What are verses for, if not for the dew?

Poetry and writing blog to share the madness and beauty in my mind. You can find me at @fragiledewdrop. The blog title is a verse by Pablo Neruda.

[calvinpoet-deactivated20240605]

tithe

i want you to notice my eyes and bring stolen sapphires to my hands © 2021 calvin

[goneahead]

and I will slip blood diamonds into

your pockets. I know the shaft to

your heart is as deep as Hades, but

what if your gaze could also be mine?

~~~~~

@calvinpoet ❤️ for the prompt!

tag! @dirtyfilthy @cruxymox @quietdissidentlyricist @narniaandthenorth @thedge-of-forever @betweenthetimeandsound @distilled-prose and anyone who wants to join! tag! you’re it!

[betweenthetimeandsound]

You then layer pearls across my neck from oysters your crushed with your feet, kissing my cheeks with cut lips and taking in my blood. Your rings bury themselves on my back, and I am marked for dead– the gods will not forgive me for letting myself shower in your golden indulgences.

@versesforthedew @somebodyssongbird @roman–empyre @bk-poetry Let’s see what you can do with this!

[versesforthedew]

your breath carves secret pathways

in the volcanic body

of a pumice stone,

and I float on onyx waves

that once married Pompeii to the sea-

an eruption

would have been less savage.

@blackmoonmusings @eveesque this might be fun :)

[versesforthedew]

BEGGAR OF JOY

Joy is not conquered nor deserved,

It is given, like breadcrumbs to a beggar,

It falls from a full table beyond Saturn

Where beings we can't imagine feast on bliss.

I am not ashamed of sitting on the curb

With hands outstretched and a plea on my lips:

Blessings to those that passing spare me glances,

Sadness for those that avert their eyes,

But curses on those unknown demigods

That won't lend me the leavings of their banquet.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

A POUND OF DIVINITY

They sell divinity by the pound

In the market around the corner

Where dreams are hung to dry.

A green lantern bathes the street in tilted awe

And we are all gods for a moment,

We eat sainthood and spit its pit

That goes to bless cracked asphalt,

And Jupiter's eye watches us grow taller

Until we hold the sky on our nape.

The weight of omniscience is too much

And we crumble, yet tomorrow

We'll come at the vendor's call,

Stars like dimes in our waiting hands

And madness in our gaze.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

THE GATES OF FROST

(Based on my November prompts)

A web of hoarfrost slithers up dark metal

Barring

Spring from my view.

In it I find unblinking eyes,

Waves crashing on silent shores

With sea glass for pebbles,

And a seagull with a broken wing

Feathers turned gray,

Its cry a dirge

For ships not yet sunk,

A dirge for the dying year.

The frozen gates stop breath from flowing free,

My heart playing hopscotch

And my fingers blue.

Abandoned like a stranded jellyfish

I laugh new songs of unbroken hibernation,

New lullabies for the fox curled in its burrow

And for the fire curled inside my chest.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.

[versesforthedew]

CADERE E CEDERE

Cadere e cedere,

Vestigia di veleno,

Miele e macello.

Vecchie pietre

Sussurrano maledizioni a mezzogiorno

E foglie cadute rispondono

In esametri spezzati.

Magia in pentole annerite

Rende giovane un volto di vecchia

E ruba anni d'argento

Alla bambina che canta

Sull'altalena.

Mille fiori appassiscono,

Ma il profumo di lavanda

Pervade la sera,

Mentre il corvo che ha ingoiato il cuore

Del gigante che vive sulle vette

Vola basso e contamina l'orzo,

Prevede carestie di speranza

E acqua inquinata.

Cadere e cedere,

Libertà e libeccio,

Terrore tradito

Per un istante

Di sollievo.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

STURDY BOOTS

(Based on my November prompts)

Old leather boots carry the dust of many roads,

Tired and horizon-hungry.

Step after step hazy destinations

Are ribbons unspooled,

Compass hands that point true north-

Ursa Minor hidden in the lamplight

That flickers in the corner,

Then goes out,

And leads to guessing games,

Leads to labyrinths without walls

But the night

And atlases rewritten

In fluorescent ink.

Soles worn thin, each pebble

Is a mountain,

And climbing is an act of worship

That demands falling

As collateral:

Will I fly, once I pay up

With the tree quarters hidden in my pocket

And the jump from a cliff?

If I will, maybe

I won't need boots

Anymore.

Until then, asphalt awaits,

Enamoured with reveries

And with sweat,

A lover as steady as growing old,

As sure as withering

And laughter,

As unforgivable

As hope.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.

[versesforthedew]

RESILIENT GLASS

(Based on my November prompts)

A stretch of highway covered in glass shards

Glinting, glinting under street lamps,

Under stuttering neon lights,

A beggar's kaleidoscope,

A forsaken rose window

In this cathedral of concrete,

Rumbling cars its organ

And guard rails its pews.

A train goes by,

A screeching benediction,

And the glass melts into a single rainbow

Gone in a second.

Fragility isn't bulletproof,

Yet it endures when vaults are long forgotten.

White roses whisper on silent graves

And wither, wither before the day is gone,

Yet white roses are what my corpse remembers,

White roses and glass turned to white sand.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

FORGIVEN VILLAIN

(Based on my November prompts)

The heat of her gaze pools in my stomach,

It burns and it burns and it burns

Like stars. Like ice. Like acid and like hate.

She betrayed the night sky

And violated the sea,

Oil spilling in the waves,

Plastic tangling in fins.

Her wandering hands found my heart and squeezed,

Drained me like a slaughtered pig,

And yet here I am

Forgiving her.

She wears my face, and that only makes it harder

To look into her eyes and smile

Seventy times seven smiles,

Yet smile I do, and she melts

Not into petrol, but into morning dew,

Into crystalline water, untouched and unyielding,

Into a smile of her own.

I'm a villain as much as I'm a hero.

Marry black holes to sunrise

And you will have a picture

Of my spirit.

Let sunrise kiss black holes

And you will know

What hoping looks like.

Death and rebirth, I look at the sky

Holding my own

Black hand,

I look at the ocean

Drowning my own

Self hate,

And a thousand stars forget their martyrdom

To touch my head

Of repenting pilgrim,

My light that no space-deep abyss

Can swallow,

My incandescent, inexperienced,

Unkillable desire

For white salvation.

I breathe.

For once,

I am alive.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

FALLEN HERO

(Based on my November prompts)

Sing, o goddess, the ruinous guilt of the Hero,

Tell me, o muse, the ingenious evil of this woman.

Fallen tears are fallen brothers,

Are fallen souls gathered by rain.

A broken horn lies on wet grass,

A drop of blood marring its candor.

A pyre burns at Carthage,

Abandoned love a curse

On the moaning southern wind.

My reason left me for the moon,

For white plains, apocalyptic poetry

And flying hippogriffs,

And I have only a mirror of space frost

That reflects nothing, that reflects everything,

And who am I, but a woman?

No armour and no sword,

No lakes of blood, no river Styx

Can mask my softness of mortal flesh,

My all too human pain.

How many arrows will it take

To bring me down?

The cyclops sleeps a drunken sleep,

And, Nobody and Everybody,

I sharpen charred olive wood.

He won't be blinder than I.

A lion roars in a cave in Greece.

I wear its skin.

Am I worthier than his claws of steel?

Does honey grow in my entrails?

I will bring this temple down,

And my torturers

Will die with me.

Is this salvation?

Is it just golden nothingness?

The belly of a wooden horse

Gives birth to my rage,

And embroidered linen will tell

My story on a loom,

Undone night after night.

I am undone

Day after day.

A ship flies beyond

The Pillars of Hercules,

And Purgatory awaits,

An albatross cuts through my sails

And Scylla devours me.

Trembling, trembling on a branch

I feel the fall coming for me.

I let it happen.

I will rot

Like humans rot,

And if a soul is left

Let it wander from tale to tale,

Let it sing from verse

To verse,

Let it become a constellation

That quivers in a puddle,

Let it become the puddle,

Let other fallen leaves

Skate on its surface,

Let the first sun of morning

Kiss it until it evaporates,

Like honour, like remembrance.

My sword rusts in a far off field,

My blood not far behind,

And sing, oh goddess, the ruinous pride of humankind,

Tell me, oh muse, the insignificance

Of glory.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.

[versesforthedew]

THE LANGUAGE OF THORNS

(Based on my November prompts)

I'll give you a rose, a deep red rose,

And a kiss to each soft cheek.

I'll give you a rose, a briar rose,

A whisper of lost passion.

The gift of a rose, a single rose,

Has meanings you know well,

But I don't give you a rose, a fading rose,

For its softness of silk petals:

I love this rose, this wild wild rose,

For its thorns of sharpened silver,

For its swords that pierce,

That pierce grey skies,

Skies that bleed silent rain,

For its thorns that thirst

For its thorns that ache

For its thorns that fight off terror.

The gift of a rose, a dagger-rose,

Speaks a language old as pain.

We are all a rose, a steel-soft rose,

Armed against shadow-despair,

We fight off sorrow, loss and death

With knives made out of bone,

With knives made out of our own limbs,

With knives made silk as skin.

Thorns hide a core

Of honey sweet,

A core softer than hope:

We are closest to

Velvet and down

When we draw swords of wrath,

Because we long

For peace and light

When we drown in the dark.

This gift of a rose, a warrior-rose

Means beauty in bleak pain,

Means hope and fire, and lightning-smiles

That rend the storm in two.

Accept this rose, this soft-hard rose,

Accept this gift of thorns,

And let this rose, this burning rose,

Dispel darkness and night,

For this small rose, this flame-rich rose

Is a warrior of the light.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.

[versesforthedew]

WINGED MESSENGER

(Based on my November prompts)

Fallen angels still deliver messages.

They crawl instead of flying,

Their broken wings dead weights,

Black hole-heavy, stardust-hungry,

The caress of open space almost forgotten.

Dust coats feathers that were once light,

And broken halos pierce bowed heads,

Crown of thorns in an endless crucifixion.

Yet prayers are answered now as they were not

When heaven still boasted full choirs of white flame:

Earthbound, clay-covered, forgotten and abandoned,

They despair as we despair, hope as we hope,

And like calls like with a siren song

Impossible to counter.

Moths to a flame, they consume themselves

In bringing us deliverance.

Welcome the winged messenger at your door,

Offer water and bread, offer a smile

That speaks of absolution,

Because things are not made holy

By untainted grace,

But by mud and sweat,

By blood

And earthly pain.

F. P.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.

[versesforthedew]

Do you like it? Read the full poem here.