Less than that. Maybe more than this.

Okay,
I just wanted to share a blog with you that I feel is greatly undervisited.

http://lessthanthat.pointlessbanter.net/

Some of these poems will take your breath away.

Mar shampla:

Born To Quickly Go (Villanelle)

Please, stay with me awhile beneath the oak,
and lay with soft breath your arms over mine.
We are days on earth, born to quickly go.

Our short hours are better spent lying so,
than worried away by bits, counting time.
Please, stay with me awhile beneath the oak.

Years go with wind; too soon we are too old,
to share the moments passing is no crime –
We are days on earth, born to quickly go.

So let kisses, one by one, be our oath
that a hunger we dare feed cannot die.
Please, stay with me awhile beneath the oak.

Lips cannot so gently leave a body cold…
Hands cannot cover mouths that rightly cry,
“We are days on earth, born to quickly go!”

As a day will wither, love cannot hold.
But, for the memory of one true night,
stay with me awhile beneath the oak.
We are days on earth, born to quickly go.

AND

Last Call for Sanj.

Months from now,
I’m sure I won’t remember
how easy your eye lashes
fall. So easy –
How I’d press your cheek,
stick them to my finger,
ask you to make a wish.
Sure, you never told,
but I’d ask every time.
I’m sure I won’t remember
any of that.
I’m sure I won’t remember
the way you snore when you sleep,
how you’d deny it every time I told you.
Months from now,
I won’t remember you at all.
Surely, there’s no way
I could remember your face. Your sometimes
beautiful, your happy, your angry,
your coy & lying easily, commonplace,
everyday face. Your sweet,
timeless face will wash over
with rust
and the graffiti I paint over you in my head.
Surely, months from now,
I’ll ask myself
deep in the idling night, far from this hurt,
far from all of what sums up to be
you and us and me. In this end
I’ll ask, months from now,
who is this ghost, this vapor,
swinging soft and hush
in every cradle of my imagination.

And from time to time, I guess,
even months from now,
I won’t remember not to forget you.

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2 thoughts on “Less than that. Maybe more than this.

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