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sister yesterdayeven our plastic flowers had faded—
overgrown garden of concrete and pottery,
wrought-iron furniture under the sunlight, paling—
broken lawnmower in a rotting wood shed, a swingset
creaking with each gust of wind—

but she said,
let's gather up those old tin cans,
empty the pool of its stagnant memory,
relight the citronella and oil these rusted hinges,
recall the laughter we shared here when
summer was in bloom—

when that sky blue dress was on our mother
and she planted those pinwheels,
lazily spinning,

dizzy.
scraps and sacramentsyou,
beautiful siren girl with melodies
entangled in her hair: you are
shell-shocked and sea-struck
even though you cannot stand
the sensation of sand beneath
your toes.

you have fingers for prying, picking,
pulling at your skin and nesting
in that hollow space between
your bones. and if anyone asks,
you will swear there are monsters
sleeping in the concaves of your ribs;
there are ghosts beneath your tongue,
embittered, and you are not the words
you speak.

they say there is an answer, little girl
(sometimes you begin to believe you are
a scarecrow on the border of reality
begging people to turn the other way;
and the mirror will agree)
tracks of neverending lightmy tears dry out in the summer sun as i hang them on the line
i fold them into kaleidoscopes and put them away for now
i wont need them

my pain is put in little jars
i cap them off with innocence and peace
tying them with strings like tinsel
yes, it could break, but that doesn't matter right now

my laughter is buried back behind the old shoe boxes
i wrap my hands around their less than cardboard surfaces
they're heavy, filled with my footsteps
my waltzing, dizzying wandermarks
i pull a giggle out from under the floor boards and tuck it in my pocket

my smile is hanging in the closet
its a good thing teeth dont wrinkle
i mend the tiny cracks
In Piecesrum-lust lips make gentle friends,
words slurred in hands blurred,
burning in between the lines to find
some
drunken concoction of wilted laughs
and heavy sighs, scented sultry
with desperation.

you are that
rasping in my throat when my voice
deteriorates and I am left breathless
and hopeless and raw, my
muscles ache in memory of the
motions to forget-
we do not let go.

and cold beds call, stability,
metal frames and sunken heads –
rest now, rest with
a prayer on your lips you don't
care to share, a dream in
your mind you'll never get back;
rest and the earth will lend you peace
and

you will stop. the rivers will cle
the night in Sagadalily-white fingers

forget-me-not eyes

dandelion bones

the unfurling
of wildfire,
the sound of
hair and sinew
cracking then breaking.

ripped then burned
then smothered.

the song
of raven wings
and starving
moons.

the soul of
a dispassionate
body billowing
like the waves beneath
dead skies.

your grave.
Within WinterDespite the barren trees
and naked branches,
the silent descent of bleach-white snow
and the stillness of ice-
despite the slumbering fauna
and the odorless cold,
the blinding blankness
of too much sun-
Winter is alive,
the chill is fresh,
and underneath the surface
it is 
quickening,
gently
quickening.
Cunning LinguistYou remember the sigh of her lips
as she said, "craft me in metaphors,"
and you remember the swell of her breasts
(and boy, weren't they swell?),

but what was the point in time when
she became an object to you:
glorified poetry, all the more lovelier
for being print on paper?

(she insisted on using the type-writer:
she didn't want the stylistic flourish
of your hand.)

What was she, then?

A gramophone face, box jaw
opening and needle-point tongue
rising as she trilled song after song,
as much a linnet bird as she
was a record player;

her sculpted neck
the gradient of a ski-slope,
but you'd never call her
lily-white
(no gal likes to be com
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
     i. summergirl,
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
surefooted smile.
     ii. you have grown
so fast.
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
perched treetop,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
     iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams 
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
summergirl, th
quagmireJust like in everything
I pursued with a 
backwards stride,
I'm reaching
back
to undo
the strings & knotting
our fingers
so I can't 
work free
from the tangle
of our wrongings—
the ones I
can't make
to feel wrong.
—
Were I a saint,
I'd be one of sins.
--
1/20/2013
Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All Rights Reserved.
I only fear myselfi.

For my birthday last year, I asked for rain:

no, for a storm, thick with thunder,
where every drop fell heavy and hard
weather which had blown in from the Pacific,

weather I could catch in my throat,
full to the brim and overflowing
to leave skin bruised,

bursting every berry on the boughs
tearing the blossoms and buds,
but the summer turned to drought
and I cooled my heels in the cellar instead.

ii.

This year the air is swaddling,
hot and humid, the sky a bolt of blue
hung with clouds, rich and royal,

and Christ's Mass dawns godless.
The night before had cusped on Winter's Solstice,
stretching long enough for a dream of you.

Somew
for evelynmy how he loves his evelyn so;

(can’t you feel the ricochet of his heart my dear-)

swallowing secrets; feel white wined lips & hold her soft for another kiss

slipping fingers; feel hands uneven (so perfectly though)

shimmer its bittersweet-

(baby blanket scars from daffodil-touched smiles in motions slow & sun ending pearls that breathed colors true)

kissing her again back to sleepless dreams all spotted in glitter salt & june bud limbs

(give her more tea speckled with sweet evergreen)

my she’s a beautiful dreamer isn’t she?

my evelyn
coffee talkthey speak in the
rattle of coffee cups—


sea bent lungs await the press 
of the espresso crave lips
as taste fills curling limbs
settling the
stars 
in—.
The Jailori. 

the room smelled of paint and chocolate;
a stain that won’t wash out no matter how vigorously you grate,
no matter how deeply you peel.
 
 
 

ii.

“Mothers never cry when their boys run towards large army tanks, and fishermen never weep when they return home with nothing.” These were my forced whispers in her ear.
 
 

 
iii.
 
ticking antiques and wooden furnishing,
a land flowing with silk and money.
it was no consolation.
pain still trickled through.

 

iv.
 
I told her that I don’t kiss women on the mouth, and by day I left her to her own thoughts. That’s when she finally listened and stopped her c
catch twenty-two"i love the way you look
in candlelight," you will say

where you flicker
reposed,
your skin the kind of orange
that comes sober in sunset,
just sweltered into the blues
before it completely dies out,
dusk fit into the contours of your skin-

but unlike the sun
you're more of a chasm-
what we will say is
an inherent, permanent flicker
in the darkest of your december bedroom
before we try to sleep
but i only find myself staring at you
wondering when the light will die

and the burning next to me
will become an icy cold
and the light under your eyelids
will cool into its natural blue
and your cheekbones will freeze
so they cannot fit into my h
post meridiemi am no lionheart.
look closely. there are small cracks
along my fragile frame. where purple
and blue blossom underneath flesh,
and pink/white lines decorate hidden skin.
i am far from what you see.
Browse More Like This

More from *Hfeather53

seedling's lamentLike a seed
I fell out of
Their tree
Never finding a home
In their poorly tended
Soil

Covered, shrouded in
My cocoon I hid
All those winters
Waiting impatiently for
You to plant me

Drowning in floods
Now cracked and soft
My shell opens
And I root myself
In the palms of
Your hands

I will give you oxygen
Until you've breathed
All of me in
My green thumbed lover
the way it should beMy breath lays like a fog
Misting on your skin
Let it bleed through
With my musings
Mix with your fluids
And become one
With my song
That ferries you nightly
On bruised angel's wings
Providing strength to
Extremities
And peace to your bones

- Sleep
anxiously hopefulfailure floats ever near
wary hands and heart
wait anxiously
for hope

Featured in Groups

:iconpoeticalcondition:
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i don't tell you enough -

:iconhfeather53:

fair-haired child
with a hesitant touch,
how you've grown.
motherless daughter with
eyes as alive as spring
(which wish
they could forget what they've seen),
i love you.

the cars you crash into
and the scars that you carry
never keep you from sky-castles
that are far beyond your reach.
you, who vanquishes her head-foes
with the cadence of her rocking
and the rhythm of an ever-anxious heart,
are lovelier,
are braver,
are wiser than you take credit for;

because even though your heart remembers
how lovers become calloused and impatient
with your flighty soul -
you will always return to the heavens.

you will always carve your path
out of the darkest forests.
even with your beaten and clipped wings,
you choose to fly;
keep on, faithful-dreamer.

you're sure to find your dawn.

77

12 17 1
:iconhfeather53:

i don't tell you enough -by *Hfeather53

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written for :iconpoeticalcondition:'s love letter to yourself contest found here: [link] (better late than never... this was a challenge for me)
©2013 *Hfeather53
Category: Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

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February 26
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:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 28, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
are lovelier,
are braver,
are wiser than you take credit for

--so very true.

I really liked the final stanza and line.
Reply
:iconhfeather53:
*Hfeather53 Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you :hug:
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
welcome :hug:

good luck in the contest.
Reply
:iconhfeather53:
*Hfeather53 Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thanks (though i read others that are way better than mine, haha. it was cathartic to write.)
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
(they can't be that much better, if at all.
but I'm glad it was cathartic for you ^^)
Reply
:iconhfeather53:
*Hfeather53 Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
(oh... oh they are)
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
:iconohyouplz:
Reply
:iconncgirl:
Mood: Love *ncgirl Feb 27, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
This brought tears to my eyes, how wonderful and sweet!
Reply
:iconhfeather53:
*Hfeather53 Feb 27, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
awww... :tighthug: i'm glad you enjoyed it
Reply
:iconperfling:
*Perfling Feb 26, 2013  Student General Artist
Such a delicate poem - fragile in the mouth :) Love it!
Reply
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