“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” - Joan Didion
Written by Su Red
I never realized how sweet
December snowflakes can taste
i usually wait for January ones,
but this year amidst this
seemingly endless city
I gaze up at the blue black sky
and stick out my tongue
to taste the soft sweetness
People generally say
winter has a certain smell
with the burnt wood, pine
For me it's the scent of
my perfume being blown away by
freezing wind, settling
in a deserted room somewhere
longing to cling to a
hot sweaty body
and have the chilly feeling of
winter disappear beneath
my cold skin.
Warmth is easy to find,
lingering beneath a blanket
or in the eyes of many couples.
But heat is rare. the kind
where 2 bodies collide and
never realize the furnace broke.
The kind where lovers look
into each others eyes
not knowing exactly what they'll
see at that moment but not afraid
because it's real and honest
and incredibly hot.
Su Red
Snow Name
Does snow take names?
Yes. No sunshine tomorrow perhaps,
but happiness called yesterday
and will be here soon.
Touch , tickle,
blow, show
each other a merry time
Fall into a drunk dance
only grace knows.
Not only the fire roars.
Sweet Dreams, Bitter Reality
Current mood: forgotten
I had a dream about you last night,
neither of us was holding
a bottle of bourbon
and we listened to
Franz Ferdinand as you
told me how you
hated the sound of
me walking away that night
and i held you tight
you took my hand
and we inhaled the
sweet scent of cinnamon
burning beside us
and let our fears be,
just let them hum
their own tune,
but we wouldn't sing along
instead our lips met
to the words
"Let's fade together,
If we get away
You know we might just stay away..."
I still love this dream,
even over my morning coffee
as i know I'll see you
at The Burren with
your arm around someone new,
and i won't be able to tell
you about this dream,
nor will you hear my footsteps
that night as I turn
and walk away.
This Poem I Once Loved
Current mood: nostalgic
Somewhat of a found poem, inspired by selections from the June issue of 'Poetry'
This poem I once loved
was an older man
in dark jeans,
sketching in a cafe
The months before we spoke
i wrote and wrote
This poem I once loved
made breakfast and we
ate together listening to
Kate Bush songs and
discussing what the day
ahead held for both of us
The silverware did not
appear to be tarnished,
the windows did not
appear to need washing,
the sun was shining bright enough
This poem I once loved
eventually became a page
of crossed out words
stained with tears and spilled coffee
The months after this happened
I didn't write
I wrote nothing,
my journals seemed
a useless apendage
like my lips and breasts
This poem I once loved
is now a thin old man,
in the same dark jeans
grimacing at the half finished
sketch of a naked young woman
and the empty refrigerator.
Su Red '08
Vignette
Current mood: depressed
I have stories to tell you,
believe me i do
back when i was thirty
and we sipped Amaretto
in Temple Bar,
neither of us could have
imagined such stories
I have no photographs of you,
you're the only one I really
cared about that i have
no photographs of
i could have saved a few
from myspace, but
they wouldn't have meant
too much because it
wasn't me you were smiling for
But i don't need the photos.
I have plenty.
I remember the wine we
drank on your birthday
I can taste it any time i want,
just by closing my eyes,
feeling you hold my hand
Now so much time has passes,
goddammit i knew it would
even as I held you
in my arms and we said
we'd be friends
Riding away on the train
I even wrote out initials
on the foggy window
and drew a heart around them
I could have fallen harder for you
if we'd taken the chance,
and yes, you might have
fallen harder for little old me too.
Now i have stories to tell you
about getting off that train, and some others
and falling, and holding others
and even a similar raw passion
lacking some fears, but not all
I have stories to tell you about
how i chose the chords to your song
and why I've never played it.
Yes, I have stories to tell you
they're not novels, just vignettes
and you'd have to be the kind of man
to notice a faded chapbook at
the bottom of a shelf in a dusty
old bookstore. or to look for my name
in a far away city and come to
a strange coffehouse to hear me play
Then i could tell you stories, but
you'd have to be that kind of man
and the truth is,
you don't have to
be anything to me,
and that's the scariest part of the story.
This Song Rhymes With Romance
Current mood: disappointed
Your eyes are like shadows,
So many times staring deep into mine-
I held that gaze in the portion
Of my heart called "maybe"-
Now there are two dark shadows
In the distance that used to be
Beautiful chocolate curious eyes,
Wide with passion and desire.
Making love to you on Easter morning,
As my body quivered beneath your warm thighs
And a not too quiet moan escaped my lips,
I thought "Holy, Holy, there must be a God."
But as hearts warmed and bodies warmed,
A cool breeze blew in the window
Whispering unexpected secrets,
Leaving goosebumps of fear on our moist skin.
How I prayed and wished we would
Move closer together in that bed, wrap
Your comforter tightly around us,
And warm each other again,
Drifting off to sleep and dreaming
Of the truth that could comfort us
And bring your chocolate eyes
Into my gaze once again.
Instead I only feel your eyes
In the distance, so far behind me.
And mine I close tonight.
A tear falls upon my cheek
As I realize I could not
ease your fears.
I fall asleep alone,
But I can still hear your voice
that I haven't heard in so long,
Saying "Goodbye."
And so I cry.
At some point I awaken.
It is still dark outside.
My window is open and
A faint orange glow catches my eye.
I look out and find Mark Twain
And Friedrich Nietzsche side
By side in the oak tree,
Smoking a clove cigarette.
Nietzsche winks at me and
Tells me to join them.
Together the three of us sit, smoke
And talk about the right way,
The correct way, and the only way,
Coming to no conclusions,
but happy not to be alone.
Su Red '08
Rain or Shine, my dear Current mood: gloomy Category: Life
It's hard to sayin the light of day,or even now inthe midst of silent moonlightwhy a savage beast and agentle creature can wrestle for minutes,hours, even days sometimesbringing forth tears, but no blood,a struggle that endures all weatherso they're wet, sweaty and starvingbut no wiser as to who winsthe struggle for survival
Upon your lipsI felt a gentle longingcoupled with a raw lustThis sends a powerful surgeto my heart and it doesn'tquite know what to dowith this new energyI keep it inside,every so often a tinysurge escapes it's hiding placeand I get a jolt remindingme that passion is still aliveThis and the sound of your voice,comforting me, making me laugh,this is the key to befriending the beast,not harming it, but disciplining it,calming it, holding it untilboth can feel whatever truthis present in their moment
A Good Day
Today was a good day! Pieces of heaven fell upon earth The rest of the world slept through it but we, we were awakened by the tiny bolts of light outside the window next to the bed and so we experienced heaven together here on earth It was real and it was amazing!
In Tune
Love, That Is
...
A love that is so easy
may not be a true love
An angel rarely stops being angelic
but rarely commences being a lover
It could be dangerous
to be a poem all the time,
constantly alive
My cowardliness and
my challenges
burn beneath December snow,
turn blue as my
ever open eyes
under the Leo sun
I laugh, you cry
you laugh, I cry
Together we die
"Good-bye!"
"Hi."
Twenty years had passed
I found myself
a little grey,
an ounce of wisdom
tattooed on my chest
And the youth-
it's sealed in an empty
Malbec wine bottle
on your nightstand
in case you ever feel
like I lost something
Pas De Deux
...
I want to come inside you
to join in the present
and then to go
back as me
We is 2 me’s,
not 1
The tango dancers-
they begin apart
and dance,
not merging as one
They are always
their own bodies,
souls
I want to come inside you,
me, myself,
come inside you, Love
and dance
Dance!
You can say no,
as long as your heart
is saying no,
your heart,
it is not mine
I have my own,
my own Loving heart
It Loves me,
Me!
This beautiful woman,
this passionate soul
of her own
That is what Loves you,
this is her!
The woman who Loves you
and your own soul,
heart
I don’t want to take your heart
for my own,
I can not
I want our naked
beating hearts
to beat together
in that tango rhythm
Separate hearts
beating in rhythm
Listen to your heart’s beat,
hear mine please
If they beat in rhythm-
May I have this dance, Love?
I ask, not plead
If not,
my heart still beats
on it’s own,
unharmed,
and this is Love.
This is the Love
that is
present
in arms reach,
alive and ready to dance,
my Love
Of the Sea
Love Poem Written While Eating chocolate Cake at Starbucks
Blueberry Pancakes
untitled
Sitting here
with an empty chair
across from me
waiting for my muse
to come sit down,
but no one does
I played some chords
just last night
they sounded so sad,
but louder and clearer
than usual and I wished,
I wished you were there
to hear me play
It’s true I don’t
need you there,
I don’t need you here
but I miss you
everywhere you’re not
I’m beginning to love
the way these chords
come together here
beneath my fingertips
I’m becoming less afraid
to make these sounds,
to move my hands,
to hold this instrument
close to my heart
Longevity
The fine art of
meeting someone for
the very first time
and driving through the years
together in a Volkswagen beetle
A man takes the hand of a beautiful woman
and it feels exactly like
the very first time
he held it and said,
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”
At that time he was
a charcoal sketch of a man
that she only looked at
Now she is impressed
by the way her hands
touch
hold
rub
grab
this sketch
and never, not once
does it smudge
Velvet Memories
smooth as yesterday’s
bed linens
tossed in the hamper
at a cheap motel
The maid laughs
as she cries
In this rare moment
of bliss
she feels better off
than the couple
who formed the imprints
on these sheets...
At one time
she was one of
those holographs viewed
by curious eyes through
partially closed blinds
as a sex silhouette,
the pleasure illuminated by a 60-watt,
the pain less visible
as the VACANCY sign
flickers once,
twice,
and then...
Lit
...
I c a n t h o l d t h i s t o r c h f o r e v e r -
I t s s o h e a v y ,
t h e b r i g h t n e s s i s s t a r t i n g t o b l i n d m e .
I h a v e a n i n e t y n i n e c e n t v o t i v e ,
v a n i l l a s c e n t e d ,
D i m m e r o f c o u r s e ,
B u t i t s s t i l l l i t !
R e a c h f o r y o u r g l a s s e s
o n t h e n i g h t s t a n d -
C a n y o u s e e i t n o w ?
I f n o t , g i v e m e y o u r f i n g e r -
t h e o n e w i t h t h e g o l d b a n d a r o u n d i t .
H a l f a s e c o n d o v e r t h e f l a m e ,
y o u y e l p i n p a i n .
I h a t e t o s e e y o u c r y ,
b u t I v e b e e n t r y i n g t o t e l l y o u -
I t s s t i l l l i t !
Hungry
...
U n d e r n e a t h t h e i r s k i n ,
t h e y a r e s a v a g e b e a s t s ,
j u s t l i k e u s -
H u n g r y
S o y o u n g , y e t t h e y
w o n t w a i t m u c h l o n g e r -
C a n t
N a t u r e t a k e s i t s c o u r s e
f u l l s p e e d a h e a d
w i t h a r e v v e d u p e n g i n e
W h e n i t h a p p e n s ,
t h e b l o s s o m i n g ,
t h i n g s g e t p l u m p ,
j u i c y -
a n y o n e w o u l d d r o o l
W e r e w e a k ,
w e s u r r e n d e r t o t e m p t a t i o n -
A n d t h a t s w h y
y o u v e w o n t h e
B e s t G a r d e n e r : F r e s h P r o d u c e a w a r d
t h r e e y e a r s i n a r o w .
Birthday Poem, Anniversary Poem
The sun is shining in today
just like it did one year ago
At any moment I could
look up to see it illuminating
what last year was a silhouette,
and today is a color portrait
of a man I once loved
At this moment I wonder
what it would be like
if time did a backwards somersault
and you came through these doors,
sketchpad in hand,
hair a bit longer and undone,
days before the nights at Toad
and all those open mics
Things can never be the same
They could be better
But they won’t be
This much I know right now
You and I know many things
now that were unknown
to us a year ago
the inspiration for each others words
and how to put it to music,
ultimately how to love
even when it feels like hell
I don’t know what you feel today
as I tell you I’ve met someone
someone who knows I have
certain things to share,
things you chose not to share
Someone who smiles at
the things that make me me
and makes me smile and see
myself as someone who might
not have to be alone
Maybe someday you’ll
be able to tell me something
you got out of our meeting
that no one else could give you
If you think of something,
please do tell me, tell me
no matter how trivial it seems
because we all have to die someday
so let’s at least do it with no regrets
Despite the pain, I do not regret
loving you
Goodbye.
Pick-Guard Poem
The music in the night
comes through your soul,
into your eyes.
Sometimes dark,
sometimes bright,
always beautiful.
And I heard it
on that night,
through the thunder,
over the rain,
over the pain.
I was beautiful,
not as blue,
I became red.
Lime Peels
sorry again about the lack of spacing, I've tried unsuccessfully to fix it. I do like at least having a back-up copy of my poems on here, which is why I'm leaving them on un-spaced.
H e w o r e
a b l u e p l a i d s h i r t ,
t h e t o p t h r e e b u t t o n s u n d o n e .
B o w l i n g b a g b r i e f c a s e i n h a n d
c o n t a i n i n g s e v e r a l h a n d w r i t t e n p a g e s
f r o m h i s n o v e l i n p r o g r e s s ,
a n d o b s e r v a t i o n s o n a n y t h i n g f r o m
t h e s t o c k m a r k e t ,
t o w h a t c o l o r p a n t i e s
h e t h o u g h t t h e w o m a n s i t t i n g n e x t t o h i m
o n t h e s u b w a y
m i g h t b e w e a r i n g .
A n d o f c o u r s e
a l s o i n t h e b a g
w a s a l i m e , b e c a u s e
a s h e d r e p l y
w h e n a s k e d
l e m o n s a r e e a s y
t o c o m e b y ,
b u t t h e l i m e s ,
w e l l t h a t c a n b e t o u g h e r .
I w a t c h e d h i m p e e l
t h a t l i m e s l o w l y ,
c a r e f u l l y , a s i f i t w e r e
t h e l a s t o n e o n e a r t h ,
p u s h i t d o w n i n h i s d r i n k
a n d h o l d i t t h e r e f o r 5 s e c o n d s
b e f o r e t a k i n g a s i p .
T h e n h e s m i l e d
a w i d e , s a t i s f i e d s m i l e .
O u r c o n v e r s a t i o n
w a s n t p r o f o u n d .
W e d i d n t t o u c h u p o n
t h e r a i n f o r e s t o r e c o n o m i c s ,
b u t w e d i s c o v e r e d
t h a t w e s h a r e d t h e s a m e
f a v o r i t e f i l m - A n n i e H a l l
a n d w e b o t h l o v e d
h a l f c h o c o l a t e / h a l f v a n i l l a
i c e c r e a m c o n e s .
T h e n w h e n t h e b a r t e n d e r
y e l l e d l a s t c a l l ! a n d
i t w a s t i m e t o g o
o u r s e p a r a t e w a y s ,
h e j o t t e d h i s n u m b e r
o n a o n e d o l l a r b i l l
t h a t I p u t i n m y w a l l e t .
O r a t l e a s t I t h o u g h t I
p u t i t i n m y w a l l e t ,
b u t i t m u s t h a v e g o t t e n
m i x e d i n w i t h t h e t i p
b e c a u s e a t h o m e
l a t e r t h a t n i g h t ,
I l o o k e d a t e v e r y
b i l l i n m y w a l l e t t w i c e ,
b u t i t w a s g o n e .
I n e v e r m e n t i o n e d
h i m o r t h a t n i g h t
t o a n y o n e ,
b u t f o r t w o y e a r s
I t h o u g h t a b o u t h i m ,
a l w a y s s m i l i n g ,
t h i n k i n g w e w e r e
o n l y m e a n t t o h a v e
t h a t o n e n i g h t t o g e t h e r
i n a s m a l l p u b
o f f t h e h i g h w a y .
T h e n t h a t o n e d a y c a m e
w h e n I d e c i d e d t o r e n t
A n n i e H a l l f o r t h e
h u n d r e d t h t i m e .
A s I a p p r o a c h e d
t h e s t o r e e n t r a n c e
m y e y e s s t o p p e d
o n t h e t r a s h p a i l
a n d t h e l i m e p e e l s
l a y i n g i n i t .
M y e y e s l o o k e d u p
t o m e e t a n e q u a l l y
h a p p y a n d s u r p r i s e d
p a i r o f e y e s .
Tempest
These words come to me inthe dead of night,
I awaken and write to calm myself.
There was a time
I thought of you
and smiled.
That time was
ten seconds ago
after we argued.
If you look close enough
into the storm,
find its eye,
you’ll see it’s
a transparency.
It won’t stare you down.
Stay focused and
you’ll see azure skies
and a happy couple
eating tiramisu at Paradiso.
Or just walk away,
destination unknown.
Don’t succumb to the storm.
You told me
your favorite color is blue.
Have your looked into
my eyes lately?
Do they appear more
navy than azure?
Even so,
keep looking and please,
think of me as
the storm that turned
the haze in your eyes
into a sultry lovers’ summer night.
untitled
Perhaps I have felt
no greater joy
than I did last night
when I became naked by your hands
I was not prepared for this feeling
and while I wish
I’d had the words in that moment
to tell you how you
made me feel
I know you felt
the Love in my limbs
entangled with yours
The gigantic flakes
of snow that fall
on this New England April morning
don’t make me cold
even as my hair and
clothes become damp
I am still in your arms
just as last night when
I lie still in your arms
sound asleep and
your lips brushed
upon that spot on the
back of my neck
keeping me warm, comforted
and finally bringing
my sweetest dreams to life
[In]Appropriate Amnesia
The road less traveled
is covered with
a thousand footprints,
some mine, some yours
The journey is different
each time yet
we find ourselves
overwhelmed
by the feeling of being
consumed by the ordinary,
with its black teeth
and sour tasting tongue,
never fully knowing
the things we dare
bring to life
in our lyrics
We’ve seen the sky
with the stars slightly
out of alignment,
an odd pictoral madness,
sublimly satisfying
Our souls felt bliss,
our eyes seeking
pleasure never pain
The most beautiful
destination is that point
we may never venture to
Every raw inch
of our hearts
begs us to live
in the moment
this one, right now
Because we have not
forgotten how to forget
the stars in the sky
will never look
this way again
untitled
she cups her breasts
in her pale hands
the row of red roses
close behind her
makes it hard to deny
the romance in this sexual situation
He is forced to remember
feelings, intimacy,
the quivers and the caresses
before the climax
This human being,
she wobbles, then falls
from her pedestal
simply because she can
Comparing
nothing quite compares
to the curve of your hands
when cupped around something red
like an apple, a rose, or my heart.
nothing quite compares
to the scent of your skin
clean with Dial soap and water
the stresses of the day washed away
ready to drift away to dreams
in my arms
The Dark Hour
"NO doubt those who never hear the song of the Nightingale are denied a special privilege."
And so we have heard this song, with the owls tenor and seen the butterflies dance the way they only do during this rare hour, naked and uninhibited, knowing their beauty so true. These are the kind of things meant for two pairs of eyes. Although it seemed so far away, it was right here, next to us, yet I must realize I may not see it again, nor will you in quite the same way. Yet, let us remember that when they danced, the butterflies encircled us, a sign of something lasting, a sign that we could find a a part of such beauty to hold onto. All of this beauty, lit up so brightly in the dark hour is still not as beautiful as his eyes at sunrise.
Her Legs
Are smooth,
sweet as white chocolate
when you kiss that soft
spot between her thighs
Her curves were made for
strong hands to caress
Stroke her feet
with your fingertips
then let them find their way
from her delicate ankles
up the length of her legs,
slowly, slowly
gentle...gentle
Feel how each curve
responds to your touch,
blending into the palm
of your hand
Rest your head on her knee
as she parts her legs
Inhale her sweet scent,
that scent that is unique to her
Feel her fingers run through your hair
and enjoy this fine art of being there
The Mender
You once inspired me
to write a love poem
and uncork a bottle
of red wine
with tango dancers
on the label.
There are many shades of red
burgundy, scarlet, flaming, crimson
but none as beautiful
as the color that stained our lips
that night we made love.
Red violet lips found
every crevice of
each others body.
There was a drunken
pleasure in our sex
but our souls remained sober,
alive with a passion
incredibly aware of reality
and the thin thread
tying together the years
between us.
It broke, I tied it.
It broke, I tied it a bit tighter.
If it breaks again
my weakened fingers will
need your help
to strengthen it
and once you do,
if you do
you'll see yet another
shade of red.
Over
Over the rumble
of the midnight train outside,
carrying other half souls
back to where they came from
Your dark rugged body
over my Raggedy Ann doll form
on the red wood desk in your study
Stacks of hardcover books
towering over us,
with the endings foretold
The owl in the tree outside your window
trying so hard to share his wisdom
over the claps of thunder
Over each breath, I think
maybe you'll make me a
part of your everyday
Like the soft-hearted banker who's
won over by the kitten who whimpers
in the pet shop window
But I have to rip these thoughts
from my storybook mind,
another crumpled page
tossed over my shoulder
Tick tock, tick tock
goes your old grandfather clock
over and over as our bodies rock, rock
When this night is over
I'll board the train
toe-tag ticket in hand.
untitled
I like to watch the passerby's
in the sunlight,
it makes them appear almost translucent
Some of them are you
You were so many souls
when I knew you
The masculinity of the straight man,
The gentleness of the gay man,
The beauty of the model,
The intelligence of the gadget-geek,
The pallor of a frightened boy,
The sophistication of a well-spoken professor,
Someone I long to meet, but never do,
Someone I run into every day,
Someone I love and make love to,
Someone I love and just hug tightly,
Someone I love,
Someone I love
Beautiful, I Know
The sun just rose
and its the deepest orange
last night I thought that
falling asleep under a
navy sky was as
happy as I could get
somewhere theres joy
buried beneath the sand
for one woman and one man
who build their castle
and then fall naked
in that sand
Sacred, hollow sex
Room to grow
with each other
Here and There
love having someone here for me
and there
everywhere
Not always around
but still here
In the green mountains
where the Gods are envious
of our holy state
To kiss me at
just the right time
when I thought my lips
would never taste you again
or to remind me that
once in a while
time might actually make us calm
and let us take a break
on Revere beach at 3am
waves breaking the pattern
of passionless nights
A meadow in the Berkshires
with butterflies encircling us
Ive been warned that once lovers
cant be always friends
there for each other
no matter what
Its funny how love
isnt always here
but shes peering out from backstage
waiting for her 15 minutes
eager to see how long
the applause could last
Magenta So Sacred
didn’t have to
wake you,
we never slept.
I tell myself
both of us
were scared
to wake and
find the other
one gone.
I tell myself
not to be
scared of what
I write here,
you've already seen
my naked soul.
There were moments
my eyes became
magenta floating on blue
because only my
heart could see you.
The sun rises
every morning
because it belongs here,
and you,
if you belong here
you can leave
and soon
be here with me again
to watch the sunrise
in a magenta sky.
Today I woke up
to find the pirates
had come
to steal the pieces
of my broken heart,
magenta ones are so rare.
Those little villians
left empty-handed,
overwhelmed by the
strong scent of
cigarettes, sage,
the sweat of
so close to sex,
fatigued by
the incredible strength
my soul had to search for
to let go of you.
Failure's Falling
...
Failure to communicate
more than pie sliced truths
that my tongue
never grew tired of
Failure to know
the thing to do
was to pretend
I didn’t like you so much,
but then again
you studied theatre
and could have seen
through the acting
Failure to see
the clouds in your eyes
never made room for the sun
Failure to be
a good christian girl,
and keep you
out of my cunt
Failure to just let you go
without one last
night together
Failure to take “No”
for an answer,
but you never failed
to say “Yes”
Failure to know
the difference
between right and wrong
when I’m in your arms,
safe as a suit of armor
Failure to have stayed
awake in physics class
long enough to know
how to defy gravity
when I
feel
myself
falling,
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
edit.
Sex created with magnetic poetry!
Chiseled statues
Stroke, mount
This old art
is always in style
Curious Cherubs
What do you see? Fireworks...shooting stars...or angels maybe?
They stayed until we were naked,
him and me
Even after that they
would peek from time to time
with flushed cheeks
and dropped jaws
I didn’t mind them watching
They never tried to stop us
This was heaven-
I know that sounds cliche
but I can't come up with
a more poetic phrase because
heaven
is pure poetry
Simply stated
I could have stayed there forever,
but it was beyond my control,
the energy that would overcome me
I closed my eyes,
clenched his wet skin,
found strength in my lungs
to raise my voice higher
than a choir of
1 million of these
blushing, blooming babies
When I opened my eyes
they were gone