words, spoken

flowers daffodils thedamedottumblrdotcom

funny, this expectation
this surprise.

why on earth
what made you think
you were the first one?

that you to me
are the first speaker
and i the first listener
in this little-large world of ours?

there have been others, you know
we each have lived our own lives
before this sudden together

there are histories to consider
moments watching
hours witnessing another
fudge and shift
and squirm in their seat
piling up half-truths, barefacedly
until they amounted to lies.

so, why this surprise?
why this annoyance, frustration
this sudden sulking at my silence
my lack of faith
in the words spoken
in these first creation days
of you and me and us?

why the accusation of reflex scrutiny
born of sentences heard
turned over once, twice
and, too often, found wanting?

i ask only for patience
while i practice mine
until you calm down
and find your way to words
that make sense
speaking of the you
you are
when you’ve brushed your teeth
and are bound for bed.

i ask only for ‘this was this
and that was that’
no maybe, could be, might have been, possibly
no ‘i didn’t know how to tell you
i didn’t know what to say’
speak, yes
explain, articulate
but truthfully
this is no virtual space
no hip little place
no bar, no party
no office, café

this is me
with you
in a first together
and what else is needed
than those words that speak of you
as you
living, being?

they are the ones worthy
to be listened to
answered
spoken.
© 2015 threegoodwords

inside/out

rain in city jackiekothbauer mediababedotse

inside
toffee squared floors
denote rays of the sun, crossing
plants on the sills, watered
blooming bright to those
without, within

fingertips pressing cluttered keys
E and N already fading
triple m’s: memos, messages, mailing-lists
quick notes, live feeds
movie clips

in all the alphabets
known to woman, man
written, read
and used again

outside
cars rush far, park and run
jets and liners rolling
arrivals, departures
boarding, patrolling
vapor trails on asphalt

wind rising
sun-dimmed clouds
swelling with collected water
no more fears of acid rain
there is far more to worry about
these days
the news? don’t start
dante’s inferno’s nothing to that

click, swipe, push it away
the poor souls, so horrible
what are we having for dinner tonight?
what a long, exhausting day

inside/out
a moment, secluded
inhale, exhale
heartbeats tripping
excitement, peace
a stillness humming
beyond the din of the streets

sequins, cashmere
sheer wool, silk
plastic cards denote ownership
warmth, rest
eat, drink
ordered, structured
breathing

so many bodies moving
so many minds thinking
so many hearts, beating

all with one hope
that one true thing:
prosperity

 

© 2015 threegoodwords

privacy

books loretablogdotblogspot parasol lucia and mapp on flickr

such a thing

lean back in the light
hold tight
echoes known
growing

flickers of sight
flashing sharp
specks of touch
glowing

hints wafting to quizzical noses
a taste on the tip of a tongue
showing everything all at once
like music
the sound of words
sun-sudden, hot, warming

*

high, low
a timbre falling
in sunlight singing
raindrops swell, peak, explode

together, they say
together you must
but in the loud quiet: a country

soft borders shown
drawn black against light
held tight, invisible
knowing

it’s all your own
.

 

© 2015 threegoodwords

three

diary french blackswandive.tumblr

flicker
fire
flame

sky
swoon
sea

ice
cold
snow

wine
warm
we

hot
here
heaven

you
yes
yea

no
less
us

two
one
three.

© 2015 threegoodwords

 

clarity

once upon a time

where do you draw the line?

now that your reading’s done
and you’re aware of lives
lived by codes outside and beyond
everything you know

the accepted nastiness lingering
behind the famed glory
the casual cruelty accepted
behind the ingenious order
praised since time untold

and yet, there is such a thing as reception

that old question
how much is too much
and what of honesty?
what of that which happened
often, far too often
and must be thought of
retold

clearly, without softening
without any lenses blurred
sharp contours of thought
and feeling

of all those grey areas in between
painful, upsetting
without clear lines from A to B

but that’s what it’s really about
or not?

exploring the edges
diving down into darker depths
drawing out the essence of storytelling
finding new ways to reach
what we all strive for

clarity.

© 2015 threegoodwords

Anna Fonte's Paper Planes

Words, images & collages tossed from a window.

Classic Jenisms

Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living

von reuth

small press. great publishing.

a thousand and one books

but don't take my word for it

Kristiane Writes

Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.

The 100 Greatest Books Challenge

A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other