Tag: love poetry

Open Wound


I’m kind of prickly always have been,

How do I keep you safe

And love you at the same time?

After the open wound

Of new love scabs over

With the clots of commitment

We’ll be thicker skinned

And my spikes will be thinned.

Though I am committed

I’m still an open wound,

How about you?

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Stealing Flowers


I heard tales of you

From woefully unreliable sources

Who poured their propaganda

Like concrete,

Hoping to build a foundation

For themselves.

Lips on the inside

Teeth on the outside

You’d always bite

Before you’d kiss.

This is what I was told.

Now I listened to my friends

But kept a spark of doubt,

Upon meeting you

I was made to breath heavy

And fan it into flame.

Since then the fire

Has taken many forms,

Like traversing the town on foot

To see you for thirty minutes.

Like stealing the cities

Entire supply of yellow flowers

To brighten your grey workplace.

Like shade

Saving in summer

Yet deadly in winter,

Your smile careened

Through my heart.

Leaving mailboxes tipped

And street signs turned around

Now unsure if I’m driving

Too fast or too slow

But it’s towards you

So I push my foot down.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Blue Rose

vagabondprophet:

First date I brought you a blue rose

You said nobody had ever given you one before.

A blue rose?

No.

A flower.

I couldn’t believe it,

You, my pride and joy

My flower everblooming.

I’ll spend my days being your soil,

Pruning bits that

Hinder growth.

It’ll be different for our daughter.

I’ll see to it.

One day a boy will knock for her,

Baring a flower in his hands.

Our daughter will say,

“That’s it, just one?,

Thanks but no thanks

I’ll stick with my daddy,

He knows I’m worth much more.”

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Hot Pipes

I’m young now but won’t always be

One day this strong back will go slack

And sag under weight of time

Will no longer bear any burden

That comes its way.

These arms like branches in winter

Will wither and stop growing fruit

As my legs like roots stop toiling

For more ground to inhabit.

My voice will no longer rush

Like church organs

Burning urgency through hot pipes

With hope for all who may listen.

My mind may writhe

And scratch at doors

Its long held keys to

Having forgotten the purpose of each.

Though it may shrivel

And lose some of it’s shine

Though I may forget even your name

I will never forget you completely.

For this poorest of memories

Must still walk down halls you tiled.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Little Green Book

Love does not sit still

Love is always in motion

Love turns tables

Love will cut your bonds free.

It keeps me warm when

Frost kisses the grass

And keeps me cool when

The grass wilts in summer heat.

Love carves canyons

With its tender restless ease,

Love filled this green book

By pouring from this pen.

– Vagabond Prophet

Obstacles

They were like rooftop geese

Building homes, raising young

In all the wrong places

In spaces unnatural for their kind.

They were like the hammock

Just waiting for a body to drop

Before the knot betrays its weakness

And plunges to the hard ground.

They had no vacancy

In their hearts for eachother,

The affection atrocious

The quarrels ferocious.

They were diehard tryhards

Attempting something significant

Only down this path at all

For some misplaced expectation.

Sparrows wearing owl beaks

To make folks think them wise.

The crescent waned

And so did the wax

On the long night of

Strained and forced relations

The stale devotion

Began to attract flies.

It died loudly I still hear it in my sleep.

Somehow I still wake with a smile

The puzzle box given me

Not a picture to copy,

So I turn the pieces over

To make something new.

Together we became like seeds

Endlessly turning ourselves inside out

In our attempts to climb the sky.

Now we’ve evolved into compasses

Caring nothing for obstacles

Only convictions and destinations.

Years ago now that I used your tongue

To ask for your hand

We venture together

Into the kingdom broad and tall

That’s casts its borders like fishing nets.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt ‘stale devotion’

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Brushfire

Your mother said I wasn’t right

Not serious enough,

Now we laugh until we’re pink

Thinking of being with anyone else.

Resonating something deep inside me

I didn’t even know needed vibration.

I was kindling

You were a match

Together we’re a brushfire.

Burning and spreading until

Our love insisted on having

Skin of its own.

Now you’re a mother

And I’m a father

And together

We are the stewards

Of the miraculous.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

delightfulharmonypoetry:

vagabondprophet:

Hurricane

I don’t believe in true love

Or in soulmates

But I know what happened to me

And I believe in  addiction.

You did not screech or beseech

With kissable lips

And raised eyebrow

With clever fingers set your snare.

I was yours.

You hooked me

With the efficiency of a hurricane,

I became forever yours.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

How crafty, I seem. But I do not recall it quite that way. 

Around the corner you might find him, they said to me. 
Turn the right or left and there he will be 
Cautiously I inched around each turn that came about
For fear that a pair of eyes and lips would wipe me clear out

There was no corner when I saw you
Just the bones of trees reaching to sky
The brown and gold of burnt grass lost to summer
With clouds ashen blue bearing no lie

Honey gold, ice blue you smiled
They flocked to you, bees to flower
Children to sugar, and all the while…

Roots became of my feet, 
Whispers buzzed in my ears, 
The triple flap of a hummingbird’s wing where my heart used to be

All that time wasted, peeking around corners
But it was the trees that hid you, the clouds that gave you asylum
Attacked without warning, I was
An ambush

Run, said my mind, rational where the rest of me set to fire
Run, for there he is. 
There he is there is he is. 

Mister Right. 

I am glad I tore the roots of my feet from the earth, 
Spun on my heel and set to fleeing
For while you were Mister Right

I was yet Miss Not-Ready.

@vagabondprophet

I’ve wracked my mind

And combed the ashes

But this tale can not recall

For you fled fast and fled well.

You were gone before I saw you,

Naturally I tell the story differently,

The next several years afterwards

I can only theorize.

You were biding your time

And stocking your weapons

Braiding curiosity with courage

To fortify yourself.

You waged a cold war

With a hot body

And a warm tongue.

Studying my heartstrings from afar

Learning which ones to tug

To bring it all crashing down.

The first day I recall seeing you

I recall your pose, and your hat

Slouched nonchalant on the couch

Looking radiant and speaking thoughtfully.

You sharpened and blunted me

In equal measure,

Always useless for the task at hand

Except for finding yours.

Ten long years later and

Your presence is indelibly

Pressed into my heart.

You sunkissed beauty,

You steward of joy and kindness,

You exquisite queen of our little kingdom.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry