Pluto

------

 

I run
far away
to some place
drowned in silence

unbelievably
there is this tiny echo
of a voice
you once used
and it chases
me home

these memories
have come to resemble
scars that no
longer bleed

and I am still searching
for silence

 

- Ash 2005

Standstill

---------

 

Tramp

------

 

This Year

-----------

fault

is found
in high expectations
of myself
in false hopes
for my potential
in desperate attempts
to blame you
for my shallow
superficial

pains

we fight
because I am still
a child
eager to please
reluctant to
acquiesce

we love because
you are gracious
forgiving
and so amazingly

imperfect.

I Am

I am
oxygen
that some will never breath
yet the euphoria
found in suffocation

I am
the tingle that a moment brings
to every cell
of the being
I bring pins and needles

I am
sufficient for the orgasm
and the caress
of every part of the soul

-Ash 2005

(Ash writes:)  Yay for contests!  I haven't written anything new since the "Scents" contest, so I was beginning to get down on myself.  Then, gotpoetry.com started a new contest calling for poems about "Music".  I LOVE this poem and I'm so glad I was given some sort of prompt.  I don't feel useless anymore!

This is my ode to the Smashing Pumpkins - one of THE greatest rock bands ever.  Scratch that - they should have their own genre, rock is just too small an idea for the Pumpkins.  Okay, here goes:

Melancholy

 

I suddenly remember painting my toenails

on my bedroom floor

Corgan telling me about cleanliness

and godliness

Oh

I’m a bullet

or a butterfly

I can’t really remember

but I do recall the scent

of purple passion polish

splashed on my mother’s

Berber carpet

The day was the greatest

day

I have ever

really

Voices from the kitchen

always echoed

down the tiled hall

and apparently the smell of nail paint

carries well around corners

if you’re already grounded

and summer break

is a week away

Oh Billy

keep me company

until I can no longer remember

why I cry

I know all the words to all your songs

a different album for every memory

Billy you take me back

and I have strange dreams

about a Siamese something or other

I also can’t ever remember how to spell

Melloncholy?  Cholie? 

Never mind  

Once

 

I don’t know how I ever
breathed
without you.
How did I find the strength to wake in the morning?
Whose voice was it that echoed?

Echoed
in my sleep?
It could not have been your own.
Or could it?

I can’t remember
why I took a single
step
without knowing you were my final destination.
Where was I going
before I saw you
waiting?
Patiently.

And everything I ever believed was real – well
it simply cannot compare.

What brought me here?
To this place
where you’ve become my nourishment
because food is no matter,
my lungs because oxygen
does nothing now,
my rest because I can’t sleep while I’m waiting for you
to say my name again.
How did I live?
How could I ever return to that
existence
if I ever lost you?

 

- Ash 2005

Deep (entry for a contest, subject "Scent")

 

To the first man I ever fell for:
To this day, you have always picked me up
I look up to you
like you will never know
You were a god in my life
a force
I cannot describe

and your cologne
that thick, warm, familiar scent
invoked comfortable sleep
hearty laughter
powerful tears

It remains burned into my skull
But maybe it wasn’t the cologne
maybe it was just a sensation
I could never shake

I need you to know, Dad
no matter what happens
you will always
be the first hand I ever held
the first cheek I ever kissed
first heart I broke
first worry I caused
My first memory altogether

And you should know
the new man in my life
comes so close to filling
that spot you made for him
And his cologne smells good
but not nearly as familiar yet
as your deep, comfortable scent

Though he certainly tries . . .

 

-Ash 2005

Honor Guard Blues

 

The light of the bedside lamp
reflects boldly
from the toes of his shoes.
A purposeful crease
runs the length of each leg
until it is met
by the hem of his jacket.
The buckle
of a perfectly aligned belt
glints in the dim light.

The man adjusts his collar
toggles each ribbon
until it sits
impressively straight
on his breast.
He smoothes each dark sleeve
with a swipe
of his tense hand
and completes the look
with a foreboding cap.

He shoots
a breath-taking grin
down to me on the bed.
And I forget to breathe.

My American husband
in his Honor Guard
blues
steps out the door
as I drift back to sleep
dreaming of
taking it all off again.

 

-Ash 2005

This one also got a really great reaction from my friends at gotpoetry.com.  It did require a little explanation, though, so I'll post that at the end for a little clarification.

White Tank

soaked in the desert silence
we roll up the back road
the night air is thick with black and
that massive mountain looms
almost invisible in the darkness
the standing saguaros seem
an obstacle for the dull glow
radiating from flickering lights
in the bustling city below
but out here on this mountain
we feel the absolute stillness
of a moonless night

in moments like this
it becomes impossible to move
because the glitter of a million
orange and white and red lights
will cease to mesmerize
and sound will quicken its speed
until the roar of the city
beckons us home

whatever you do
don’t move

"Just a few miles from home there's a stout bump-in-the-dirt they call the White Tank Mountains. The only reason I can imagine they'd call them the White Tanks is because it is the obviously ideal geographic location for the large water tanks that provide water to the area. The name is just a major lack of creativity on the part of locals, but the actual park provides some pretty cool hiking paths that take one up inside water falls (dried out, due to the severe drought). Anyway, it gets pretty secluded up there at night, so even though the gates to the park are closed and locked after hours, one can park right outside and, since the elevation is just right, stare back out at the glitter of city lights for miles in several directions. It's pretty cool, and a great place to go if you'd like to see some stars, because once you're back in the city limits, the stars go back into hiding."

This won a lot of positive commentary on my poetry site, so I thought I'd share here.

Seamus's

sunlight from the street
shines through the lager
stretches across the bar
sliding through the cracks
between his fingers
highly reminiscent of
an emotion he cannot recall

the cubs are sweeping the reds
and the tv has no sound
thirty five minutes to go
and then back to the cubicle
soaked in the dim light
of his drowning potential

up front the door swings wide
burning dust in more glorious rays
her small, dark frame
is the shadow in the threshold
as he turns to pay the bill
before her silhouette
finds his

- Ash 2005