Chase
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I repeat my name
on and on
and on and on
and on and on
As if I'm trying to find myself
As if I'm trying to dig deep into my truth
And I feel like I'm getting closer
wild thrill of the chasehummingbird and bumblebee~getting a buzz on....Mark Toney © 2020.11/16/2020 - Poetry form: Haiku,
There was one more word I needed to say
but he left before I could say it
So I texted it to him
It was Bye and he never responded
It didn't even say he read it
He had deleted my number
Crazy maiden in the woods
tracked her down as best I could
She and I both bruised and bled.
My leg was lame. She sought me dead.
A tear-smudged face,
a curdling cry
A deadly grace,
It is just me and you,
In this mini colloseum,
Watching these amateur singers perform
Crowded though it is,
Smokers though we all are,
In the fading light of a day gone by,
I love you
Now and forever
Your smile
Your eyes
Your voice
Your friendship
You.
I love you.
I'll stay with you
As long as you want
Now and forever
I'll love you
He's not tall, dark and handsome
Or a muscular jock
Not a hopeless romantic
Or a sex-driven shmuck
He's not perfect
He gets angry
He has scars
But he's still perfect to me.
I fall asleep
Images form
I'm panting
I'm running
In a dark alley leading to a maze
In a lean swaying building
I hear my name
Shouted
Numerous times
A variety of voices
Forfeit the winter
Forfeit the snow
Forefit the bitter and the cold
Build your houses
Where foliage spontaneously grows
Where winds of wild ambition blow
On the very brink of reality,
Hanging on the edge of safety,
Tweet, tweet, tweeting up, up high,
The in and out breaths, the deep sigh,
To jump or hop back to the nest?
I can feel you closing in
Nipping at my heals, only a few steps behind
What do you want from me?
I never asked for this chase to begin
And yet to chase me down, you seem inclined
She ran through the forest,
Heart a beating tempo
Tripping over the rot,
Breath a gasping crescendo
You were her pursuit
Chasing her with ease
Like a phantom, quietly,
You whispered through the trees
Do you see what I see?
The boy in the mirror
His life is a smile
But it is false, fake, and broken
He turns to the left
His reflection again
This time from a razor
As he cuts again
Her eyes are sweet
with the gentle glaze of death.
Roseate lips of golden ice
and petite hands clasped tight.
Who is she praying to,
in the soft morning light?
