xenovermin
Have they been hibernating?
Reversing rain and rolling sky revellry
For the sleepy sunny boltholes
To emerge, scritch scratch,
Vorpal claws and vicious whisker whispers,
Into my winter kitchen?
Old habits in hardwood habitats
Holes filled with noise
Make me start and strangle
Off weak womanly whimpers
I'm so ashamed of these mental jumps
To a chair of safety
I copy my crouching Captain Cat
And snap necks when I find them
Feeling instant vermin remorse
These furry foreign bodies,
Don't know this sovereign country
Of cruel and cute
Does not invite mystery, nor madness,
It's manifesto clearly outlining
Borders, breakwaters and bombfields,
Bulkheads betwixt inside and out.
So we fight, at night when daring
Raids are staged to the Captain's supplies,
In day, when interrogation lights
Gleaming in the laundry mists
Show tunnels and trails and
Disappearing tails.
Til every last long nosed lieutenant
Falls, snickersnap, into my traps.
The Poetry of Jessica West
And She (An Ode To My Sister)
And she's sweetness and light
In the sunshine of love
Porcelain heart in her golden boughs
Birds blending chorus to those who adore
Her whimsy, her grace in the dance
Foal limbs keeping pace in the dark
In the music she makes
Not through song but with ribbons and cake
And she's sad at the dusk
At the movement of stars crossed with fate
Soft dappled tears, sobs like an ocean swell
When her arms are empty
Gilt curtains fall in the half-
Wheat is written so close to her bones
Recited as prayer, as dreams
In each freckle on her cheek
And she is a blossom, a petal
Warm to the touch, cold to the face
Summer fruit to the timid in winter
Held high, a goddess fond of low places
She plays the drums for followers, calling,
A subconscious flame, a lithe lighthouse
Welcoming her chosen like a home
Heart beating strong in wild weather
And she's cutting them down like wheat
Her voice a dolled-
They only see coming when she laughs
Her technicolour eyes so blue they burn
Seek out the grey in life
And purge with all her heat
Her maniacal fingers, white daggers
Pushing buttons and bodies
And she is a harridan, a siren
Few years have been so kind as her
To fools and dreamers, to the flotsam
She assigns no sympathy with her stony brow
When the waters of life are churned,
Beware sailors, of her wrath!
Hearts sink as she uproots anchors
From the foundations of conversation
And she is mine, my one and only,
No clone nor obvious copy of the original
She calls the daylight and dawn her mantle
While I'm the sunset and valleys
But we clasp, a locket made of stronger stuff
Than gold or silver trinkets,
Hands held in simple gesture
Innate and loved, we stand together.
Author’s Bio
Jessica West once gave up poetry and coffee in the same day. Neither stuck, and for that she is grateful. She is only now letting other people read her work and make coffee for her.
Be tough. (It's one sugar, with milk.)
© 2009 eMuse-
The content of this site may exceed what some deem as suitable for those under 15 years of age. Warnings are placed on stories with content over T15 as set forth in our guidelines. Parents/Guardians are responsible for monitoring the viewing of their children. Terms Of Service/Copyright...
