Spilt
-
The trees seemed to breathe more at night.
There was a freshness in the air
like the world was being born again.
Steam billowed from the machine
and danced up
mixing with my breath.
I rode on into the black,
leaves scurrying from the tires,
startled by this strange one-eyed beast.
I always wanted to remember these moments,
alone on the road
the smell of wood-burning somewhere,
and wet cut grass covered with tomorrow’s dew.
Fast I’d ride,
deep into the ghostly night,
wind in my face,
eyes screaming tears,
blurring the sky into diamonds,
and my engine,
in its symphony,
became my silence,
a knife’s edge to the numb world
my blissful blurry road.
xx Atticus
@atticuspoetry
www.atticuspoetry.com
-
The boy ran
quick as rain
through grassy fields awake in dew
in moon dipped steps
a summers night
through fireflies
and sparkling stars
a glass jar in hand
little cloud breathes
up to the open sky
and there,
so there at once,
alone in that summer field, she flew
a fairy shone
bright as day
and the stars once bright, dimmed back in crimson
jealous of the way she shone
she, the brightest bright he’d ever seen
so bright she burned, for she loved him too
and he took her gently in his hands
and placed her in the jar
his love
Safe now within his coat —
and back to the town he ran
a thousand laughs caught in his throat
everything he loved so finally his---
and with all the people’s eyes around
he brought the jar out from his robes
and held it high above
his shining prize
His love
--but alas
she was dim
and though she tried
she could not shine so brightly
and his heart fell
and the people turned away—
“But I love her, he said
more than anything I could ever love
why can’t she shine for us?”
and the old man in the corner stood
and walked up close
to whisper something
in his ear
and the boy
looked at the fairy
dimming in the glass
and nodded at the old man’s words
and with the tears in his eyes,
sparkling as diamonds
he ran
faster than he’d even run
through the moonlight steps
through the darkened grass
through the fireflies
and the jealous stars
and there, so there at once,
in the summer field alone
he opened up the glass
and held it to the sky
And slowly and gently his fairy flickered out
And as she flew she burned again
even brighter than before---
and as he watched
and loved her so
the old man’s words
echoed on his lips--
“love her
he said
but leave her wild”.xx Atticus
@atticuspoetry -
Somewhere
sitting on a cloud
deep in the sky
there is a secret list
written by an angel
that holds
all the wonderful moments
your life
has yet to come.
xx Atticus
@atticuspoetry
www.atticuspoetry.com
-
I have noticed
that all wine
regardless of the cost or vintage
tastes the same when sipped
directly out of the bottle
running naked to the beach
under a full
and summer moon.
xx Atticus@atticuspoetry
www.atticuspoetry.com
-
She wanted to be rich
and she looked good on a yacht
but I wanted a girl
that looked good by a campfire
with freckles like sparks
to stain
the ashy sky.
xx Atticus
@atticuspoetry
www.atticuspoetry.com
-
There is an island I know
I shouldn’t even mention—
it’s a fairy tale, you see
where no one wears shoes
and no one needs to—
the houses are hobbit-like
with grass on the roofs
and the food is fresh from a nearby farm
every morning the tea sits steeping
on long wooden counters
with toast and jams from local berries—
the crickets always crick here
and the birds call, the kind
that make you stop and say,
“Now that is a beautiful song”—
the sun is hot
without a cloud in the sky
and the beach runs out for a mile
in silky white sand
so that when the tide flows back in the afternoon
it heats up, warm as a bath,
when it rains
you build puzzles, and paint, and read
and light fires that crackle
and smell like cedar saunas
and each night, rain or shine,
you drink wine
and listen to records
while you play games—
and sometimes
you’ll lay in long grass
and chase the stars around the sky
heads close together with the ones you love—
each day is the same
you do what brings you peace—
and the wildest part of it all
is the island is real
my toes are in its sand.
Other Poems Read Today:
"If" by Rudyard Kipling"A Dream Within A Dream" by Edgar Allan Poexx Atticus
@atticuspoetry
www.atticuspoetry.com
