Saccharine Irony

This site is a compilation of fluid thoughts, a collection of poetry, random glimpses of humor and tragedy, spontaneous notions of an extremely sensitive mind.

An Attempt At Nerudan Poetry December 16, 2008

Filed under: Poetry — Aimee @ 9:25 am
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~

I Have Watched You Ever So Silently

~~~

I have watched you ever so silently,
watched you with eyes still weary with slumber
and eyes alive with the wakefulness of day.
I have watched you ever so silently
over coffee, easy laughter,
and the warmth of the noonday sun.
And in the solitude of cold mornings when,
your breathing and mine are one.

I have watched you unseen, concealed in myself,
and have seen even more
than a thousand mirrors could confer.

Like when you read something, soundlessly;
your lips moving in unison with your thoughts,
Your eyes barely leaving the pages they have touched,
except perhaps to gaze at me yet again;
sleeping, dreaming, in my little pretense.

Sometimes your energy is soft like twilight,
and often unbreakable, like lightning
on a storm-weathered night.
Your hands are earth-colored and strong,
yet they keep a supple beauty
as when you shape your dreams
into diamonds with fire.
In spite of their strength, as your hands bear weight,
Patiently, neatly still, they fit into mine —
soft and liquid as velvet, ever so light.

I have watched you, and in clandestine silence I thrive,
For to see you in any other way
than this would leave words floating,
and would have me search for them
in my frailty; lost and wanting.
And so I watch you ever so carefully, silently;
a space for each ephemeral time.
To partake of that coveted sweetness
in your laughter-dimpled eyes, until—

After much wandering, they rest, like two doves
Finally, piercingly, unto mine.

~~~
-01/04/06-

 

From a Papa’s Girl December 8, 2008

Filed under: Poetry — Aimee @ 8:17 am
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Dad

~

You closed your eyes one April
and left me balancing
on tightropes of fear,
solitude and blindness.

I fought the blindness, but
the fear and solitude I could not.

You closed your eyes one April
in a room of bare ashen walls.
My eyes blurred the moving sketches
of people garbed in white,
as they pulled out tubes and needles
from your tired, yellow-gray flesh.

I walked towards your bed only when
I could no longer bear the stillness
brought by the soft sounds
of retreating footsteps
and the pungent smell of disinfectants.

I walked towards you only when
there were mere spaces between us.
I swallowed my pain and silently called you a cheat.
You were a liar.

You never told me you were leaving.

~~~

published, Home Life Magazine, April 2005

 

The Saddest Lullaby September 15, 2007

Filed under: Poetry — Aimee @ 5:21 pm
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The Saddest Lullaby

~~~

What would it be like to die?

I stared at the bottled fetus
And spoke silently
To the shadows cowering
Behind dusty shelves
Of dry animal bones.

I peered closer and saw
The wrinkled mass of skin
That bound together
A lifeless mass of flesh.

It looked as if it had survived
A century, only to die without
Ever growing an inch.

What would it feel like to die
Without having been born
And to float aimlessly
In such a cramped space?

I could almost hear an answer
In a voice stifled in regret,
Whispering as in a lullaby

A low, far-away, sad song.

I moved closer and realized
The voice was my own.