- 'Hands'
|
Here's just a few of my favourite poems by Miss Jewel Kilcher :) I've gotten them mostly from her poetry book "A Night Without Amour" (distributed by Harper Collins Publishers).
There's also a few taken from the little booklet in her "Pieces of You" cd.
I'm not normally a big fan of poetry (i always struggled through that part of the English course miserably in school LOL).
But i love Jewel's work. It's beautiful in it's simplicity. And speaks to you and inspires without the use of fancy metaphors and underlying themes.
As i said there's just a few of my favourites here - if i copied out the whole book - not only would it take me forever! it would be unfair to Jewel and her management.
If you like what you read here - please, go out and buy the book - you won't be disappointed. :) |
"So Just Kiss Me"
So just kiss me and let my hair
tell me nothing needs to be done-
There is no bell without a voice
instead, let me steady myself
of a man who won't ask me to be
as I am
a blonde flame
wrapped up
that will come to his arms
for mending
messy itself in your fingers
no clocks need winding
needing to borrow my own
in the arms
what he needs, but lets me exist
a hurricane
in a tiny body
like the safest harbor
I
it does not whimper
its one lashed eye keeps blinking
LOVE IS NOT WITHOUT YOU
II
I go back today
my clothing canker sores
my altar a wound
(I don't wanna go)
i miss you
my teeth ache
my bones are confused
they'd grown so close
my flesh cries like children
i speak to them in hush
it's not fair they say
bring him back!
beg him stay!
it's not up to me. i try to explain
but mind can't make heart understand
it insists simply with quiet disbelief
back to where I must move from
my toothbrush no longer welcome
whose bleeding can only stop
when there's nothing left
to remind him of me
Joy, Pure Joy, I am
What I always wanted
to grow up and be
Things are becoming
more of a dream with
each waking day-
The heavy brows of Daily Life
are becoming encrusted
with glitter and the shaking finger
of consequence is
beginning to giggle
Grumpy old men
have wings
Burns sport Halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breathe
as I remember the
incredible lightness
of living
I don't know how to do anything
How do I rise above?
Why is the soil of
Where is my sling
This pen is scrawny and hardly
I am trying to move mountains with words
But I am an ant
I scribble
I drool
I move like a worm
whose world
(words)
encompassed a mile
Where will this worm
find wings?
I look in the mirror
and I see filth
Who is that?
Where did The Angel go?
Why is there dirt
staring back at me?
incompetence beneath my nails
Why does doubt paint
blue rings
beneath my eyes and
stain my skin
Why does my spine assume failure
Why do my lips
flirt with they sky;
why do I try to lasso
Beauty with such a
pitiful rope?
Where is the hair of Rapunzel
or Samson?
Where is my stone,
My gun?
Where is the weapon with which
I may fight this apathy
that feels like sleep
in my limbs
that loosens my brother's smile
That kills my neighbor's daughter
seems able to ink out
or erase this plague that
infests my
Generation
This Giant, This Ogre
This Beast, This Death
that assumes a million faces,
that borrows my own.
We talk
slowly
about nothing
about movies
we stick to
surface streets
and find no
meaning in cafe windows
no substance in
hotel rooms
I used to unwrap you!
tender layers unfolding
like eager gold
but now
we are cool
and recount
our daily bores
as though
the sum of our
uses
equaled
something
(more)
substantial
while softer
things shrivel
and dry roots
go unfed
strangled
by the phone line
and all
that is
not said
The sky pierces me
with its turquoise embrace.
The scent of lemons
and suntan oil find
their way to me
by the pool:
No one is here.
I walked the beaches alone
and drink silly concoctions
with little paper umbrellas.
In my room, my guitar
is calling to me.
I will go to it soon
and write songs
for love lost
and for love yet to come.
Merry Christmas, baby,
goodnight.
My prince has slipped!
his tongue no longer strong
My prince the stars have
You've taken your coal
You've taken your will
me with nothing but
I want Paris
God how I miss
At night
and his face has turned
to shadow
but gray (how sad!)
it used to be so full
of spit and roses
fallen from your crown
and I can not fathom
their fading-
some things should be forever!
and your seaward gaze-
and your weakness and left
words to keep me warm
But I don't want them!
Take them back!
I want you drunk on wine
I want to walk with you
and hold you up
and giggle and kiss
your smile and thick skin
(Do you remember?)
How I'd worry
and you'd press me tight
against you. Extinguishing
the red flame
of my head against
your shoulder
Smooth as chalk dust you'd laugh
in the face of
death and uncertainty
Do you remember?
You'd say time knew nothing
well now you're gone
and time is all I have left
Burn
her eyes
Kiss
her mouth
Indulge
in her brown skin
Rape
her mind
like coming home
to a native land
without hope of
understanding them
that you may
fathom
its strange tongue
because
it reminds you
of Mother
because it is not your own
but so sweet
so familiar
your pale and inbred hands
can only faintly fathom
I am not from here,
my hairs smells of the wind
and is full of constellations
and I move about this world
with a healthy disbelief
and approach my days and my work
with vaporous consequence
a touch that is translucent
but can violate stone.
Lost
Alone
Fear
Desperation
Hope
Grace
is a puzzle
of stars
that breathes
like water
and chews
like stone
is a reminder
of how far
acceptance
is from
understanding
is a bird
that believes itself
into extinction
the honest recognition
of a false truth
seeing who you really are
at your highest
is who you will become
the refinement of a
Soul through time
I guess what I
you'd stay with me always.
I guess what I
those hands vowing
I guess what
I am not loving in vain.
wanted was
to hear
wanted was
to see
never to leave my own.
I wanted was
to know
you don't call
I check again
I become uneasy-
is this a frame?
Suddenly i'm not so sure
I check my sources
each conversation becomes a crumb
how easily I'm led
how stupid I've been
to believe
you could be
loving me
you who can not be seduced
by anything other than
the temperance
of need
each one facilitating the next
and suddenly I see my place
the phone rings
you say hello
but I don't believe you
At first it seemed shocking
I want to live with you!
I want to wake
comforted by your oddness
seduced by your knowledge
I want to care for you
brush your hair
and pet you at bedtime,
but now the idea
tickles my tongue
and intrigues my curiosity
beyond the ability
to rationalize or resist:
each morning
in your arms
of my ways.
put lotion on your scars
watching your eyes close slow
like a child's
heavy with the thousand things
that filled your day.
