Acknowledgements
From the chapbook Captured, a Pteranodon
chapbook published by Lieb-Schott Publications.
Copyright 1983 by Patricia Lieb. All rights reserved.
Grateful acknowledgement is made to the editors
and publishers of the following publications where
the collection of poems in Captured first appeared:
Affinities: The South Florida Poetry Review, for
Shadows and The Deep: Sirens; Anthology of
Florida Poets for Grave Digging (third printing),
and Looking At You Through A Rain Covered
Window Pane; Cedar Rock for Grave Digging and
Waiting; Earthwise for Hurricane; The Florida Arts
Gazette for Captured; Gryphon for Learning To
Write A Poem; Indian Corn for Bathing In Red Wine
Words; Pudding for Grave Digging (second
printing); The Spoon River Quarterly for Dreaming
Of Wheat; Tempest for The Eagle And The Dove;
and Xarier Review for Until Dawn
From the chapbook Captured, a Pteranodon
chapbook published by Lieb-Schott Publications.
Copyright 1983 by Patricia Lieb. All rights reserved.
Grateful acknowledgement is made to the editors
and publishers of the following publications where
the collection of poems in Captured first appeared:
Affinities: The South Florida Poetry Review, for
Shadows and The Deep: Sirens; Anthology of
Florida Poets for Grave Digging (third printing),
and Looking At You Through A Rain Covered
Window Pane; Cedar Rock for Grave Digging and
Waiting; Earthwise for Hurricane; The Florida Arts
Gazette for Captured; Gryphon for Learning To
Write A Poem; Indian Corn for Bathing In Red Wine
Words; Pudding for Grave Digging (second
printing); The Spoon River Quarterly for Dreaming
Of Wheat; Tempest for The Eagle And The Dove;
and Xarier Review for Until Dawn
Captured
Your eyes are greener than words
surrounding me like
buzzards preying on a dead wolf.
Your eyes
preying, calling out dark words,
words that come over me, burn my
insides like green whiskey
stolen in the night; the
last night without loneliness
without a net wrapping around my naked hips, my
breast, pulling
my body to the other
world, where noothing is clearer
than smoke, than clouds,
wet and dissolving,
dissolving before my eyes--
my green, green eyes.
Your eyes are greener than words
surrounding me like
buzzards preying on a dead wolf.
Your eyes
preying, calling out dark words,
words that come over me, burn my
insides like green whiskey
stolen in the night; the
last night without loneliness
without a net wrapping around my naked hips, my
breast, pulling
my body to the other
world, where noothing is clearer
than smoke, than clouds,
wet and dissolving,
dissolving before my eyes--
my green, green eyes.
Grave Digging
Our graves are there,
covered with dead-layers
of years and lovers.
Restless,
in the time-locked coffins,
folded hands
with unmatching bands,
pound
at each others' chest
Should the coffins crack,
just an inch,
our dust will whirl
into the sun.
Our graves are there,
covered with dead-layers
of years and lovers.
Restless,
in the time-locked coffins,
folded hands
with unmatching bands,
pound
at each others' chest
Should the coffins crack,
just an inch,
our dust will whirl
into the sun.
Learning To Write A Poem
I'll come again tomorrow
wringing my hands, like Mama's
laundry,
painting blue words,
like the bluing she put
in the water.
I'll come again, to this place
on the beach, and I'll take
the unsharpened pencil,
rub it, rub it
on a stone, until someday, like me,
it will be sharp
enough to fly.
I'll come again tomorrow
wringing my hands, like Mama's
laundry,
painting blue words,
like the bluing she put
in the water.
I'll come again, to this place
on the beach, and I'll take
the unsharpened pencil,
rub it, rub it
on a stone, until someday, like me,
it will be sharp
enough to fly.
Looking At You Through A Rain
Covered Window Pane
You are all wet.
The rain in marble
sized drops falls
from your rain hat.
I see the clear blue of your
eyes watching
through the night. My candle lamp, dim
flickers, burns
holds my face, holds it
firm. My brown eyes
hurt with fire burning
burning long night hours the rain can't drown
flames
your face
watching me
as if you were really there.
Covered Window Pane
You are all wet.
The rain in marble
sized drops falls
from your rain hat.
I see the clear blue of your
eyes watching
through the night. My candle lamp, dim
flickers, burns
holds my face, holds it
firm. My brown eyes
hurt with fire burning
burning long night hours the rain can't drown
flames
your face
watching me
as if you were really there.
Shadows
I dance alone in dark shadows,
naked as the clean night
when ocean air circled, blowing
fine sands around my ankles.
I dance when the moon is full, my
black hair covering my nipples
like the night we danced beach
sand, coquina shells into the sea,
sea miles into time--time you swallowed
like the yellow eyes of a hungry wolf swallowing far-off
mountains.
I dance while wild winds blow my black
hair into storm clouds, tasting
salt on your body.
My nipples sting, swell.
You are alive in me dancing
clouds and craters.
I dance with you in far-off
mountain shadows.
I dance alone in dark shadows,
naked as the clean night
when ocean air circled, blowing
fine sands around my ankles.
I dance when the moon is full, my
black hair covering my nipples
like the night we danced beach
sand, coquina shells into the sea,
sea miles into time--time you swallowed
like the yellow eyes of a hungry wolf swallowing far-off
mountains.
I dance while wild winds blow my black
hair into storm clouds, tasting
salt on your body.
My nipples sting, swell.
You are alive in me dancing
clouds and craters.
I dance with you in far-off
mountain shadows.
Waiting
I wait by the bush
burning every color
with red, with sin.
I take off my clothes,
parade, taking deep breaths,
inhaling fire into my lungs
until they rise and smoke,
smoke words, smoke you.
I stand naked
in the sun, my face to the flames.
I let my skin bake
until it is hot, red hot,
and when you circle me,
I peel. Expose bones.
You clothe me with blazing
red eyes, eat me like poems,
bake me into stone, the stone
you think on,
the stone you rub, rub until fire burns your fingers--
the stone you rub to death.
I wait by the bush
burning every color
with red, with sin.
I take off my clothes,
parade, taking deep breaths,
inhaling fire into my lungs
until they rise and smoke,
smoke words, smoke you.
I stand naked
in the sun, my face to the flames.
I let my skin bake
until it is hot, red hot,
and when you circle me,
I peel. Expose bones.
You clothe me with blazing
red eyes, eat me like poems,
bake me into stone, the stone
you think on,
the stone you rub, rub until fire burns your fingers--
the stone you rub to death.
Until Dawn
Alone, here, on the slate floor,
with fireplace heat scorching my breaths,
I hold to my heart,
stems of holly,
pull leaves off,
one at a time,
playing he loves me not--
pitching questions into flames,
watching words burn,
watching passion burn,
late into the night,
watching until the fire dies,
until coals turn to pillows of soot,
until dawn covers me like a stiff sheet,
and the last berries vanish
from my cold hand.
Alone, here, on the slate floor,
with fireplace heat scorching my breaths,
I hold to my heart,
stems of holly,
pull leaves off,
one at a time,
playing he loves me not--
pitching questions into flames,
watching words burn,
watching passion burn,
late into the night,
watching until the fire dies,
until coals turn to pillows of soot,
until dawn covers me like a stiff sheet,
and the last berries vanish
from my cold hand.
Hurricane
You come to me in the night, every night,
circling like a hurricane and I am in your eye.
Circling, circling fast and wild, fast and wild.
I cannot move, cannot escape desires,
desires that burn, cry for your rushing waters:
Your fingers are lightening in my hair, thunder on
my lips.
Your mouth, moist, clean as saltwater washing my
breast,
swelling my nipples; your thighs pushing harder
than winds surrounding my hips, pulling my body
from tranquillity, pulling my cells, my senses into
your
raging forces. My skin leaps into your winds, winds
ripping through me until I am swallowed
in ecstasy.
You come to me in the night, every night,
circling like a hurricane and I am in your eye.
Circling, circling fast and wild, fast and wild.
I cannot move, cannot escape desires,
desires that burn, cry for your rushing waters:
Your fingers are lightening in my hair, thunder on
my lips.
Your mouth, moist, clean as saltwater washing my
breast,
swelling my nipples; your thighs pushing harder
than winds surrounding my hips, pulling my body
from tranquillity, pulling my cells, my senses into
your
raging forces. My skin leaps into your winds, winds
ripping through me until I am swallowed
in ecstasy.
Dreaming Of Wheat
The chaste field
blazed gold
in moonlight
while we ran,
laughing,
hands locked,
folding fine stalks
until they cracked
like crisp sheets
against our thighs
The chaste field
blazed gold
in moonlight
while we ran,
laughing,
hands locked,
folding fine stalks
until they cracked
like crisp sheets
against our thighs
Bathing In Red Wine Words
They float sometimes
like bubbles fizzing
at the top of a frozen
stemmed glass;
like air pockets bouncing
from my toes
after the gush of water
pours from the faucet
striking them
to cover me
with red, sweet whispers,
smoothing, intoxicating;
then fall
so casually
like steam
trailing down air-tight windows.
They float sometimes
like bubbles fizzing
at the top of a frozen
stemmed glass;
like air pockets bouncing
from my toes
after the gush of water
pours from the faucet
striking them
to cover me
with red, sweet whispers,
smoothing, intoxicating;
then fall
so casually
like steam
trailing down air-tight windows.
The Eagle And The Dove
We are like birds
you flying high, so high
above me.
My dove-lite wings, here
a planet below your eagle feathers
fight to flap, to fly.
My toes dig my earth-nest
while my body stretches,
my back arches
and when I look up
I see you there,
your face glowing
in your star, high
above my night,
my day
moving fast, fast
spinning, spinning.
My feather-litetoes
dance this sandy earth,
dance its dark nights,
dance its star nights.
I spread my wings,
my expanding, long wings,
and I fly. Fly.
We are like birds
you flying high, so high
above me.
My dove-lite wings, here
a planet below your eagle feathers
fight to flap, to fly.
My toes dig my earth-nest
while my body stretches,
my back arches
and when I look up
I see you there,
your face glowing
in your star, high
above my night,
my day
moving fast, fast
spinning, spinning.
My feather-litetoes
dance this sandy earth,
dance its dark nights,
dance its star nights.
I spread my wings,
my expanding, long wings,
and I fly. Fly.
The Deep: Sirens
I flap my arms like they are wings.
Salt waves swish around my waist.
My waist is as small, as tight
as a swan's neck,
yet wet, clean, white as a deep-sea
pearl.
I swish my glittering finned tail,
green in the deep among sea moss
growing
with fishes swimming in and out of my air castles
reflect in the green of me.
I flap my arms like they are wings.
Salt waves swish around my waist.
My waist is as small, as tight
as a swan's neck,
yet wet, clean, white as a deep-sea
pearl.
I swish my glittering finned tail,
green in the deep among sea moss
growing
with fishes swimming in and out of my air castles
reflect in the green of me.
| Captured a chap book of poem Copyright (c) 1983 - 2010 by Patricia Lieb |
EXITUS, a pen and ink graphic illustration to a poem by the same title, is the work of James Ronald Barlett.
In attempt to visually portray the Schopenhauerian doctrine of the principle of individuation and man's
unsuccessful effort to overcome separation in the universe, be it through love, religion, or art. Through any
one of these acts, man can lift the Mayan Veil which separates him/her from the eternal, finding therein
momentary union with the All.
James Ronald Barlett
Former Professor of German
University of Mississippi
In attempt to visually portray the Schopenhauerian doctrine of the principle of individuation and man's
unsuccessful effort to overcome separation in the universe, be it through love, religion, or art. Through any
one of these acts, man can lift the Mayan Veil which separates him/her from the eternal, finding therein
momentary union with the All.
James Ronald Barlett
Former Professor of German
University of Mississippi
EXITUS, a pen and ink graphic illustration to a
poem by the same title, is the work of James
Ronald Barlett
poem by the same title, is the work of James
Ronald Barlett