Categotry Archives: Poems

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Eclipse

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

Untitled“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
-Frederick Douglass

Eclipse

His bruised eye
like the moon gone dark
on a night when nothing
sees the truth except the
heart inside of him, like a
cobwebbed corner of secrets.

During an eclipse, the light
slowly returns. But not for him,
nor his eye that will yellow like
the sun & fade back into an
apparently normal day.

When I saw him near the
railroad track, so small & fragile,
standing in the grass, his lower
lip hanging down like a cloud
somewhere near oblivious adults,
I drew in a breath of shock,
touched his cheek & asked what
happened.

He looked up at me with big round
eyes that cried out: The moonlight
is never returning.

-Heather Lenz

October 2015

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABS INC.

 

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Farewell Summer

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

nikolapeskova / Pixabay

“The trees shook with wind and suddenly he was looking out of Quartermain’s face, and he knew how it felt to be inside a haunted house, alone.” – Ray Bradbury’s ‘Farewell Summer’

Farewell Summer

You press flowers against
Your heart. Empty chambers
long to be filled with

bright constellations,
deep conversations.

The last lonely nights
of summer. Time beats fast,
even when you are still.

& Plath keeps killing herself
in volumes on your bookshelf or
in your hands.

Crows shuffle & caw
with morning coffee as
you forget to get to know
your Self again.

Your child marvels
at future possibility.
You fear he is outgrowing you,
but love spoken calms.

You tether your soul to his,
knot the pain of laboring him
into an angry world.

Like the Bradbury novel
you read, autumn can be heard
stirring all around the
Dandelions.

You can almost see out
from your father’s aging eyes.
Can feel him sighing
in isolated dusk.

-Heather Lenz
2014

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABORATORIES INC.

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Awakening

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

Unsplash / Pixabay

Awakening

You said something about flowers.
Apparently a man stood in your way.

There was a desk with no paper or pen.
You wore a lavender sweater & prayed
for light.

At night, terror pulled you
from sleep. A shadow standing over you.
A rosary swung from a bird’s beak.

You crawled out your window, hoping
to catch dust from the last falling star.
You breathed in the scent of Moonflower
from your vision.

Everything became holy & scattered.

Your hands trembled, petals crushed
in your palms.

At dawn, you found yourself
sitting in a Redwood forest,
Imprints of faerie wings
on your arms.

Eyes becoming one
with a nearby stream…

~Heather Lenz

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABORATORIES INC.

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Seven Stanzas to Christ

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,

Cryptochild

I wove these smoky dreams for you to weep on
Though at the start I had no such intent,
To be so dark in thought and decision,
To sear the sacred meaning of the Lent

Devils marred the roads with cults and money
Judas friends cemented pain and hate,
Lovers wandered off to other cities
And fists of wilting daisies sealed my fate

Still there is a fragile candle burning
A window of crimson glass stained with truth,
Of precious words that long ago I clung to
When kneeling at the altar and the booth

Sometimes I see a Gabriel or Mary
The blood dripping from her golden hand,
Then scarred arms remember something hidden
At the river in the grass and on the sand

The holy train has carried you uphill now
To where the water pours out over stone,
I do not understand how you could die
For each of those who left you all alone

Now the trestles rust and timbers burn
The valley mountain trembles deep within,
All the drunkards play the lonely jukebox
Like the trend of causing death is setting in

Far from there I weave my smoky dreams
And though you weep I had no such intent,
To become a pillar of salt or Doubting Thomas
To be so dark, so bruised by malcontent.

~Heather Lenz

(this poem first appeared in Poetry Victims)

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reinen Wein einschenken (in wine there is truth)

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , ,

Happy New Year!

It is because the hem of her skirt
stays below the knee now;
Because the lips of her mouth
twist toward shadows at dusk-

Pull down the weight of memory
like people at night who
pull down the blinds.

Some days she thinks it is simple;
that everyone she sees
is a thin wisp of smoke.

That their voices, narrow and stark
as grey hallways, must be the reason
she turns away.

The glass of Merlot becomes
lost friends and lovers,
makes her less afraid
of strangers in subways-

the disheveling of
old sweaters and dreams.

~Heather Lenz

(for my grandmother)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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