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A Poet's RomanceShe was the quiet sort,
tsunamis tucked
within her eyes,
anxieties pinned
to pottery skin;

she would mold herself
into moonlight butterflies
and glist'ning calla lilies,

pure and white and
beautiful.

and when night cast
itself upon her in
heated, hard'ning flames,

she’d smash herself
upon the rocks
and in morning start
again.
MonophobiaYour hand found my heart with ease,
just as your words always found cracks in weakened armor,
and with the same fluidity that constantly drew my gaze,
filling me with childish need atop the comfort of company,
even if lonely:
we were never ones to stand individually.

Then you play my heart strings,
with the skill of devoted pianists and the poise
of Egyptian princes,
garbed in such confidence I have no choice but to move my lips
to words hummed beneath your steady breath;
the words my heart stammers over,
as weak a fool as ever.

Necessities mash like fevered lips,
merging us as one being,
one entity of which to rejoice with
The Concept of PerspectiveI unfurl with lavender,
wild and stretching possibilities
within velvet serenity.

I sway joyously with conducting trees
and fall with musical, tumbling leaves,
recognition whole;

and for once,
time does not govern
but witnesses.

I change like the seasons,
no complicated reason...
just that I do;

it is as they always say:
some things, they never change.
The Wind Beneath My WingsA gust,
Ruffling the feathers of my charcoal wings
Hung low in my despair.
A tilt of the chin
Upwards,
To the dark midnight of hopes and dreams
I cannot reach,
Twinkling as if they still are beckoning me.
I was numbed.
I gave up on them long ago.

Another soft caress;
Like a push urging me gently forward.
It is not like the cold I am accustomed to,
But warm as it rushes past me.
Please wait…
I have not felt the wind in so long.

So much time spent nailed to the ground.
Do they even work anymore;
These blackened wings of mine,
Tainted with the darkness I used to dwell with
And ruined by my impurities?
Though they are ta
CrescendoCellos sing an agony of the heart;
an astringent song of parting,
tearing at tears burrowed deep within the iris.  

Emptiness fills the void of your absence,
accompanied by an intolerable yearning
which asphyxiates me, submerges me
within tears I leave unshed.

Please mollify me,  liberate  me,
of your reminiscence, of this attentive desertion;
my trembling whispers cannot stray from your name.
I cannot dream of alien touches, or others' devoted affections:
the salvation provided for the heart I keep in darkness.
and I find I cannot blind it to the joys of light once entirely experienced,
and so candidly felt.

I blam
Bone-danceMy skeleton is night
and solace,
ever the drifter
in powdered skies and
hollowed sight.

These red rivers
stir and breathe
in bone-dance:
temptation’s lullaby
for a width and stretch of slumber.

Kisses give soul to
granite marble;
and my bones,
(oh, what dreaming bones):

   they dance no more.
.Were We Not MarionettesI bend
as
she bends,
arms a graceful
bridge of mourning—

our eyes
rippling plains of remembrance.
(but at least we remember)

I lean beside
her,
both hopeless
heaps of wood
and string;

 pirouettes fall
 in time to blurry
 rivers

 and irises plead
 only as allowed:

 moisturizing this
 shell of
 splintered skin.
04 - Remember MeThink not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.

Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.

Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.

My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.
Sea     
Her love was bone white,
 unblemished and
 stunning

[  but never like diamonds.  ]

 Truth then became water to
 pruning fingers and splitting lips,
 while she drowned
 in the mouth
 of a liar like me.
Dare to DreamSo bravely envisioning goals within your mind,
those same goals that slowly change to dreams,
reflected in your eyes not just the aspirations
of a creative mind,
but of a dreamer.

The smallest of smiles,
as if to seal the deal...

already so eager to reach your destination,
with butterfly wings strapped to your back
and arms outstretched to soar.
Practice Makes PerfectI feel the blow to my very bones
And as painful as it is,
I do not cry out.
But more painful is the agony inside my chest,
The chaos,
And the constricting of my heart;
The way it skips a beat and I forget to breathe.

I guess I deserved it for my thoughtless words,
But why so hard?
Why with so much force?
And why to someone you supposedly love?
But love is pain
And without it you cannot grow closer.
So I take it all in silence,
My eyes downcast.
I look everywhere but her eyes.
I know there will be regret,
But it is nothing compared to the betrayal I feel.
She said she would never do it again.
Is this the proof of her prom
Crumbling FacadeHeart screaming,
Crying out for release,
Emotions wound around its surface as it
Breathes life inside your chest.
They pull tighter,
Like strings on a puppet;
The pain rips through your being,
But nothing can erase your obedient smile
And your rosy, dimpled cheeks.
    If only the tears weren't falling…
In October.She is chameleons,

bare-tree umbrellas
somewhere beneath
Autumn’s underbelly,

beside once-remembered friends
of once-remembered pasts,

falling fragmented in kitchen sinks
and cleaning bottles,

still
breaking hearts for puzzles,

still
bandaging wounds on tables
of answers without questions;

and she is still unknown
come next October.
Liberate the MindStronger than myself,
but weaker;
a varying constant, if possible at all.

I can trust in the cycles of confidence
to the heavy weight of
worthlessness, but can give not pattern or apathy
to the event,
only aching bouts of shame,

for holding the head high,
shoulders back and squared in certainty
brings much exhaustion, which then
allows easily the act of hunching in
to keep from bleeding out.

Perhaps I will adapt like clever chameleons
who excel in hiding and
camouflage;
and perhaps hypocritical smiles will cease
encouragement to fraudulent behavior,
which always bring out simulated bests
in me.

but maybe genuine efforts
YearningDo you know what it's like
To love someone to the point of agony?
To the point it's excruciating to know
You can never be one soul?
Do you know how it feels
To have your heartbeat sync to theirs,
And to wish, that in that moment, they could merge?

But we shall stay separated;
We can only be ourselves.
But I cannot forgive this part of me
That remains yearning for your soul.
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Melancholia

:iconnullibicity:

I crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.

I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.

I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.

I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…

and how easily resignation
was acquired,
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
resolute

and chronic.

236

23 9 0
:iconnullibicity:

Melancholiaby ~Nullibicity

DescriptionDetailsShare
Once... but no more.

Melancholia: a mental condition and especially a manic-depressive condition characterized by extreme depression, bodily complaints, and often hallucinations and delusions (merriamwebster.com/dictionary)
©2012-2013 ~Nullibicity
Category: Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

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November 23, 2012
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:iconrenosgirl77:
~RenosGirl77 Jan 30, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Hamlet!! Sorry, that's just who this made me think of, for some reason. I think you've captured the nature of Melancholia to an absolute tee - I got chills while reading, which is always good!! :)
Reply
:iconnullibicity:
~Nullibicity Apr 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I'm glad to hear that!! :heart: Thanks for sharing and taking the time to comment. I really appreciate your words, as always :love:
Reply
:iconrenosgirl77:
~RenosGirl77 May 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
It's no problem at all, I'm really glad to hear you find my comments so helpful!! :)
Reply
:iconschongslipper:
=schongslipper Nov 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Another poem wonderfully laden with imagery and metaphors and sorrow. I wonder... these pieces are all so lovely, but it seems you're a bit stuck in them. I feel you perhaps should try something different to jump your evolution as a writer again. I remember one of your poems, "Monophobia" I think it was? had the difference I feel you can apply to every poem. If you like them how they are, don't change. I'm simply stating that I feel you have perfected this format and it may be time to master another type of writing.
Reply
:iconnullibicity:
~Nullibicity Nov 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
No, I agree with you. I've been unable to give a name to the problem, but I've felt myself come to a halt with my writing. I couldn't explain it, nor could I continue writing as I had before... I barely squeezed this poem out. Thank you, because I think you've given that elusive name to my problem... and I think I agree completely.
I do have a question, for clarification, though: I didn't understand what exactly you were saying when you spoke of Monophobia. Did you consider the style of that poem to be something that could aid my evolution? I'm pretty much looking for where to start that growth, so I was just curious if that was an option for my starting point.

Thank you so very much for always giving me more than I ask for... both when it comes to support and when it comes to my growth as a writer. :tighthug: I cannot convey my appreciation, because this means so, so much to me.
Reply
:iconschongslipper:
=schongslipper Nov 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Good! I'm glad you sensed that too =] Here's my previous comment on Monophobia...

"I think this poem shows improvement. You're starting to not just talk about people and feelings, but to add allusions and broaden your settings. It backs them even better. When you add things like that, the reader has more to grab onto, more to visualize. I saw this in the second verse strongest. It gives your poems... a more exotic feel. I love it. Keep it up; I saw it again in Crescendo, though I think it's done better here. If that didn't make sense, tell me, and I'll try to clarify."

Perhaps you revisit that poem and Crescendo and analyze them? I remember Hide and Seek was another great piece by you, one of my favorite. Look at them and then maybe just write something completely different. Try prose or a structured rhyme scheme. Chances are it won't be good or you won't like it, but that's really not a given. it's just that I think you need to branch out and accept that the results might not be as beautiful as your usual products, but that they'll be more important.
Reply
:icondreamsinstatic:
`dreamsinstatic Nov 23, 2012  Professional Writer
Your fantastic work has been featured in Friday Night Features.
Reply
:iconnullibicity:
~Nullibicity Nov 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Once again I am honored to receive such a wonderful gift. Thank you for your interest and generosity: I remain very grateful!
Best wishes to you~ :hug:
Reply
:icondreamsinstatic:
`dreamsinstatic Nov 27, 2012  Professional Writer
You're welcome.
Reply
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