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Intricate Sickness

You bathe me in your glow
the warmth of your voice
gentle and dripping

the halo of fire about
the crowns rising like red birds
in the dust smote skys
like red stars spiralling
in the rust of galaxies

I am drowned in my past
and you are a swimmer
my mermaid dreamer

how it all glimmers
in this seasons cold
wrapped with the darkness
erasing happiness

words given and I reach
losing more of the wall
your dance
flights about me
this longing I never knew
tears me free

how you cut me loose to drift
this last time
hoping for happiness
hoping to rest
in the depths of home

Editing stage: 


"dust smote skys" smote was the old term to crush I think
i could be wrong skys I love Skies although correct makes me
wince I dont know why I was thinking of love crashed together
like chalkbrushs of all things the dust swirling in the sun like
stars like galaxies and rust of course Oxidized by rain exposure
to the elements the brutal openess of the soul by loves heart
picked lock I know it sounds all crazy ah yes Im odd
anyway I like your thoughts to this

"In the dusk smoke skies" Ive added "k" to "T"
dusk is a favourite hour of mine the transition
the preparing for night

then I liked the softness your approach gave this
and in my head dropped the "in/s" and the "the/s"
to "a/s"

"a red star spirals..
on rust of galaxies desire..

A drowned past
beckoned by mermaid


so all that from your suggestion
why I love Poetry and Poets

thank you

(and Neopoet)

author comment

Steven, your poetry has always been sublime; however, in your more recent poems, it seems
you are in touch with something that you hadn't quite grasped before...

Your poetry speaks eloquently..... as if you've fleshed out what was missing.

I love it.


"I am drowned in my past
and you are a swimmer
my mermaid dreamer"

these words seep into my marrow

so beautiful, it aches

you said.
"i think my writing is crap of late..."

bollocks mr wolf ... bollocks!

you are writing like a dream
now granted, i haven't read much of your recent work yet,
and you may well have some stinkers (yeah, right)
but what i have read has a level of something i can't quite
put my finger on, but a level that hasn't been there in earlier

it's as if you are tapping into a part of self
that has been waiting to be heard ...
waiting to be able to express ...

i don't know, perhaps i'm woffling

i can't see anything here that could be
improved upon

it's a subliminal piece of writing
that stirs something in me
with its vulnerability

your writes are growing tighter,
more grounded somehow ...
grounded in what, i don't know,
but it's all working

as if you are stripping away peripherals,
and working with the raw

your p,
in admiration yet again

I try hard to write something
that sounds like poetry I read once and liked
I feel like Im ripping them out of me
from dreams and segments of life
beautiful and precious seconds
that drift into the poetry
become lines in my short stories
(another site)

and i write stuff that is stumbling
but every so often there is an okay

lots of stuff going on
all I know is that at least
there is something artistic
that im leaving

it doesnt balance
all this i live in and create

maybe just maybe
its better then a totality

author comment

I never do or did answer anyone directly
most of the poems are like talking too
myself half the time...

thank U for liking the poem and being
affected by it...."The marrow" guess
thats a good thing!


author comment
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