#jessicarockpoet

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: anywhere but there

treading water under a moonless sky, inky clouds covering each and every star, trying to breathe as the black closes in, feeling the roar before it drums in my ears.

the telephone does not ring.

you do not know, you do not know, I’d never dare to breathe or achoo... modern day panzer-man, that’s you.

the telephone does not ring.

I know I must cut the root, gnarly and encircling my foot, a tether ripping into waterlogged flesh, tightening each time I think of you.

the telephone does not ring.

I have resorted to carrying glue, tiny pieces meticulously repaired, some lost and some discarded, all gleaming in spite of you.

[printempsaparis]

haiku: soggy rêves

midday siesta...

a glorious indulgence

(I’m a lucky girl)

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: after brunch

what is more français than leaning out my window on a sunday morn?

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: time to return home

perhaps we are migrating birds, secret routes etched in internal maps, needing to fly faster, farther, an ingrained yearning for the perceived horizon.

february chirps reignite fallow fires, wing tips dipping into cold blue skies, a transformation taking shape, winter’s thaw dripping from our feathers.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: bonus round

what is my secret? I don’t just survive, I thrive: living life fully.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: this place no longer smells like you

in a city that was once yours but never mine, our whistle-stop romance withered and died, forever washed away by dirty rain.

skinny lanes and busted mirrors, palm trees towering over terra cotta, hands of ghosts etched in concrete.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: ma tante, mon coeur

a walking angel, a forever miracle, a woman spared from death.

ice cream in plastic spoons, cool pool water under a blanket of leaves, smiling like nothing ever happened.

thirty-year old heart in a patinaed cage, hopefully chirping, red, pulsating, the church organ playing on repeat.

you’ve come back to us lighter, happier: occasional cynicism replaced by smiles, forever treasuring every passing moment.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: montréal in spring

feet falling in sync for miles, smiles, laughter, and the whiff of youth. my tongue twists around their words, impressing you and making me blush.

blue and black lighting denotes the flood, crashing waves and falling masts. our hands clasped in the first pew, waiting for the beautiful dénoument.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: polihale power

paddling out from dark into light, the sunshine immediately warming my entire grateful being.

with sandy slippers and shooting stars, our hearts grow bigger.

how small we are in this big blue world! time so precious and fleeting, like a leaf slowly falling to the ground.

best to wake up early, smile until your cheeks hurt, and live every day fully.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: penitent

crawling on all fours, knuckles grinding and bloody, confessions like tears.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: sadness season

eliot was right: “april is the cruelest month” ...intangible blue.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: reasons to rise

because the parisian streets are cooling, and filled with subway tickets.

because the birds cheerfully chirp as the sun arcs across the cloudy sky.

because my baby leaves tomorrow, and I don’t know how to say goodbye.

because the pigeon wings loudly beat against the brushed silver eaves.

because this bed needs to be made, white sheets pulled tight.

because I wanted love, and found a universe.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: was that today or yesterday?

transatlantic night flight, chasing the rising sun, her wrapped head on my shoulder.

long yellow curtains, shiny black piano, books arranged by size.

go to sleep in the wine cellar, cool and quiet, no sense of time.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: all the blues

shimmery powder blue, white hot almost, the pool’s far end glinting like diamonds. dark grey-blue in the shadowy shallows, cooler water lapping against the concrete steps. beyond the wall, the emerald coast is green-blue, whitecaps loudly pushing their way to the sand. farther out, the blues become dark and daring, signaling the sharp drop separating us from eternity.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: how do you eat an elephant?

“our house is porous,” I think, as I twirl my blonde locks, thinking about where we’ll move next. (there’s so much to tell you.) how marie and I beautifully bonded on the open banks of canal st. martin, cobblestones lulling her baby to sleep. or that one day with my older sister, in the depths of an autumn-tinged long lake - I rode the wave until the very end.

(there’s so much to tell you.)

little by little, you are disappearing, like watercolors in the rain, blood-soaked memories running down like tears. perhaps there will be a masterpiece in its place, our mutual history morphing into something new, a pill that’s easier to swallow.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: forget about it

I write about people I mourn, filling the empty spaces with words, romanticizing all of the sullied bits.

like a woman who has given birth, I erase the pain and plant flowers instead, a bed of roses free of thorns where we lay.

I have an addiction to whitewashing, piling layers of fresh paint upon sadness, repeating, “make myself clean, make myself clean.��