If I Never

 

If I never had met you
would I still think love was clean,
like a pressed white handkerchief
and all the edges matched,
and it never tasted rancid
or felt like wet wool on the hottest day in July?
If I never had met you
would I think kisses were sweet, 
and that the music in your head could be shared?
If I never…
Paper dolls crimp so easily with nothing holding them up,
they’re not made for rain and clumsy fingers
but I cut myself out of pretty paper and dressed in 
shiny beads
because your crow eyes would love them,
and a nest alone in the sky would have been a fitting end 
to the fairytales I was writing.
If I never if I never…
Would your golden ways have held me in thrall if you were someones elses
someone?
Or would I have been shaken to see the fear calling itself love
written on the palm of her hand so she couldn’t forget…
Would I have held her shaking laugh
gently so it wouldn’t break
and told her
it was alright not to get the joke,
that pouring concrete over your feet and 
then making them dance
is not romantic,
and that no should not ever be followed by please…
If I never had met 
then left 
you
would I think that I was
strong?
Could I have found my way through the forest without the crumbs,
would I be living in the
here and now
or would I waste away at a distance
because from there you cannot see the mess.
You cannot hear the questions
or see how many pairs of dark glasses I could wear at one time.
If I never …
©jayetomas2015

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Cherry Wishes

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

There is a new year on the horizon and wishes clamoring to be born. Sometimes special ones hang like cherries on a tree,

the best and biggest,

 all round and glossy and winedark with juice, 

 seem to always 

be 

     just

          out

                 of

                    reach.

But these are wishes I would make for you anyway…

There will be bad times along with the good, 

and dark days with the bright.

I would wish for you the knowledge that all this passes and that light is the one thing the blackness flees,

and my cherry wish would be that you have a friend to remind you of that and to sit warmly next to you

and hold your hand when its dark.

The next wish is that you…

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Butterfly

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

I have a butterfly mind that flickers  through each day
here
then here
now there
and I am butterfly colored and my thoughts flutter and soar
and my wings vibrate with music from unseen places that I can only feel
with pounding beats outside my heart
and I stargaze and swear I can hear the stars swooshing like silken gowns across a ballroom floor
in the old black and white movies
I have a butterfly mind and a butterfly life 
never settling
never still
I have butterfly scents and smell like flowers and taste like the breeze
I throw myself into the sky and count the seconds it takes for the leaves to fall beneath me
and I would howl if I were alone
with the wonder and fright and the being fully in this moment feeling
 of it 
butterfly dance 
butterfly mind
beautiful butterfly
and yet
my only waking…

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Servante of Darkness by Anthony Servante. A preview look at the upcoming ‘Carnevale’, poetry by Jaye Tomas, now live on my blog.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

The Poetry of Jaye Tomas:
From the Upcoming ‘Carnevale‘ 
Jaye Tomas

Q&A:

Anthony: What’s on the horizon for Jaye Tomas?

Jaye: [Some new poetry. Here are some samples.] These will all be in the new book (hopefully) arriving in A Store Near You in Summer 2015.
Anthony: What’s the book called?

Jaye: The title is ‘Carnevale’ by Jaye Tomas and will be available in Amazon pretty much world wide :)

Anthony: Well, keep us informed on the latest.

Jaye: I will provide a link to it as soon as it is live. I also attached the artwork for the book, done by the exceedingly talented Sorell:   https://www.facebook.com/Sorell.Artist

Thank you once again Anthony. I very much appreciate the support and the chance to be seen.

Anthony: My pleasure and my readers’ pleasure as well, I’m sure. And now a preview look at the:

Poetry from CARNEVALE

by Jaye Tomas:

Columbina ~

Columbine
Columbina
dance with me through the streets of beaded windows
and wine washed cobbles.
Tie a string of sorrowful songs into your hair and let them flutter as the wind
washes us with spice and gold spinnings
catching on the pearls of your mask
and shining like dragonfly wings.
Columbine
Columbina
A night of magic and a day of wonder
with jugglers of butter yellow suns
and a waltz never played before
because at its merest tone
the weeping would overrun the rivers.
But still we dance
My Columbine…
my Columbine and I.
Little dove in the starlit alley with the incense wrapping you like a
burnt sugar cocoon.
This carnival,
this pageantry,
a stage for you to shine like the moon
like the secret chamber of an oyster shell.
These sinister diamonds
all in velvet spread out like a carpet
of finest Persian to tempt your touch
to tease your flashing feet,
and we flicker in the rosy dawn.
We unravel the clouds and weave them into teardrop portents to drop like
crystal balls in the gypsies tent.
I will play for you a mandolin of sighing zephyrs,
colorstained winds and skies that do not flicker,
do not lighten
but only deepen
infused in ancient and delicious sin.
Columbine
Columbina
My Columbina….

©jayetomas2015

A Day of Bones ~

A day of bones
a day of bones
and breaking sticks and stones…
A day of lying undetected
under hot sand and bleaching.
A day of being still
and being hungry and hunted
and sorry…
for in the sand you feel the secondhand warmth
but can’t ever see it golding across your face.
Can’t grasp the light that your eyes crave like a drug,
the trembling fall of brightness tumbling like motes through the sifted air,
is lost in the rasp
and in the motion denied…
Hold
and the bones stay still
in sin and in secret.
Hold,
and the rods and cones run their machinery overtime
to keep the color locked tight within,
and the bones lock
to keep the trembling at bay.
Burrowing in all soft and fat
you hold,
hold,
for the sand dollaring,
the hardening of your inner and outer self.
While the curtain calls for retribution not redemption in your rerunning dreams.
For in the simplest and most dispassionate of truths
there is no white charger,
the flying monkeys are out of control,
your knights are trembling with you in other, separate burrows,
and the day plods by….
Your cocoon gently strangling as you helplessly watch the sand settle in more tightly around you
and your bones accept this with resignation
and any brief and random thought of emerging
smothers itself in self preservation.
A day of bones,
a day of bones,
a day of breaking,
of sticks and stones.

©jayetomas2015

Tell Me ~

Tell me how to read the secrets etched like runes upon your bones
the story written in the lines of your face
the palimpsest of your hands.
Tell me the mysteries in your abyss,
those submerged in the deepest pools
dammed in your mind
locked behind doors of iron and molten nightmares.
Tell me why pretending is a drug to you
why it caresses and intoxicates you and you bury your name and need in it.
Why you scrawl over and over again
on walls
on doors
on scraps of paper blown through the streets,
“Forget me
forget my scars shining like a river in the deepening light…
Forget the touch of me
that taints and burns.
Turn your heart and soul away, walk with no faltering
or else I may grab and hold on and lose us both….”
Tell me how you were made,
what dark and shadowed madman breathed over you
waking you?
Did the composing hurt?
Were you brought forth in pain and
in the sweating, shuddering birthpangs of an otherworld changeling?
Tell me
teach me
I want to learn your source
the very Nile you sprung from.
Tell me how to read,
to decipher,
your secrets
your stories…
Tell me how find the key
to unlock your wrapped and rusted chains
and set you free.

©jayetomas2015

 

 

http://servanteofdarkness.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-poetry-of-jaye-tomas-from-upcoming.html

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Monster

I can feel you looking at me
is it me you seek?
Do you think that frail girl still lives somewhere under this
creation 
you battered me into being.
Building me on scar tissue and misdirection…
Does that bother you,
does it stir like a skittish rodent in the corner of your mind?
Finally I raise my eyes…..
The monster gazes back at you and you recognize each other.
Made me, did you?
I was nothing without you?
Times change
and even wet sand can be formed if the conditions are met
if the determination is mixed into a fuel of rage and 
pitiless drive.
I am a monster,
it’s true,
but then so were you.
I just did it better…….
©jayetomas2015

 

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History is made ~ Love Wins

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Your Bones Will Know Them

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

abstract-bones thomas c fedro

Smile smile
let it be your umbrella
be controlled be pleasing
and if it hurts, take this pill and you will feel better
you WILL feel better
even if your nerves are raw and scraped
and creeping all over the top of your skin
and the looks you will get in the grocery store are the only thing that keep you from
screaming
that and fear
knowing that, once begun, you may not be able to stop
take this pill
and this one and this one
and ignore the silly notion of piecing a broken spirit back together
its not
nice
to talk about really…
stop stop shred that scarf they have muffled your mouth with
let that patronizing stifling cloak slip from your shoulders
wrench the knots kick it aside
heed the words of an unmistakable voice
and listen to the grief inside your bones
give it credence
give…

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