Words Fail

Words fail sometimes,

But love doesn't.

A kiss here and there,

Shining eyes and sweetness

So breakthrough

Where reason passes cold.

Argument fodders disagreement.

Metaphor’s lost in translation.

But I’m telling you,

Warm love

Heats to the boiling point,

Where all of matter changes.

Every element has its limit,

Then each atom re-arranges.

And this much is true—

Even the coldest fish

Relaxes, unfolds with ease,

And longs to be loved

And begs for it, pleading,

“Now, unwrap me please!”

Yes! That what a little honest,

Warm love will do!

-jenn long

Diary of the Gifted One

I can tell you how he felt.

He was envied. He was scorned,

Misunderstood by his contemporaries,

Loved by few, mourned by others,

Who felt he didn't love enough

The ones who idolized himself.

Many wanted the gifts he had,

But few are really called to that,

And fewer still find what it is

Wherein their calling flies.

But it is better to fail, in your gift,

Than to succeed in someone else’s destiny—

Far better to whisper the truth from a ditch,

Than to climb up the mount to shout lies.

-jenn long

The Raindrop

A raindrop fell in my eye today,
As I leaned my head back,
And tiptoed to kiss him.
I know that sounds strange and cosmic,
But truth comes, often, stranger than fiction.
And I wondered what it meant.
I wondered what he was thinking.
I blinked very slowly,
And treasured the hidden meanings.
Then the presence of all the forces
Of the day swirled up together.
I shivered a bit, and yet felt warm,
And blessed the illusion of rainy weather.
It was a sweet awakening,

Out of a dull gray sky,
That washed the windows of my soul
Without the tears this time.

-jenn long

Charmed

He's prepared this daydream for me—
Allows me to see him for this moment.
Gloriously adorned,
The universe hangs
Glittering around his neck.
I am stunned,
For he is stunning,
I quiver to think how badly I've underestimated him,
(And spoken so casually.)
But he is so above
All of these conditions,
Detached from the results,
Yet, within my nature, so at home.
He takes my hand,
Curls it to his lips,
And gives me the tiniest, little peck.

It's a good thing that’s all he gave me,
For it’s more than I can handle.
I sense that he has more to give
When I am able to bear.
The promise is Titan planetary.
It dangles on his necklace.
But for now, a smooth worn pebble will do,
And a ribbon for my hair.

-jenn long

Hide Me, Moon

Hide me, Moon,

In your pale sight.

May I fade, and disappear

In the whiteness of your light

As you hang so full and dear?

May every blotch,

Like leopard spots,

Camouflage me

Drawing near,

With tiptoe heart,

Panting Deer,

For you?

-jenn long

Wormy Satire

In rib-less invertebrates,

The female of the species

Was created by taking out

One of the ten hearts,

Regenerationally cloning the tissue,

From dark matter in between.

And then finally, whining a rusty gear

Into the primordial blow hole.

(Which, of course, doesn’t exist today.

But you surely get the point.)

And this was all done to punish

The asexual and contented nature

Of the wormy ones.

-jenn long

Sweet Arrival

I've ever felt a closeness
To something unspeakably good.
A presence that, without moving at all,
Beats me to my arrival.
But not goading as a competitor,
Or gloating as one so much better,
He drops sweet petals,
Airs the place,
And dispels the shadows alone.

Then he waits for the likes of me.

It makes me wonder
How I can turn so easily,
And even consider something so temporary,
And so lacking.

-jenn long