And here are the first few poems to inaugurate this foray into the poetry-blogging world. If only you (my dear readers that must have wandered far to stumble on this blog) could have read my first poems, but really I'm so glad you can't, you'd understand how far I've come. Perhaps in five years I'll say the same about these babies. But here goes, the blog begins with this tentative post, like I'm sliding a paper towards you with an offer I'm not sure you'll accept:
A response
He sings me.
He highs and lows,
Plucks and bows
Opens up and reads me
He wilds and tames like dancing flames
Like cinnamon candy, or sweet burning brandy
Over cherries jubilee.
He winds and spools,
Suns and cools,
Drinks me down and holds me.
Enfolds me
Open his eyes and beholds me
He changes, ranges,
Ascends and mends
And like a wheel he turns me,
Heals and burns me
Wakes and breaks,
Soothes and aches,
And like the wind he shakes me
May, July and Decembers me
And he remembers me.
You are
You are the moth to my favorite sweater.
The moment after my pen runs out of ink.
You are the morning after bad fish.
You are the mud puddle,
That I didn’t see until too late
And I get soaked to the knee.
You are the flat tire for the umteenth time leaving me stranded in a place
Where the wind never stops howling
And the rain is always cold.
You are old gum.
Canine tumors.
Wet hair on a cold day.
You are,
Unpleasant.
Worker's Compensation
I never knew until I knew.
Each day in your presence
Takes a teaspoon of my soul
Time I'll never reclaim.
I don't hate you, But I miss those pieces.
Will you give me back the soul I lost,
The time I gave and talent I wasted?
- by Amy Kyle
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