Lovelorn Poet in Eugene, OR: Queen of Crows II

Queen of Crows II

Queen of Crows II

Time held
My heart helpless
Between love and serpentine thought
Come undone
Dreams were given
Tasted in mind’s light

To lose the way
Seems tawdry and strange
What’s feared cannot be hidden, forms fleeting ‘neath the ice
Truth be gold
Tongue shapes a plea
Drives down within cold night

Burn bright
My gentle soul
Your ocean’s clear as glass
And above
Fire’s light aglow
Skies twist, but all is right

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHere’s another in the Queen of Crows series that recently appeared on the Eugene, OR feed. I’m finding the artwork that accompanies the poems to be particularly fascinating – and this one, about the crow and a beet, especially. Trying to locate the original source of images is even more difficult than written words (at least Google can help there), so unless otherwise indicated, I try to believe they’re personal creations of the writer.

Lovelorn Poet in Eugene, OR: Queen of Crows 1

Queen of Crows (sand which?)

Queen of Crows (sand which?)

I dreamed a river, and it was full
Of all the things we ever said

To each other, and to others
Nipping at our toes

I fished a line, double time
Caught a rumor, silvered in the sun

I put it with the others
Which we filleted, boned and saved

For sandwiches in the shade

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconThe Eugene, OR missed connections is typically pretty sleepy, but recently a flurry of Queen of Crows poems, letters, and stories (and their subsequent responses, rebuttals, and rejections) appeared. There is a short story titled, “Queen of Crows” by Monica Valentinelli (available in digital and print formats) but I don’t know if these pieces of writing are a kind of creative, fan-fiction response or something else entirely. May need to investigate this one further!

Lovelorn Poet in Portland, OR: One Last Riddle…

to flickr riddlers by Jef Safi

to flickr riddlers by Jef Safi

Six names were hidden
At the start of this quest

One has been found
But what of the rest?

First names and last names
Were tumbled like laundry

Connections were hidden
In the original quandary.

Many a lady is named as was guessed
But only one angel with that name was blessed

A secret of love may never be known
The depth of devotion may never be shown

But in a poem silly, sent out in the night
A secret lover revealed the name of his delight

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconSo, what’s the name of our poet from Portland’s delight? In trying to solve “One Last Riddle” I started the search for an angel’s name. Interestingly, I discovered that Barachiel  is the angel of blessings; the go-to intermediary for pursuits pertaining to relationships, family, friends or work. While this may not be the solution, it never hurts to ask for a little help, right? 

Lovelorn Poet in Portland, OR: Again Haiku

Write

Write

We don’t talk any
more. I wish we would. There’s a
lot more to say. But
not here and not now.
I’m not going to write a
haiku for the world
to see.

 

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and inadvertently-constructed haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Did you respond to one? Sieze the here and now and email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve those wishes and words  for all eternity.

Lovelorn Poet in Portland, OR: You Are My Missed Connection

Untitled by katiecooperx

Untitled by katiecooperx

 

Missed Connections in Portland

You Are My Missed Connection

Steel cables stretch across the desert floor….relief dips in the eighties. There are visions of Carrot Top dancing in my head…dancing and dancing…
I think I can hear it now, the distant buzz of those neon signs you talked so much about.

I think I’m losing my mind.
Put on a brave face kid. Sleep is for the weak he said,
those sad beautiful eyes fixed on mine.
God, those eyes…
Who’s weak now? I never thought I’d live to see the day.
You were supposed to be invincible. You promised you would be okay.

What the fuck do I do now?
I miss that smoke filled car. I remember the way your delicate tracks felt beneath my fingertips, the way my chest would ache as I’d choke back the tears… the way my touch could diminish that ego you held so dear.
I miss the wandering fingertips, I miss your sweet and gentle kiss.
I miss feeling so small and fragile in your arms, the arms that I always thought would be waiting there to keep me safe. I miss being vulnerable.

I miss you being the smoke, no…
I miss you being MY smoke.
I remember watching as you rose to the ceiling, I remember the fleeting but inevitable feeling in my heart right before you slipped through the cracks…the emptiness I feel now, just an awful reminder that I could have pulled you back.

I can’t stop wondering what would have happened,
what could have happened…
I can’t accept that it doesn’t even matter anymore.

I would give anything.
Anything. I don’t know why I didn’t stay the whole night through, I don’t think I’ll ever know. I don’t think I’ll ever stop asking myself. I should have held you closer, kissed you more… I should have let you in. I know that now…

I would have hopped on that train, you know it’s true.
No destination, no plans …It would have been me and you.
But you said you would be okay.

You said you would be okay….

What I wouldn’t give to hear you whisper in my ear one last time,
“I love the person I become when I’m with you”
All I wanted was for it to be real.
And now it’s too late, it’s too late to tell you that I know it was, to tell you that I’m here.
I’m lost without you. Please know…
I love you, I do

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

In a sea of messages selling sex, NSA hook-ups, locker-room fantasies, rants against humanity, and inebriated ramblings crafted hastily in the early hours of the day, it’s all too easy to pass-over a real message, written by a real person, about something terribly tragic and terribly real. We often hear and say the words, “I’ll be ok.” and we hold them to be true until the day comes when they no longer are.