The first poem of the year wasn't worth posting, so I threw you a bone with the Halloween-esque poem. What follows is the official second poem of the year.
If you write, maybe you will understand what I'm feeling. Sometimes I sit down to write and I feel like every word is utter crap, and then other times I sit down and the words flow from me quickly, so quickly that it almost feels like the poem is using me as an outlet. I imagine my poem floating around in space,undulating among airwaves, waiting for a writer to sit down with a little confidence and ink.
Sometimes I start with a line and what follows comes as a total surprise to me, like tonight. I had a first line and nothing else. Perhaps a Field of Dreams reference is appropriate here.
“Lover Seeks Kiss”
One third of the photograph is bursting:
pink and green azalea bush in full bloom,
dainty stamen extending shyly,
like a lover seeking a first kiss.
Cheeks blushing as fingers creep
over dewy skin, goose bumps
spreading, exploding over timid flesh
covering the total topography of skin.
one freckle to another, quickly expanding
like diffusion in a controlled lab,
like the suddenness of spring.
hands sneak around hips: