Had he ever been mine?’

– geena, 10dec2018

my own photo from winter 2017

December lyrics
from the sparks of november
has surrendered love
to soft words and silver dusk
crossing heaven in its dark.

– geena 05dec2018 tanka

my own photo

Thoughts lined-up in sky
sweet mix of your heart and mine
–impenetrable

— geena

09nov2018 haiku

pearl in my verse

The other day I almost couldn’t stop thinking up of lines that could pass for a poem. Somebody has got to stop me 😀 . Sometimes the process is a strain, sometimes a breeze. I’m entertained nonetheless. Wherever I am, when words come up that match my inner mood I take out my pen and jot them down. Then I arrange them as soon as I find some free time. My consistent aim is self-expression. I reread my work the day after when the feeling has subsided — and I go “well what did I just write…” 🙂

image from czech the count, Tumbler

And it always comes down
to how I must unlove you
despite what my heart scribbles
over your arts in motion
that sense each sunrise, each sunset
glowing in their unfiltered light
colorful down your deepest desires.
it’s more than what I owe
more than I can handle,
when in your absence I rise
to wander, to see and feel
what’s been lost in the sky
has spread wide to the sea. 

– geena, 24nov2018

my own photo (europe winter 2017)

you define what’s never 
been understood
the layers of my longings
the sweetest metaphor
the pearl in my verse
an eternity I can believe in
from a dream that’s 
mine to cling to, mine to keep
no one have I kissed more deeply
in this silent field 
where I run by my feelings 
and nothing else.

– geena, 23nov2018

A Little Poetry Does Some Good

The past few days had me writing again. These were originally published on my Tumbler site. No need to reveal who had been on my mind when I scribbled them. Now you understand what I was talking about in my last post. I need to write something. And I’m not finished with my poetic attempts.

Let no sullen song uninspire me
my allegiance to art
needs no intervention
feelings fade, lyrics do not
there’s much to write 
about life, about love
I want light over darkness
dreams over sadness
illusions aren’t worthless
if they move spirits
from fragile to strength
timid to wild
Beyond convention
and proper fiction
my words are ready to fly. 

– geena, 26oct2018

Your light keeps drawing me to this place
I’d long decided to leave.
Somehow your journey remains my spark.
I wish I could kiss your loneliness away, I can’t.
I wish I could wipe away your apprehensions, I never can.
But I’ve pulled you into my arms
Embraced you in all your imperfections and uncertainties.
I look up to see the widening sky, growing brighter…
the entire heaven has nestled within my arms.

– geena 22oct2018

image- Source:Flickr / vainsang

From out of the past (maybe a prose but never a poem)

I don’t know if I still know you
So much has happened
in between…
and there’s been a fog;
there’s been an absence
for life could get wild —
that wonderful period of intensity
when love consumes you
You laid yourself out there
then pulled it all away
Your exact words
from a long time ago.
Maybe I don’t know you
Maybe I still do.

— geena, july 2018

Source

I hadn’t sent him the last ones

He embodies genuine kindness. He also encouraged me to write and for that I am grateful and will always remember him with fondness. I wish I had sent him the last of the poems I wrote for him in the past few weeks.

image: sweet-thoughtt, Tumbler

I know whereof I speak 
in harness to all that I seek
his scent, his touch, his sigh
one light, my heart, one love

image: zalam

What do you remember on that day?
“His blue eyes that speak of a good life and his few regrets.”
What was he like?
“Cool and gentle as rain. Dawn and dusk in one.”
And if you came face to face with him again?
“I’d thank him for the grace that I’d given him my all.”

wilderswil, zwitserland, dec2017

What bone in my body has forgotten you?
Locked in your essence I’d spurn any rescue
from a dream that once I had called you mine
What bone in my body has forgotten you?
When I carry this tattoo – etch of your smile
between fragile and strength, timid and wild 
What bone in my body has forgotten you? 

My train of words will carry all the tender
and supreme ways I wish to love you,
without any permission nor discourse
as to reasons I can’t renounce you. 

Mortal as his servant, angel from beyond
I ask myself: “Has he ever been mine?” 
It’s a quarrel from afar that tore us apart 
when all I’d ever wanted was his heart. 

There’s a dream that smiles when the sky sparks over the coasts
when i’m lost in wonder why his deep blue eyes are central to my pulse
So the evening has turned cold, the night rain starts to pour
the dialogues within my heart begin to soar. 

Lo and Behold, I’ve Become a Poet

Don’t take them seriously. I’ve had the most pleasure on my lyrical attempts, though. And I’m sharing them here. 😀

For every stirring line that i write
for every radiant sun that has set
my heights will reach for no end.
As I’m no Virginia
I could only remain one
and simple for you. 

– geena, may8,2018, revised journal entry

Bright gentle moonlight
shape to his shy wild stanzas
touching one’s secrets
shining down my fresh sonnets
glow in me forevermore

– geena, tanka, june2018

When I slowly run my fingers on every part of your face
my past, my present and future open up within your eyes
I recall the taste of honey and the sensation of a teenage love
I am more and more mesmerized by the swaying greens on trees
You know my hungers and thirsts without sudden retreat
for they both rise with the sun and fly with those doves
My lips reach for yours and their soft touch will surrender
to the waters of the river and the ballads of the spring. I’ll write
you a letter from my heart and the flowers will always be in bloom
From where your sweet arms wrap around me, I can stop fighting 
with my fate because your kisses have already taken me home.

– geena, 23june2018

If I could name the pure fragrance from my fingers that touched your face, my plush words to build this realm would be complete. Like timeless pieces of myself I would like you to have, they will linger through the lungs of our lyrical breaths.

– geena, 22may2018

My story gets written
and the world will listen
for the deeds of my past
were all rain, all wind, all sun.
I’ll find you in my dreams
and my diction will be clear
all good, so pure, so real.
With my salvation on love
from songs all night long
I feel fully alive, but I’m not
sure if I’ll truly be alright.

– geena, 21june2018

Across the light of the earth giving birth to this hour
I hold your hand firm against the wall of my heart;
I meet the arrow of your gaze spreading life in me
and the morning smiles all around; full of joy over
a love being blessed by the prince of the sun.

– geena, 11june2018

Tagaytay city, feb 2018

orange cream at dusk
full blend of deep elegance
stretching heaven’s worth

– geena, haiku, june2018

from out of time – 1

GLOW

His favorite song starts

playing in another room

and the faint sound breezes

into my ear

A simple memory comes into view,

like a faithful glow

quiet and slow in its flow…

My hand lifts up

aiming to catch meaning

But the light sails away…away from my fingers

drifting past a heart

that’s evading to remember

though lingering still

around the breath and feel

of the music which keeps

him near.

— geena, july 2017

she vagabond

Nothing much to define the universe

that holds the certainty whether she belongs

so she wishes for a world somewhere

where long letters are written to make flowers bloom

where love mysteries are pondered for a hundred years,

always spellbound by some gracious moon

and the morning sun that smiles in her room

Her very being the only home she’s come to know

sheltering a timid heart that’s now grown old

Though she’s bound to meet the twilight soon

the promise of unknown regions

glint to be discovered

This much alive, intense and present

the vagabond is set free forevermore.

 — geena, june 2017

Source

simply missing you…

You are this heart’s prose in a rose,

the room in my mind

lucid in all its feelings

that keeps the soul in each poem,

the essence in  every meaningful essay.

What if tomorrow begins its relapse

as soon as the color of your

words turn to rust

caused by uncertainties barely clinging

yet persisting

upon a surface where

no secret could be hunted.

 

Don’t let it fade

don’t let it break

Will the road end with your love or hate?

 

I need no wealth from your mind

nor the touch of gold from your rhymes.

They aren’t what I came here for.

But the light of the star that

flows from your sun perhaps

is what I’ve burned for.

Like you may never get to know

how you’ve always been

the city I would always long

to get lost in

the city I’d always love

to go home to.

*****

– geena, aug 2016

source: touchyonbeam, Tumbler

maybe a prose but never a poem (4)

 

You ask why I set foot at places

where you exhale

your thoughts, your ravings,

your private jeremiads

and you can only look at me

for the silence that comes after

maybe you’re able to divine the answer

how it’s simply the closest I’ve gotten

to laying my eyes on you

begetting a tenderness

that’s hard to construe.

You may cite my harbor for craft

which is beyond my league

although it’s a mistake to think

there’s anything from you I might need.

There’s nary an end within

to cull the gems I’ve set in your esteem

and despite those words I shouldn’t have tried to read

I could only extend my hand to you,in peace.

Because the traces of where this heart has thus been

I still have no want to peel.

– geena 2016