Kitten's Litter

I love that Kitten.
Some excellent stuff over these last pages

Love & peace.

 

I really hate to crush.

To be captive in a brazen glance
caught from the sidelines.

To gnaw myself
till I reach bone,
when I see him standing
by another.

I sit in bedlam of the hours,
rapt by how his beryl eyes
reflect force, impulse and defiance.

And as he pounces,
squeezes my knee, draws on my nape,

I quake for the impossible.

 

-infatuation- left me speechless for a moment! awesome stuff, girl! don't change a thing, this one's as perfect as can be

 

Our history is limited
to prying glances
and private monologues.

But my random outburst,
lax speech, and a recount
of a humorous episode,
inspired your attention.

And you’ve just learned,
I’m a prismatic paradox.
I bundle up my intimacy
away from proud strangers.

But now I blossom,
brave and naughty
with frivolous charisma,
class and foreign spice.

So now you want to learn
about my past and present,
read iris memoirs,
decode my secret words.

 

You're such a talented writer...I love all the ones I've read so far...Peace and love...

 

We stumbled upon one another
at the crossroads of crosswords.

I proposed a challenge,
since I was awful cocky
but only half decent.

Declared you as my verbal rival.

Although of course, we both knew
it was a joke,
made out of an attempt to tease
intellectual urges
and contact by proxy.

But once we were snug, there was no use in
censoring body language.

Icebreakers have served their charm,
and whetted our appetite.

 

In a dingy notebook,
I’ve drawn a heart
around someone strange
and anonymous.

I wrote about missing him,
constantly.

I wrote about every incident
that struck a chord.

Until one fine morning,
(eye-openers come with sunrise)
I woke up healed and indifferent.

Baggage off my shoulders,
gone at once.

I’ve earned the right to be selfish,
with a suitcase full of tribulations.

 

Intruder.

Who are you?

I caught you
red-handed
probing the cookie jar.

Satisfying interest.
I’m still a novelty.

My mistake,
unlocked the door.

Open opportunity
and plenty for you to steal.

 

When I wedge
my crafty needles
into the spines
of the stagnated rabble,
they fume
but can’t retort.

And I am tickled
by all their useless,
cooing babble.

Too bad,
I offer no pacifiers.

 

I read -curiosity- over the weekend, loved it thoroughly but was a little too, uh... out of it to comment at that time. So I'm back, and I loved this one... you really put a lot of yourself in your work and this one shows how talented you are at doing it.

Your other new ones were just as good, and seem to flow right into one another... I'm tempted to suggest combining all of em and get an epic masterpiece kicking; that would be too cool.

I enjoyed these thoroughly and am beginning to feel recharged, so many thanks to ya for sharing these!

 

curled up limbs,
tucked in lips,
half-dressed
sitting,
sifting
through
scraps of
mental shots.

each frame
flashes, freezes

and for a second
I breathe damp
autumn,
and blink rare tears.

conjure up more snapshots
to recall, to evoke,
fill in the gaps,
pretend and conceal
my symptoms
of guilt.

 

Last time I saw you,
you still wore
a beige trench coat
and a black beret,
waving to us
on a train platform.

Back at home,
you shuffled
your shackled feet
and whined

and I imitated adult
impatience
and adolescent pride.

Let’s get out of
this musky abode
with no heat or
hot water for years,
heaps of tinted papers
on couches,
and a creaking linoleum
bothering me at night.

I am cramped here.

Let’s leave already.

But he hides our documents.
Then strings lies.

Stupid attempts to stall us
at the doorway.

He’s crazy you know
and look now he’s crying,
and begging not to leave him
alone.

We desert him,
kiss on the cheek
and wave goodbye,
then scurry down the stairs,
huffing and venting.
We run through the mist
with our luggage,
to catch the late train.

We would never return again.

 

dedication continued...

I didn’t write you out of vanity,
selfish notions of isolation,
“all that is not seen is nonexistent”

And I’ve heard rumors,
but was spared the involvement.
Only a spectator,
I speculated but offered
little concern.

Now expectations surface.

But it’s a little late,
and useless
and kind of dirty
to shout compassion.

Feels insincere and wrong
to glorify a loss which
though it comes
as a relief,
it comes along with awkward.

 

As a little girl of no more than eight,
I often strolled on balconies.

Inhaling chill of dawn,
while counting ornaments
of raindrop beads on metal rails.

Bird’s eye view,
milieu on my palm,
and I peeked at the drab faces
of opposite buildings,
wondering if our own facade
looked just as grim and lifeless.

 

all of your dedications are exceptional, capturing sentiments I imagine most would have a difficult time expressing. The sincerity is tangible... those are some poems to be proud of, even if they're

Hope all's well with you, and looking forward to more of this thread!

 

Tilted sun flirts
with ceramic flowers.

Wet apricot skin,
makes taste buds
buzz.

X ray eyes,
invade privacy.

Rare humidity
and unzipped mouths.

Tongue tug-of-war.

Pull me in
for a
rematch.

 

I liked this part most... I vote to call this one -rebound-

 

sore trachea,
barking heat of lungs

expel, expelling
this septic enemy

jammed air,
shot vocal cords

my temper
shakes, claws
at rib cage bars
and walls,

rips brittle sheath,
to unleash
a final roar.

 

Voices
like fine powder
circle round
metro mound.
Palms
like translucent cloth,
shield naked eyes.

Centipedes dart
back and forth,
dodging beggars
and heels.

 

Really like Trachea - brutal scratchy vocab - effective.

Not sure about Immortality yet....let me ponder!