Next to Me- Emeli Sande

The Dream by Louise Bogan

O God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.

Coward complete, I lay and wept on the ground
When some strong creature appeared, and leapt for the rein.
Another woman, as I lay half in a swound
Leapt in the air, and clutched at the leather and chain.

Give him, she said, something of yours as a charm.
Throw him, she said, some poor thing you alone claim.
No, no, I cried, he hates me; he is out for harm,
And whether I yield or not, it is all the same.

But, like a lion in a legend, when I flung the glove
Pulled from my sweating, my cold right hand;
The terrible beast, that no one may understand,
Came to my side, and put down his head in love.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

We try to sit next to one another
hands kept to ourselves, my laptop warming
my pant legs. But as we play, you poke
and tickle knowing my weakness.
I have no power of objection
as your lips graze my neck, teeth
nipping. The laptop is quickly forgotten,
thrown aside like a 5-year-old
and a week old Christmas present.
I submit to your dominance.

But as we play, you say, We have tried this before.
Why should it matter? When you are near,
my blood boils and I know yours does too.
Our lips meet, your hands resting on my chest,
fireworks and sparks. Maybe we cannot see
each other as often as we'd like, but...

Isn't love worth it?

For denying my feelings is more painful
than trudging through a long distance relationship,
exchanging little visit, tiny trinkets, and Skype dates.
Hug me again, envelope me in your arms and keep me safe.

Let love be.

Ode to a Phone

You are my child.
I tuck you in at night, letting you charge.
I wrap you in your case so you can be safe.
I panic when you are lost in the jungle of my purse.
I cry when a drink spills and you break.

In return, you do everything for me.
You help me spend time with my friends.
You let me write my blog and Instagram my martini.
You allow me to chronicle my life via Twitter.
You show me funny gifs on Tumblr.

You store more information than I could in my brain.
I play games with you, competitively trying to win
but you do not play games back, you are there for me.
Even though sometimes my love for you does not show
I appreciate everything you do. 

Smokefire

It rises from the coals, settling in the nostrils
just a quick breathe inward releasing droplets
of water down a cheek. It musters
unwillingly, a fog clouding the judgment
leaving a stained trail behind. It chokes
the senses, pokes at the weak, a fire
meant for victory, but now more the stint
of past defeat. But it continues to raise
itself into the sky, its tail following close behind,
lifting the stench that once gave it its name.

Douglas Fly

(An elegy.)

He always hung them in the porch,
splatters of red, blue and gold,
tiny beaks bright orange or black,
wings spanning north to south, east to west.

He knew every call, every crow, every sparrow,
eagle, bluebird, swallow, as he tricks
us grandkids and my grandmother into thinking
one of them has entered the house.

He helped fix their nests, watched over them
and in death, they accept him as one.
Do you believe in reincarnation?
he asked me when the clock ticked its final hours.

I did not know how to respond, but somehow
I'd like to believe he is encased in their feathers,
has grown his own wings and flies overhead
to watch down on me.

Carhartt

(Intended to be a sonnet, but does not 100% follow rhyme scheme or syllable count.)

Riding in his Chevy Blazer, window wind
whipping my hair as I rest shotgun, hand
on his leg, music of cowboys blaring through
cranky speakers. We cruise, bumpy road not
mattering, red light, brakes squeak and he looks
at me with clear ocean eyes, wiping dusty
jeans off not to get my summer dress dirty.
Three months overdue, second date lusty
glances waiting for another startling
kiss. First seen on the 'Net, now more alive
than ever, warm flesh to touch, hair to smooth,
arms to be wrapped in, love to believe in.
I never expected to love him so,
but I've fallen hard for the country boy.