Archives for posts with tag: love

I’m not making any promises, but I’m going to attempt to keep up with NaPoWriMo this year. I’ll be writing a poem a day however, I refuse to post one everyday. I think that’s overload. So I’ll do what I can. In other news… today marks the day my biggest source of inspiration came into my life. It’s my anniversary! What better way to kick off National Poetry Month than to share a poem I wrote in honor of the man that keeps me wanting to write poetry.

I hope you make time to read and write some poetry this month, and don’t forget to thank whoever or whatever it is that inspires you to keep doing whatever it is that you do.

-Umm Qamar

The Letters

“…tell your supervisor you’re leaving early today

and I’m going to pay for the rest of your day …” -Tony! Toni! Tone!

A year ago today

Marks the day they became

“Impossible us”

She with legs sealed shut and heart wide open

He in High Pursuit

“Do you know what today is?”

Mother Father Friend said,

He’s all wrong for you

Nothing more than good

Conversation. Piercing like

First time penetration His creed

All wrong he’s coming on too strong

Plundering through barbed wire

fenses trailing Issey Miyake scent

Yellow kite tails catching.

“It’s our anniversary, anniversary…”

Something about a caged bird

The free just can’t appreciate

Scratches in the track our music

Don’t make sense we make

Vinyl record love

Fuck autotunes

He had a throwback style

Would throwback any man

That ever thought they could

She spoke of limitations like deal breakers

And then the letter came

Proving that roses could be born of concrete

And hearts built of brick

Love could be pieced together from leftovers

Can pervade through hard times.

Six years ago today

A moon was born

A year ago today

Trembling hands penned sureties

Two troubled paths eclipsed,

“Do you know what today is?”

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of. -Benjamin Franklin
TIME CAPSULE 2001, SIDE VIEW, show

Thank you Mr. Franklin, I couldn’t have said it better myself.  Since undertaking some new responsibilities in my life, (a.k.a. a new job, a.k.a now I can pay more bills) I find my myself yearning for more hours in the days and for more minutes in the hours.  I fully understand the complaints of those writers who try to balance practicing their craft with putting food on the table.  I guess I should try to look at it from a more creative positive viewpoint; now I have more fodder to give my poems life.  I digress…

The true reason for this post was to share a link to a poem of mine that has been published by the lovely ladies of The Blue Hour Magazine.  Please be sure to head over to their site and show all of the wonderful poets, writers, and artists some love!  I’ll be back to posting poems and random ramblings soon enough.  I just wanted to thank all my followers and even those of you who just happened to fly by and “like” a few of my posts.  I love you guys and wish you well.

-Umm Qamar

In the Purple Rain- A poem by Jasmine Javid

Photo courtesy of Sabina Panayotova via Flickr

Love making in negative spaces

Predilections licking surface wounds

Eyes fixed on ceiling store

Shopping its cracks for displaced pleasure

“you’re too deep, I can’t reach you”

The rapacious knocking ceases.

“I know”

And I wonder if you’ll cry for me

like you did all the Others

energy is released, reconfigured

tenure the red walls of this black baby doll

———————

too worn out to try

and cry so it just drips

heavenly intent amidst

a fiery background well

into the night

———————-

wail into the night

persist until something sticks

and something rips

oops! there goes

the newfound virginity

—————————

a single tear falls

and is held hostage

in the valley of Lip

I’m up thinking about you

being counted.

You’re awakened by the count,

counting

days and minutes

my back against the wall,

and I’m counting…

1) you’re here

2) so am I

3) we are agile thieves, stealing time.

When two persons become intimate with one another they lose their sense of proportion.- John P. Davis, Verisimilitude

MAN.  I’ve been super busy with this ModPo class (which I’ve mentioned in a previous post).  I’m kind of late on getting something up for this week.  Since I never announced an official posting schedule you can’t really hold me accountable.

Anyways I decided to cut myself some slack by sharing a found word poem with you all, instead of something exclusively authored by me.  I also have a little personal tidbit to share.  Are you ready?

I’m engaged! Yay!

Actually I’ve been engaged for quite some time now, but I’ve withheld all the mushy details because this is a poetry blog and not a tell-all-my-business-to-complete-strangers-blog.  So what does my engagement have to do with this poem?  Well… if you must know, my fiance and I share an intense love of poetry.  We write poems to each other.   This piece is actually taken from something he wrote for me.  Our poems are a little too hot for WordPress, but I watered this one down especially for you guys.

Enjoy!

Determinations pull me closer,

Drops dripping intentions.

Without light I couldn’t escape

Breathing ever so slightly.

In darkness I waited, surrounded by mocking shadows

I find myself stuck.  Endless possibilities,  just

because Roses

Days of and nights of moments knowing

moans and incoherent stuttering.

Secure in your fingers, eases my soul and gives

Intimacy towards kisses that are

Perfection.

oceanic distance

Photo Credit: Junior Libby via public domain pictures

Lying next to baby, I thought…

 

clouds do not have edges

no visible sharp lines, rigid

therefore unconfined.

 

You have no boundaries, no beginning

an end parallel to horizon.

Where do we start?

 

With the niceties, the quaint

the things that fill in,

us, entangle, weave and mesh, night after

Night.

 

And then I remembered.

 

Peanut-butter jelly sandwiches

I do not like jelly.

The combination of the two, repulsive

but I like you,

how can we mix?

 

Slice and commence– the soft tangible, often unneccessary

whispers on cold shoulders, middle

of the bed,

 

that oceanic distance

two shores that will never know the sands

of one another, friends enquire, I can’t remember.

How did we meet?

Art Journaling By Me!

This poem was influenced by the eloquent deviancebyciaraswan’s poem titled “Random Emotions.”  The theme behind my poem isn’t taken from her work, but from the song that she mentions in the poem, “Rose Royce’s “Love Don’t Live Here Anymore.” Please go and check out deviancebyciaraswan’s blog, she has some truly admirable work.

And Then You Start Writing Love Poems

because it is the only way to tell this man how you feel

it is the only way to welcome in the stranger, that’s come to stay at your heart

because before him, there was a vacancy

you thought only God could fill

you had real estate like S.E. D.C.

Pricey, yet essentially worthless

with a view of the river,

and even that stunk

If these silk walls could whisper

Of what thoughts would they gather to tell?

Surely they would cry, of stifled nights

Between legs held tight; locked in a loveless jail.

 

But with silence they’ve been charged

To keep the secrets of their forlorn mistress by day

And to keep the advances of strange men

At bay.

 

Although if granted the chance

I’m most certain they would

Petition for relief

From the drought they’ve patiently withstood.

 

These silk walls are

Ready to be knocked down.

Demolished by an intruder’s hand

Searching for dampness beneath the sand.

 I thought your poetry was just for me

Those songs you sang were my soul’s melody

I remember when you used to move me

Your pen touched my pad and soothed me

Our colors collided, we made art

When we made love

Somehow you had a sudden lack of creativity

Your vision became shortsighted

Your brush no longer stroked my canvass

You were loving a new enchantress

I was primed and prepped for defeat

Baby I thought our love was deep

And to think, I let you in

Again, and again, and again

No matter, I’m older now, and I’ve grown to understand

That any fool can scribble on paper

It takes a real man to feed you thoughts you can savor

Yes I’m full-grown now

And I’ve waited patiently

‘Till I was blessed with a renaissance man

whose poetry is ALL for me

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