Don't forget, you were warned!

I make no claims to greatness.

This is a collection of some of my <ahem> less good poetry. Believe me, I have some even worse stuff that I wouldn't post here for anything! So this stuff is the best of the worst, as it were. If you want to read some of my poetry that I think is actually good (or at least not embarrassingly bad), click here.


who needs...

(september 1993)

i danced across the tightrope of your mind
who needs a net with your arms stretched wide?
if i fell in love with you, i could fall forever...

i walked through the cavern of your breast
who needs a lamp with your eyes so bright?
i could lose sight of you, in you...

i floated in the ocean of your kiss
who needs a boat with your breath in mine?
i could drown beside the shore...

i cried in the prison of your bed
who needs chains when you say you love me?
i could break free if i needed you less.


Simile

(spring 1993)

Like a leaf falling from a tree
So falls the touch of your eyes on me.
Red as an ember and deep as the sea
Burns through my skin your gaze.

Like a cloud that floats above
So wafts my mind through the wond'rings of
Whether your friendship might turn into love
And what message your silent look says.

Like a tear as it brushes the cheek
So flows my friendship so quiet and meek.
Every word that to me you shall speak
Echoes throughout my being.

Like an embrace as it folds me close
So grips me my sorrow in thoughts so morose
I shudder to think what angry ghost
Of me, when alone, you are seeing.

Like the pain of the world is my love now unfurled.


Untitled

(1993?)

I left
words unspoken
things forgotten
promises broken
trust gone rotten
Left you to languish
till silent your anguish
Called to me
Shattered my heart
in golden shards at your feet.
You left
stones unturned
thoughts unvoiced
so passion burned
and I rejoiced
because I knew not
how could I know?
I loved you so
That I was blind
I lost my mind
You gave it back and
turned my life black....


Where?

(1991)

Where do the clouds go
when the rain has stopped?
You look at me
and what do you see
but a girl who has answers without questions
and solutions to problems that don't exist?
I look at you
and what can I do
but close my mouth and shake my head
to end the pain
and avoid the anger?
If the clouds must go somewhere
after the rain,
If I monthly flush uncreated life
down the drain,
If I remain silent to hide the pain,
where do we stand and
where can we go?
You don't know my name and I
don't know your face,
we stumble along with barely the will
to survive:
we have not the wisdom
to see the next obstacle looming,
so we trip over it as we did the last,
and the one before, and eternally before that.
And we wonder why our feet hurt so much.
I wonder where
do the clouds go, and where
will my life go, and where
are the words to make you understand?
But I ponder in silence,
to keep myself safe
from your looks of confusion
and your constant noncomprehension
that cuts to my heart with frustration and despair.
But unspoken always I carry the question,
where do the clouds go
when the rain has stopped?


Yoyo

(before 1991)


my yoyo is
purple
or
maybe it's green or orange
doesn't really matter because
when it comes to yoyos
(as unfortunately opposed to people)
color doesn't really matter
my yoyo is
spinning
(better it than me)
it spins and goes up and down
at the same time doesn't it get
dizzy?
I would --
sometimes I think I'm
a yoyo
or at least I'm
on a yoyo string
my string is just the right length
(or the wrong)
I sail toward the bottom
at a terrifying speed
(I'm spinning too now)
but just before I hit the ground I
reach the end of my string
and go sailing back up again,
buoyed heavenward by
my downward momentum.
The fingers that have
yoyo strings
tied around them come
in all shapes and sizes
with all kinds of
callouses
(if I were a yoyo
would I make callouses?)
but
my yoyo string has
no hand at the end, there's
nothing for me to snap securely into
yet
somehow I reach the end of the string, and
once more
I'm going
down
(sometimes I feel like
I'm a yoyo)
does a yoyo ever wish
it could be
something else
?
I know
I do.


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D. Joan Leib
fic@englishchick.com
Last updated 10 February, 2000