Why
are you running away
when we were getting
along so well —
Why
do you not answer my calls?
Why
are you so aloof
when I want you
so much —
Why
are you looking at other girls?
Why
are you making my life
so miserable
…?
Poetry
My Addiction
My addiction is not
to the drug that makes me high
or the wine, blood red
that flows through my veins
My addiction is
the space between your knees
your bow-legged walk
in your jeans.
My addiction is not
to the high that is the taste
of ice cream or chocolate
or mountains of candy
My addiction is
the anticipation of your face
your voice on the phone
your knock on my door.
My addiction is not
the taste of caffeine
or the air that I breathe
or the roof over my head
My addiction is
your back
as you walked away
from me.
passion
my mood
in direct relation
to the colour on the page
you have the power
to make
me write in red
the shade of passion and blood
shed upon the sheets
of our bed
and on glad days
with blue on a yellow background
and pinks of blossoms
bursting
but at times you take
my reason and whitewash my mind
to stark black and nothingless
insanity
Genes
A man takes his fire from a woman’s breast and a woman takes hers from the life of her offspring.
But what of the coupling between man and woman
which makes the offspring come into being?
It is a drive so fierce, so powerful
that it can create
generations.
Heat
You’re on fire,
with your passion so red
so perfectly pink
and glowing
nerves standing
stretching your skin
your lips alight
with song
vibrating in your throat
belting from your lungs,
the heat of you
reaches my ears
and melts my insides.
Fall Back to You
Into a letter
to a past lover
I pour my misery
in hopes of forgetfulness
Ironic
that that is all I have left:
memory
Of our boundless energy
our youth, our bodies entwined
bathed in the effortless effort
unthinking to the music
the hard
hard rock to which
we danced
Do you recall
our kisses
and moans?
Do you dream of
our firsts,
our wild nights
our reverence of one another
our amazement at
what we’d discovered in
each other and
our knowledge that
it could never last?
Your voice will ever be with me.
For this I thank you and
for as long as this memory lives
so will you
in my heart.
fly
if i close my eyes
and hear the air
exclude the sounds
of life’s breathing
activity
the hum of machines
the blasted noisemakers
humans and insects
and just
hear the air
the noiseless atmosphere
and see the black
behind closed eyes
i can
fly
Yang
The mysteries of your inner workings
Your yang to my yin
Tease me
Bring me to know there is no
Knowing you, really
As much as I can guess what you think
How your gears turn
Within
Inside your feelings are opposite
Yet he same
Your strength to my tears
Your determination to my
vulnerability
Not to say I’m not strong, you are
just more powerful
But I like it that way
I’m not afraid
to say
That your prickliness
turns me on
So when you tell me you understand
The way I think
I know
That you don’t really know yin
from your yang
A Life Lived
She started with a salty goodbye. A sayonara of oceanic proportions, in which ships sank and seashells shattered.
And around she went in the arena of ago, an archipelago amass in aromatic ages.
Until at last she settled, safe within the enclosure of a promised land of epic proportions.
And there she landed a lover, who loved her lonely ass.
Years yonder, she yearns for her yesteryear land.
For her lover forgot, and found a flagrant floozy to fuck.
So she dreams, and connects her current conditions, completely crushed
By sorrowful sayonaras, and restless regrets.
Reverie
If the stars will dance
in the atmosphere
and the moon will run rings
’round the earth
If you are beside me
holding my hand
and the love that we share
launches mirth
Then the universe must be
as happy as we
Let us praise the glory
of the sun
In the days of our life
let us always be joined
and the night, with the stars
we’ll be one
Linda G. Hill 