'because I have no spine & because she sleeps so deeply !

because i have no spine, because she sleeps so deeply

by

Elliot Thaler

sometimes,
when you fall asleep in my bed
with one sock on
(like you always do)
and your head burrowed into my shoulder,
your mouth half-open
and your eye-lids fluttering away the down
of the feather-plucked pillows...
i talk to you.

i admit that i broke your grandfather's picture frame
while i was playing darts in the basement,
and that i'm the one who burnt the hole in the cutting board.
that i'm getting tired of my job and i might quit
before the beginning of next year.
that i once hit on your sister while i was drunk
and she cracked me in the jaw.
that she was responsible for that bruise you iced with frozen peas,
when i told you i fell into the counter.
i tell you that i'm an asshole,
and i don't know what you're doing with me,
that i carry around that sugar packet with the sailboat on it
that you gave to me after i first kissed you
in the lobby of the seaport diner,
leaning against that old cigarette machine.

i brush the hair away from your forehead
and wipe the little slick of drool off your chin.
i tell you that you're beautiful.
that i hope you don't figure out what a lost cause i am
and leave me here with nothing.
and i thank you for writing that get well card to my aunt sylvia
when i forgot to, and for taking my bike out of the rain
so it wouldn't rust last tuesday.
for being the only person to look at me head-on
while you lay with me, and for digging your fingernails
into my scalp without pressing too hard.
for not asking me to say it,
even though i hope you know i mean it,
that i do.

nestled and entangled in my arms,
your breath heavy with exhaust,
i look at you once more before turning off the light
and can't help but feel this need in me for everything about you.
and so i tell you that i love you,
too cowardly to wake you,
hoping you might hear it in your dream.

03/04/2008

Posted on 03/05/2008
Copyright © 2010 Elliot Thaler

Member Comments on this Poem

Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 03/05/08 at 01:56 PM When I just browse getting my poetry fix I do not always have time to log in and comment but your poetry is so honest, tender and conversational I keep coming back to read it. Parts of your poem are a mirror to my own actions at time speaking to someone while they sleep only hoping they will hear me in dreams...amazing. smh

Posted by Nanette Bellman on 03/05/08 at 09:19 PM god, i wish i had a guy to wipe the drool of my chin. beautiful elliot. as always.

Posted by Alessandra Gallo on 03/06/08 at 12:31 PM your poetry rocks. end of discussion.

Posted by Bradd Howard on 03/06/08 at 12:48 PM such tenderness... even when admitting "what a lost cause you are". I have had this similiar experience many times. and then they wake up to find you staring at them and you have no words then. the words are only safe when they are sleeping. great write! I look forward to reading more of you

Posted by Barbara Penryn on 03/06/08 at 03:46 PM Nice!

Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 03/06/08 at 10:08 PM kudos. this is (beyond) beautiful.

Posted by Sarah Mae Allard on 03/06/08 at 11:58 PM you scum! hitting on her sister

Posted by Abby Cossins on 03/07/08 at 02:29 PM sweet and vulnerable, a lovely poem x

Posted by Crystal Wilkinson on 03/07/08 at 05:17 PM I love this, it's beyond words. Beautiful insight and expression. Great Read!!!!

Posted by Christian Ragunton on 03/08/08 at 02:06 AM are you kidding me? the most beautiful thing i have ever read. never, in my 4 years here at pathetic, have i added a poem to my favorites folder. until now --- beautiful work. man, absolutely, beautiful. "and so i tell you that i love you, too cowardly to wake you, hoping you might hear it in your dream." wow. just, wow.

Posted by Maria Massarella on 03/10/08 at 01:10 PM One would hope the talk enters dreams though in my heart i believe it does. Should it not, maybe you could find your spine and she could sleep less deeply. Your poems have a beautiful feel... *m.a

Posted by Mara Meade on 03/11/08 at 02:46 PM It's the absolute honesty that gets me straight in the heart. Great poem.

Posted by Kristi Paik on 03/12/08 at 02:46 PM aside from the lovely vunerability of this piece, i love the honesty even more. this is a fave for sure. thank you for sharing, i hope she read this!

Posted by Kristi Paik on 03/12/08 at 02:47 PM aside from the lovely vunerability of this piece, i love the honesty even more. this is a fave for sure. thank you for sharing, i hope she read this!

Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/13/08 at 01:50 AM Your adoration of this precious girl bathes me in awe of love, and how fear makes us say things in the night that we could not in the light of day. It's funny and vulnerable and real and reminds me that there are still amazing moments being had in other parts of reality. I'm so glad to read it!

Posted by Jane E Pearce on 03/13/08 at 06:08 PM I often don't take the time to read long poems but this one hooked me at the start. A wonderful flow with no tripping. One thing lead to another. She's a lucky lady to have you but I am sure you feel as lucky to have you. Wonderful poem.

Posted by Rachel C Johnson on 03/15/08 at 10:56 PM I absolutely love this piece. That's all there is to it. I just do. :)

Posted by LK Barrett on 03/18/08 at 07:00 AM Intimate, direct, breathtakingly fragile and assertive at the same time. Adore.

Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 03/18/08 at 03:42 PM That was pretty hot.

Posted by Bridger Madison on 06/18/08 at 10:54 PM Lovely.

Posted by Maria Francesca on 06/22/08 at 10:08 PM just so beautiful.

Posted by Melanie J Yarbrough on 07/10/08 at 12:01 PM absolutely beautiful

Posted by Ava Blu on 07/13/08 at 01:08 AM Well, what the hell can I add after all those comments? I seem to love everything you post.

Posted by Meghan Helmich on 08/27/08 at 05:00 PM i feel like a stalker adding a comment to every one of your poems. especially when i can't say anything new other than skipping around the statement that i'm infatuated with you(r writing) hah

Posted by Carolyn Coville on 09/20/08 at 12:48 AM your words are just so real, so honest...glimpses of life at its best, its worst..I don't know what else to say!

Posted by Nanette Bellman on 10/18/08 at 03:29 PM it's great to go and reread pieces like this. everytime i pick up something new from it. once again, amazingly beautiful.

Posted by John Ilotan on 09/12/09 at 07:03 PM Great write. Beautiful in it's honesty and intimacy. I'm glad I came across it.

Posted by Melissa Kosswig on 12/30/09 at 03:55 PM i agree with the above comments. this is sheer perfection. really really wonderful.

Posted by Jem Medley on 03/14/10 at 02:38 PM beautiful

Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/05/10 at 02:33 PM elliot, this must be timeless. you wrote it in '8 and i didn't get to see it til now...and i love how it talks to you...all of us are Walter Mittys when it comes talking out of the heart.

Posted by Blue Medley on 07/22/10 at 12:59 AM i REALLY love this poem, i spent 3 days looking for it again hah, she's a lucky girl.

"Zipped Lips" by Aaron Blair

Your Locked-Shut Lips

by

Aaron Blair

You close your mouth and it's
the closing of a door, or the lid
of a coffin, so that no words will
ever pass between us again.

Your tongue won't be trapped
in between my biting teeth.

Tell me, how do things die?
Is it because they are left
untended, and to their own
hapless devices? Were we
such irresponsible lovers?
Did we never think of
a way to see it through?

I won't stop wanting you.
You'll be in me until you're
an abstract, an idea not
attached to a person, until
even your face is gone
and all I have is the poems
to remind me why I still care.

I'll dream your mouth, and
it will open, say "I love you,"
before I slide my waiting
tongue into its home.

Loud and Clear - by Janine Euladia

loud and clear

by

Janine Euladia

My optimistic belief that...
we could last,
scares me

So pessimism sits on the other side
to catch me
when I fall

In the end
I am always very dissappointed
I don't trust myself

Though, usually it's I who ends it, I have to
I know my limitations,
I can not accept

mental deficiencies, weaknesses
such as a bad temper or the dreaded...
inability to communicate

I cannot tolerate the dark
when one can simply open their mouth
and shed light

So far you speak loud and clear
Thank you!
Maybe this time...

03/27/2007

Author's Note: The pessimistic optimist

Posted on 03/27/2007

Copyright © 2009 Janine Euladia

Member Comments on this Poem

Posted by Matthew Sharp on 03/27/07 at 12:54 AM nice reality. your view of it is so fine and easy to get a hold of. elegant.

Posted by Hellen Gramling on 03/27/07 at 06:38 AM Wow, I feel like this all the time; I'm always envious of those who can write/speak fluently of happiness and whatnot. Wonderful expression and clarity. I loved the structure as well. Great write.

Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 03/27/07 at 08:43 PM I like the directness of this. I've got to admit I laughed when I read "dreaded...inability to communicate." I think I would have capitalized that part, or something...

Shy Ones...Stevn Craig

Shy Ones

by

Steven Craig

Shy ones often have small issues in knowing what to say.

They often do better being told what to do.

When the decision is not theirs, they excel and put better energy into everyone’s lives.

Being shy is an interesting feeling.

At once, you feel sheltered from the chaos around you, and at the same time, do desire to be involved in the middle of all that chaos.

When end moment that comes makes you see the chaos desired approach, it is so easy to pull back, retreat to quiet spaces where the mind consoles and the touch of needed safety is perceived.

Perhaps, you are afraid of the dragons lurking just beyond, feeling that you do not have the power to make it though the passage.

Retreat is a place that makes you feel familiar with your hiding, in a way, a lie that things are as they have always been.

Is it that much of a salvation, that great of a relief to have permission to speak, permission to perform, permission to be accepted, when that allowance is given to you by one you perceive as a powerful will of integrity and voice that commands both respect and hands you that needed safe spot in life.

Beckoning hands, moving voices, desires that grow with the moment, the expectation, the need to be allowed the relief of knowing you have done so very well because you did not need to make a choice, a decision, voice the answer that has never been and will never be spoken.

Yes, you can do it. If only with and very quietly with a soft word and a softer touch, permission is a gift granted you in advance that, at the stairs threshold, you will be finally happy and content, not with what you did, but with yourself having done it.

09/03/2009

2nd hand introspection

Encounters [ second-hand introspection ]

by

Sara Regina

Tried to go window shopping the other day--
all I saw in them was my own reflection,
and it wasn't for sale.

I bumped into an angel, but
he didn't recognize me. He said:
"Sorry, girl, forgiveness isn't my department,
but can I buy you
a coffee?"

He put in two creamers, one sugar,
without even asking.
He told me he liked my eyes--
they reminded him of an ocean
or something. He was very matter-of-fact.
"I'd kiss you," he explained,
"but your eyes look like all of earth's waters.
Polluted. Sorry, babe, but it's the truth."

I tried to tell him that
he wasn't as golden as I'd assumed, but
he held up one bright hand to stop me.
"We're so careful, you know, in heaven...!"

And tipping his hat
(but not the waitress)
he disappeared.

Well, backhanded praise isn't going to
break my heart anymore.

I walked away, and avoided
windows and angels, after that.

07/14/2004

Author's Note: don't you hate it when...?

Posted on 07/22/2004
Copyright © 2009 Sara Regina

Member Comments on this Poem

Posted by Summer B Osprey on 07/23/04 at 12:52 AM sara...you blow me away again and again. it's just not fair how easily these impressive little vignettes flow from your keyboard. a pox upon you and your talent.

Posted by Melina Raven Maness Diebold on 11/29/04 at 12:54 PM If Clarence Oddbody got a part-time job at Abercrombie. That's what this made me think of. Very nice. Very nice indeed! Peace...

Pearls and Pigs

Pearls and Pigs

by

Alison McKenzie

On softer days
(She quietly remembers the
Crush of velveteen rabbits –
Fuzzy blankets)
The future was an ocean liner
Cutting through the surf
And wind in her hair.

These days bear
The rougher edges
Of reality and truth,
Breasts that give in to
Solar flares,
Indigo storms;
Thighs that once knew
The sculpted sketch
Of finer art,
And hands that drooled
To trace sinew and dreams.

These days there aren’t any takers,
And this can be seen as progress
In a land of pearls and pigs.

08/15/2009

Posted on 08/16/2009

Copyright © 2009 Alison McKenzie

Member Comments on this Poem
---------------------------------
Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/16/09 at 07:19 PM

I sometimes wonder if I first have to have a pearl in my self before I can see it in others. The other day I was watching people walking out of the supermarket - in their ordinariness (that might be described by someone as frumpy or haggard or just plain old). I wondered what wonders they have inside... who they love and who loves them... I smiled to myself and - for that moment anyway - thanked God for humanity - mine and others. Thanks for this lovely thoughtful poem, Alison. Thanks for being beautiful you.

Fences, Curtains, Blinds Etal

"While you gloat over your fence (Philosophical)"
--------------------------------------------------
by Vimal Rony
--------------------

If you take a walk backwards
through your mother's womb
parellely along with me
doing the same
and cover AD's and BC's
we will finally merge
into one.

One single point
where life began.
Your breathe and
my breathe
was the same.
We were the same

Now let us walk forwards
and we split.
One single heart
parted into two
and then it multiplied
as we moved forwards.

You drifted to a continent
and me to another
carrying pieces
of the same heart.
The blessings of
the same creator.

Gradually you drew blinds
over your inner eyes and
built fences around
your heart and land.
Well our heart and our land.

You patronised the creator
the impartial one
as someone that suits
your thinking.
While i watered the garden
for Him and you

Hey you.
You must know
while He weeps
up above,
that His world and
His Children were one

Blame it on you,
the first blind man
who with your
catracted inner eyes
put the first fence
into 'our' earth.

In effect,
it was around His
and our heart that
you hammered it into.
It weeps.


To the first 'blind' man in whose fence we all got caught up and to those who are still blinded.
03/22/2004
Posted on 03/21/2004
Copyright © 2008 Vimal Rony Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kara Hayostek on 03/21/04 at 02:04 PM
It was a pleasure to read your latest, very sad portrait of human nature. The last stanza is beautiful.
Posted by Maureen Glaude on 03/21/04 at 06:57 PM
very powerful. Great to see your work again, Vimal. This reminded me of the King Solomon story in the bible, and the two women who were fighting for the same baby, and were told the only fair way to share the baby was to rip him in half (and of course the lesson was the real mother wouldn't bear for that to be done). Fine poem.
Posted by Stephanie Kent on 03/21/04 at 08:33 PM
It's wonderful to see you posting again. This is very emotionally raw, and different from your older style, but still good:) "Gradually you drew blinds over your inner eyes and built fences around your heart and land. Well our heart and our land."
"we are all destined.Our destinies are destined by the cosmic roll of the dice,the whims of the stars,the vagrant breezes of fortune that flows from the windmills of the God".I don't remember who said this but i do believe in it.