Rotten Pots Poetry

I might write things here...

[jasmineroberta]

Exhilaration rises on it's hind legs-

Like a Portuguese lion

I am the sound of relentless forgiveness.

The winds whisper and travel the hidden valley Of flesh.

And I am

Now a

Speck of dust blown from revision.

Changing currents slow and gelid, then

Fast,

Faster,

Becoming

Ever present in a sea of dirt.

Once, I dreamed of diamonds and

Like moments , I lost them all

Faster than light

They scattered like stones

Harder than September is to separate

My love.

Like an elusive adder,

Now gone,

Content in its bend.

For when it's right,

When it's so damn free,

New,

The essence hides at the bottom of the bowl.

Jasmine Allen ©

[jasmineroberta]

How stupid it seems

Trying to

Show you my guts.

Good bye

Comes easily, though

Leaving feels tried.

Why do we collide?

Its just one year inside

And we're already so

Damaged and mean.

I won't want to make

The same

Mistakes, but

We are both heavy

And empty.

Burdened

With the determination to stay

Carless and free.

An old cassette tape

Plays

A muffled song

From ribbons

Running through the six.

Love is no wonder

A hard place to be

When no one

Wants to

Say

What they mean.

Jasmine Roberta ©

[jasmineroberta]

~~For the Embers we Stoke~~

For all those lost in the thought of one day,

Half caught between the light they make; Waking themselves up from the permanence of punishment.

There will be no absolution for fire set by smoke.

No mother’s feathered coat in the rain that trickled through it.

As thick as the night grew,

By morning we’ll be fossils.

To flowers,

No water without salt left to kiss.

It is only earth,

In the sun,

In the waves,

In the mud.

Jasmine Allen ©

[jasmineroberta]

Doesn't it all

Feel a bit like

A semantic dance¿

A waltz

Entertained

By the partners, we seek¿

How strange it is to

Simply Speak.

In spaces, we've come into

And on

To the echo, it leaves

Behind.

I remember

Such a long distance

Between

You. and I.

Though our faces touched

And your breath

Became my atmosphere.

Your sound was like

A static radio

Broadcasting the same instinctual vibration

With frequencies

Only shared with others

Like you

Or with those likely waiting for the bend.

I hope that tomorrow

The fault lines beneath us

Become fixed

In their place.

And this air

Thick

And absolute

Reaches its fullest expanse

And

Falls

Into

The hollows.

Jasmine Allen. ©