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Poems by Linds :)


THE PIANO MAN

On the rocks
Melody talks
Of piano bars and little else
except blue gold
Across the greyness of the smoke-filled room
I see you
sigh
And remember when we sought the same tune

Disappointment climbs
Chairs of rhyme
Scale across me like a small child
eager to please
Left to unexplore our lot of choices
Seeking something
More real than you
Here, amongst the clutter, among the legions' voices

A man enters, top heavy and filled with imaginings
Strange, his wanderings found him here
Stranger still, his duty sees him stay
To sit and play
To translate the music's universe
And direct the chords of lives astray

Spinning, they stop
Suddenly unjustified in their randomness
A man's undoing is him not knowing
His ignorance is showing, colored red and blowing
Across tables to the wall
To tame possibility
Unstuck he renders it all
Free
As music should forever and always be

Staccato eyes
Flick to us, flick to lies
The piano man knows our beat
The piano man knows when to at last admit defeat



US IN AUGUST

Us
Coalesced
This rousing cherry August
Remembering when things were simple
Golden eyes flecked with Vancouver's ice caps
In the distance, but today closing in
To slide across me and melt me underneath

Blueberries on honey flakes
Bits of you scattered across
Me and my blue imagination
Flavourful, you intensifying
Reaching like a cat's paw
To prompt a reply, to ask for more

Elusive passion
I escape with the knowledge
That you don't know
But I'm far from wet winter days
And what I want is in nothing you can say

Look to the waterfalls for answers
Falling reflections never still
You're deep, so deep you won't resurface
Not for my summertime airs
Not for anyone but the girl who put you there

We,
Incoherently
At the end of being free
The open road without incident, without significance
Before taking a new turn
Or two, I'm pulling left
And you're left, as always, in the right

Simply put
The final sunset
C'est l'été
The sky was true that day
And I really should be on my way




SEASONS' ENIGMA

I'm empty
Deep in mud, lurching forward and back
To investigate the flowering field
To rediscover what I can yield
Somewhere in the those tangled spring grasses
I'll find what I have lacked

Last year's crop tilted off the cart
Granny Smith ran amok
I thought I could move ahead, unstuck
I thought you'd lend a hand, with luck

I'm smiling friendly
New eyes, new fruit
Dust off the cobwebs of past desires and dreams
This one's got a new web to entangle only me
Budding summer bright and I just might
Step in front of the crowd and hope he follows suit

I've done away
With fears colouring grey
What my eager lips would like to say
Expressing none of yesterday

I'm plenty
Crushing, hope he'd hear my autumn voice
Cheering, sidelines too far I reckon
Blond flash not even a distraction
Love I'll have to wrap in a mini
But I'll keep planting seeds to harvest choices

Unacknowledgement is sound
Rotten apples on dew moist ground
Some hidden, I'm not to be found
Your eyes unwilling to follow down

I'm one and twenty
Feeling my life, though full, is intending more
Tumbling from teenage torment to richer texts
On white pages, silent enigma frets
Winter's snowflake puzzle mine to solve
Take up my offering, I now loudly implore



THE CRUSH

The crush lifts me up
And keeps me there
Lips, hands, and hearts of a spellbound pair
Sweeping right and back again
On course but able to expend
As much of me as I can free
To explore this latest possibility

Up up, sea to sky
See the anticipation grow
Bubble over and flow
All this cautious splashing and seeking
Promising the wonder of belonging
Surely in time we'll ultimately find…love?
Streaming us to places undreamed of

Dispatch me, in the soft sweet spot ripples
Of the unknown, safe in the middle
The tide's in and I'm more than ready

Making shelters in the sea grasses
To preserve our newness, to conceal the grasps
Of inexperience with each other
I see the risks, I keep the cover
This tender place which could easily crumble
Easy to hesitate, I'd rather fumble

Hands cupped now with something better
Never expected this
Will it now come to end or all begin with a kiss?

All we know for certain
Is nothing but what is found
In each other's eyes
The crush can now expound



CANADA'S HOT SPRINGS

Hot springs, no strings
Attached to the idea
You're perfect
So perfect, and golden
Your face dancing in the sun
Around us, rock pooled water presses
Warmed by our leisurely caresses

Evasive, persuasive
This great country plays witness
to whales leaping
to songs worth keeping
And finds us, untamed and bushed
For good?
Erasing distinctions between innocence and guilt

Waterfalls, scenery calls
For recognition and care
I would strive to make sense
I would imitate the woodland's silence
To preserve the beauty of your stare

We're on our way
To places unreasonable and unexplored
You're the pinnacle
Of all that was ever true to me
Stars watch our progress through the night's rhetoric

So hollow, it seems
What does this all add up to mean?

Hot springs, no strings
Attached to my wrinkled hands and feet
Seeking what is impossible to find
Choose placid, choose violent
I'm part of nature's world, not yours
The pools once warm, fight now to plunge downwards



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Biographical sketch: Besides being a 4th year English Lit major, I busy myself teaching piano, running amok at UBC beer gardens, and enjoying this poetry thing.

Linds :) recommends:

Morning in the Burned House by Margaret Atwood
Reason: Her satire, always striking and thoughtful, is what makes this work stand out. Her message of ongoing gender disparities in this world is not lost on me, and I hope her work has changed and will continue to change perspectives and attitudes for many readers.

Recommendations for writers:

to be honest with yourself. Funnel your deep thoughts and emotions into one flowing stream and you and the reader will be quite satisfied!


 


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