pearls

Afterthought 1467—Never Will I Be

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2016/12/08

I'll never be a friend you want or need
as long as I can't be what you assume
to be the one behind words you misread.

You give freely? I'm wondering, to whom?
Never once will that special one be me
as long as I can't be what you assume.

No matter how I try, I'll never be
a friend you want or need. I'm not —
never once will that special one be me.

What you expect of me I haven't got
nor will I ever get it. I can't do that —
a friend you want or need I'm not.

I can't act like how what you're getting at
when who I'm not is who you say I am,
nor will I ever. Get it? I can't do that.

What an unconscionable unmitigated sham
to be the one behind words you misread
when who I'm not is who you say I am!
I'll never be a friend you want or need.

Afterthought 180—One Must Not

Posted in nothing special, terzanelle by maggie on 2015/04/14
 
          "One must never be angry about 
          how little they say is left." --Sara 
 
 
One must never be annoyed
over how little we've said gets left
behind to fill the void.
 
Nor must one be angered at the theft
of hours wasted, of tears spent
over how little we've said gets left.
 
Nor must one be puzzled how it went
down so quickly, with scarce a thought
of hours wasted, of tears spent.
 
Nor must one regret how we fought
to keep it alive long after it died,
down so quickly with scarce a thought.
 
Nor must one mourn our love's suicide.
One can only take pleasure hoping but
to keep it alive long after it died.
 
Our lights are out, our doors shut.
One must not recreate what's destroyed.
One can give and take pleasure hoping, but
one must not be annoyed.

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Protected: Underscoring 101—The Coping Saw

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2014/10/17

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Indifferent Walk

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2011/03/14
Indifferent Walk

With nowhere good to go except back home,
her walking takes her there and back again
as she believes she'd started out, no aim

to bear in mind, no milestone to be seen
by chance or meant. To her, moonlight guides
her walking, takes her there and back. Again

she stops to sit. What keeps her out eludes
her. Had her hours lost all on this one street
by chance, or meant to? Her moonlight guides

illuminate dead ends like dreams she can't wait
to get back into. That turn there, it was once
her, had her. Hours lost all on this, one street

is the same as any other backward glance
nowhere particular, no moment she'd felt, loved
to get back. Into that. Turn. There it was, once.

A bird talks in its sleep. She answers, as removed
as she believes. She'd started out no aim,
nowhere particular, no moment she'd felt loved,
with nowhere good to go except back home.

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Houston

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2010/04/12

Expect to find me gone, I won't be back —
    I'd rather poke my eyes out with a fork!
I'm leaving now.  Excuse me while I pack.

This never was my home, not like New York,
    not even as a way to pass the time
— I'd rather poke my eyes out with a fork.

I used it for a joke.  Is that a crime?
    The ones stuck living here ain't worth much more,
not even as a way to pass the time.

So long as I've got what I came here for,
    I'm getting out, with nothing left behind
— The ones stuck living here ain't worth much more.

I'm told I just don't look right, else I'd find
    I could've had it all.  Yeah well, not here.
I'm getting out, with nothing left behind.

So goodbye Houston, kiss my bony rear!
    I'm leaving now, excuse me while I pack.
I could've had it all.  Yeah well, not here.
    Expect to find me gone.  I won't be back.

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Always Something You

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2009/07/24
Always Something You

Though every morning brings me dream anew,
tomorrow I'll be just as ever yours.
My waking word is always something you.

Though parts of me may still look like they're hers,
most all of that belongs to yesterday.
Tomorrow I'll be just as ever yours.

So much is better left where last it lay -
How brief, the time of those in whom we trust!
Most all of that belongs to yesterday,

to nightmares simmered in decay and rust
where love once laughed and played without remorse.
How brief, the time of those in whom we trust!

Though I myself am nothing more, of course,
there's one place I will always call my home
where once love laughed and played without remorse.

I'm only by myself, I'm not alone -
your heart will always be what I call home.
Though every morning brings me dream anew,
my waking word is always something you.

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My Silence, Your Poetry

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2009/07/24
My Silence, Your Poetry

My words aren't worth the trouble to lampoon,
while yours I wouldn't dare - I cherish each.
I'm hoping we'll see yours again here soon.

The breaths I want are just beyond my reach.
It's best I just pretend they're never there,
while yours I wouldn't dare - I cherish each.

Just one more of your touches, goes my prayer.
My own are cold as ice and black as sin -
It's best I just pretend they're never there.

Our dreams create the worlds we're born within -
yours like fire and light and faith and love,
my own are cold as ice and black as sin.

Each moment changes on the edges our songs are made of,
my visions' meanings dipped in the darkest void,
yours like fire and light and faith and love.

It's poetry, what you compose from what I've destroyed.
My words aren't worth the trouble to lampoon,
my vision and meanings dipped in the darkest void.
I'm hoping we'll see yours again here soon.

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Your Silence, Your Word

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2009/07/23
Your Silence, Your Word

I love your silence; I revere your word.
Don't make me choose between.
Both are treasured; neither goes unheard.

It's not made by machine,
this dance between what's said and what is not -
don't make me choose between.

These sterile lines hold all the moves I've got.
It's not like that for you,
this dance between what's said and what is not -

you're magic through and through.
Can solitude its own companion find?
It's not like that for you -

the two are of one voice, one heart, one mind.
You're time, you're space, you're how
can solitude its own companion find.

Don't make me leave you now.
I love your silence; I revere your word,
your time, your space.  You're how
both are treasured.  Neither goes unheard.

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Not Good At This

Posted in terzanelle by maggie on 2009/07/15
Not Good At This

Alright, my room is empty, set to go,
no more than I can carry, keep the rest,
this might not mean goodbye, I'll let you know.

I posted what I could, you've seen the best,
but I've got some of yours to take along,
no more than I can carry, keep the rest.

Let's not do kisses, I'd just get it wrong,
I never had the time to do them well,
but I've got some of yours to take along.

I've made arrangements for my clientele
except for one I'm wishing I could keep,
I never had the time to do them well.

My promises are thin, my talk is cheap,
my dreams are headed somewhere out the door,
except for one I'm wishing I could keep.

It wasn't you.  It's me.  I can't do more.
Alright, my room is empty, set to go,
my dreams are headed somewhere out the door,
this might not mean goodbye, I'll let you know.

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