Treasure Island

Russell Nero

(May 25th,1995)

Buried My September

I have no words to say; I am but a man
a wildfire destined to burn out
I am crippled by the weight, the weight of the sonnet of silence
The words, I have no use
and no resonance of voice nor desire to utter them
The trust I have for myself
scribbled in a concrete elegy
London, please become a home for me
and take me far, far away from here
Valentine, oh Valentine, simply divine
sink in water, drown forever
for a mermaid in beauty you are
but I buried my September in your arms
once last time; when I kissed you, farewell
Now red remains the flavor upon my tongue
which the cat will hide to protect my oath of silence
and I pray London will steal my mind
for I can't imagine the worst case scenario
...coming back home to nothing...
...coming back, absent Valentine...
I have no words to say; I am but a woman
a wildfire destined to burn forever
I cannot be contained, crippled by nothing
passionately I passively nimbly prance
in the fields of solitude
and crash land in the hay of relaxation
gazing up at my ceiling of ocean with clay glaciers
sinking in the warm water, drowning forever
for a mermaid I remain in beautiful imperfection
a flower in the meadow of wildgrass
a crack in a clean, cut sidewalk
Crack! ...I see the rip of my ocean twist and mourn
and I, its daughter, crumble in return
in watch of a plane going London
London, please return him back to me
please bring him closer and closer to me
Solider, oh Soldier, a hero headstrong
survive the snakes in the stars, play in the snow in winter
for a chance to revel in the memory of me
I buried my September in your arms one last time
in hopes you'd return to me in the Spring
The red staining your tongue was for you to remember
to think fondly of me
but I pray for the sonnet of the sleepy silver sunset
to steal my mind for I can't imagine
the worst case scenario...

Submitted: Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 12, 2013

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  • Karen Gonzalez-videla (6/17/2013 4:54:00 PM)

    I... I get lost in the passionate words you use when writing poetry. I have loved every single one of the poems I read from you so far, and I am pretty sure that's how it is always going to be. You are totally incredible, fantastic, talented, gifted, passionate, brilliant, magnificent... This is what should really be called poetry :) (Report) Reply

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