Four Poems
by Hannah Leah
The Ride
it's a long wait for thirty seconds of gripping awful pleasure -- I grow tired --
anticipation and maybe dread -- the ride will be worth it I think looking around at everyone waiting
expectantly -- some look terrified, bored, electrified -- soon it will be my turn to jump in and hold on
tight while things get rolling over to the other side -- I see you and then it starts -- the climb facing
sky only a few clouds menacing dark -- I turn my face away carefree with wind in my hair -- I
imagine your malignant face hoping for a trace of a smile but suddenly a deep breath -- no
exhalation and things spiral -- the wind turning fierce -- whipping I've lost the sun your face hear
only laughing or screaming -- lost and found in confusion my head is beaten side to side -- I can't
remember what I was looking for -- I know you are watching just as sudden is the end -- pitching
forward into a motionless world I am smacked and flattened
but there you are opening your arms -- a dragon in bloom
I think oh god not again
Note to Father
how could you
fill my dreams with snakes and rivers running deep
grasses move in water like hair
that will embrace me after all this time
I am not of this world
set aside set apart
a part is all that is left
of the side of me you never saw
call me daughter
I only see ghosts among the trees
pretending to wrap seductive arms
then drifting
sincerely.
Forging a Path Among Rules
Although this is a poem for you
expect nothing
ask no questions.
Follow the broken rules.
They lie open . . .breathing
They are not helpless. Do not be fooled by the way they lean back, exposing throats,
the fleshy underside of chins. Potentially inviting. Yes, I agree.
But when threatened they rise up terrible wonderful, raging in beauty with the objective of stifling
every good intention on your measly part. They will snap monstrous jaws and swallow whole.
They will give you
freedom from
expression.
Take a good chance. Ask no questions. Expect nothing.
They will tell you to reap benefit.
They will tell you don't rape the structure.
They will offer unfamiliar.
This poem (for you) will say break the whole.
Forgetting to Forget
ebullient measures
lift her under black clouds-
those memories of him
she held down
his grip almost painful
but she believes in love
he laughing held her there
kissing playful then
threatening to spit in her face
she lost her page
forgot what she was talking about
mid-sentence
and crying in useless struggle
"Perspective"
I write through perspectives and integrate poetry with art.
The artwork, "Perspectives," was the first child of this integration as words
and filaments of perspective filled my head but never landed on paper. The
shattered lens of the eye is symbolic of the multiplicity of views that populate the
mind's eye in every individual; the drop of blood, the cutting anguish caused by the
recognition of paradox. My poems color my art, my art defines my words.
END
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