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Summer Shaw Poems
You Were, You Are
I read your works and am shaken up inside- All hackney sacked and alive But still At the same time-
A love letter to Jack
You were my first love and I found you by accident Quietly sitting in a row among others with that blue jacket on- The course of my life forever changed.
Oh My God
Did you know... God is in church today God wears expensive yoga pants God likes beads
You sit close to me on the porch each day and we talk about moving to the west and dream about our new house with rooms
To the room where we first met
Back, back, back through the seasons to you in my arms and eyes.
It shines all down onto broken glass To be devoured a hundred times over the limit Then spewed onto coarse pavement Where dirty soles tread upon the theme
I wrestle with words to say to you always working the nouns and verbs switching them around you and me waiting for a true sentence to form.
Deeper than the tappings
From the depths comes the eternal quiet And the other million things sit atop that With restless bottoms and fidgeting hands Tapping to different rhythms-
Inhale. Exhale. Again and again we continue. The knots of a fine rope circle in on themselves
On The Verge Wearing Yellow
A banana whale on wheels with a belly full of poisons and I drive her with no one but the wind to talk to I stand on two laced up wallets and try to hold my head up high maybe to god or the trees or anyone but you and you and you
Transcend The Essence
Inside the object there is nothing- outside of you Opposed to the nothingness you appear more than ever
Silence and Laughter
I've been too serious lately with my melancholy thoughts and half-moon eyes Always dying, always dying, always dying inside
I'm trying to write something happy although I don't feel that way Something that will make another smile although my lips won't make that shape
Halfway through the heat of a hot day, the sun began to whisper a story into my pours, Barely audible, the sun's voice broke into the silence of all sacred thoughts saying,
Comments about Summer Shaw
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
You Were, You Are
I read your works and am shaken up inside-
All hackney sacked and alive
At the same time-
Saddened by the idea that you were.
Where do I fit in into the stories or your words
That swish around my brain like a baby in a womb?
That cannot be birthed out of me- no.
It is your time no more-
You are black and white pictures on a screen not yet invented in your day.
You are biographies and dreams pieced together in secrets passed.
You are unsweetened coffee and cigarettes with a voice.
It is my time now-
I am pajamas in a bed, with wet ...