the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Category: poetry (page 7 of 64)

i’m still thinking in french…

Ma vision effacée. Tout à coup … voir;
Il était au-dessus de moi, déjà à l’intérieur.
Mon cœur a appris à refleurir. Ace de tasses.
Et le ciel est plus bleu, la lumière du soleil d’or.
Inspirez un moment, expirez toujours.
Nuits pleines d’étoiles après des années de l’obscurité –
Ne voyant pas la maladie jusqu’à ce que vous êtes mieux.
Il a enflammé mon âme, une étincelle de pinceau.
“Je suis juste derrière vous,” les premiers mots prononcés –
Tourner la tête à un regard aux chandelles.
Réparation amour comme il n’a jamais rompu.
Mon silence a commencé à parler d’une nouvelle façon.
Lorsque les feuilles engourdissement, puis vous revenez. Sentir…
Redéfinition de quelque chose qui est réel.

My vision cleared. To suddenly… look up;
He was above me, already inside.
My heart learned to bloom again. Ace of cups.
And the sky was more blue, golden sunlight.
Inhale one moment, exhale forever.
Nights full of stars after years of the dark –
Not seeing illness until you’re better.
He ignited my soul, a paintbrush spark.
“I’m right behind you,” the words first spoken –
Turning my head to a candlelit gaze.
Repairing love like it’s never broken.
My silence started speaking in new ways.
When numbness leaves, then you return. To feel…
Redefinition of something that’s real.

baby. i just…

To(o) Much

I turned. My
Head facing a…
Howl. Like
Slowed.
I
Stop(Ped). I rode
A window to(o)
Touch.
He put a…
(Pen in my hand)
(Octave in my…)
Breath. Do you
Know the rhythm.
I. Strike.
Everybody talks
About
How we wrote right
And left
Handed while
I walked. Pas(sed)t.
Baby…
… Slow. (Mmm)
Ocean.
I scribbled. A
Way. That prove:
To,
Much.

welcome (the world)

welcome (the world)

he introduced me
not knowing
there is no one i need
to know. and while
these women gossiped
and laughed and bantered
my lungs expanded
while my eyes closed.
they said: she’s an alcoholic.
she isn’t one
of us.
they spoke and spat
mouth running mischief.
when this happens –
protection shuts
me down. before i rise
i take time
to consider. to think
about the color of his e(yes)
and accent of his voice
and things he does
not say
while he was trying to know
me. i was
never. one of whatever.
i hope he pleases her
before me
because i am nothing
but one second
of time. that
does not exist.

éveil internationale

I’ve been writing in French lately…

éveil internationale

et ses paroles sont devenues
mon pinceau. mon inspiration.
mon amour.
soudain,
je pensais en français…
pinot noir. creme brule.
baisers à Manhattan en –
rêvant de l’Australie.
et mon monde
élargi. couleurs
que tout a commencé
quand j’ai regardé dans les yeux.

international awakening

and his words became
my paintbrush. my inspiration.
my love.
suddenly
i was thinking in french…
pinot noir. creme brule.
kissing in manhattan –
dreaming of australia.
and my world
expanded. colors
that all started
when i looked in his eyes.

hurricane draft

hurricane draft

when it started…
hearing his voice
(like sunlight on your face)
became… natural.
and his words
were… (wind in your hair)
Art.
to make you. pace.
blown away –
(mon trésor, mon amour)
cattails.
floating on the breeze.

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