On the Fritz

onthefritz007:

I’m waiting for you
to join me tonight
as the prelude
to a long summer
reveals itself
through fluid lines
of cross winds
ribboning
a soft exhale
up entwined curtains
dancing like wings
upon the song
of an angel
fluttering
on my windowsill

Vignette

*
She was as fearless
as a lioness
prowling in a
sub-Saharan savanna;
it was the last time
I saw her whole.
Like a dream,
the world I knew
evaporated
into tiny particles of dust,
making it impossible
to hold on - to the past.

*
We were young
and the seeds
of cynicism
had not yet been
planted
— our existence grew
in the roots
of impulse and idealism.
We owned the moment,
and that’s all
that mattered.

*
Sometimes
I miss her
so much
that I kayak
across the peninsula,
chasing her memory
in a storm.
I close my eyes
and imagine
that she is
somewhere
— beyond the clouds
— beyond the thunder
— beyond the rain
smiling down on me.

Just let go —
and feel the
weightlessness
of your spirit
collide
with the
serendipitous sky

It was the time
she lost it all

alone

even the moonless sky
abandoned her
during the darkest days

when Karma had its way
of showing her
the empty feeling of
defeat

until

one day
she

S
C
R
E
A
M
E
D

echoing
from her resilient lungs
to top of the earth

letting the universe know

she
would
survive

onthefritz007:

The quiet
settles
the dead
of night
as she hangs
her exhales
gently on the breath
of her lover
dreaming in colour
by her side.

Tango

I am seduced
by the dancing sea

swelling in voluptuous waves
her hourglass frame
ribbons a fluid line —

arching her body
in meandering crests

she dances - breathlessly
as my kayak gently rests

in a whirling wind
beneath every flick of wrist

rhythmically
I paddle my way
to a smoldering sunset

onthefritz007:

I wish I could
find my way
home
in your arms

— disarmed

by the zephyr
carrying the faintest
remnant
of your scent

a fragment —

sailing away
in sad disarray
prevailing
over this
neverending
night

Modus Operandi

I write —
so I can watch
words
drip from my pen
organically
like winter melting away
under the rising sun of spring.

It’s a love affair with language,
— an obsession
as I play tetris
with the syntax and semantics
of verse,
so painfully
unrehearsed and raw.

Moments of love and loss
are woven intricately
into a quilted minutiae,
exposing the viscera
of survival,

— but in the end

I know
that
words
are only
words
after all.

Eclipse

I’m carving your memory
out of the old apple tree,
bearing fruit where we once laid
so languidly — levitating
on the crocheted throw,
those many sunsets ago.

Not sure what it all means
when a moment
so extraordinary
just happens,
and you feel as though
the world is on your side —

like when the moon
slides perfectly
into the shadow of the earth,
while aligning - precisely
with the sun,
and all you can see
is a magnificent halo
igniting the auspicious sky.