A poem: "The Vessel"

The Vessel
By Jenna Reimer

I must go and leave this behind,
Leave you behind.

A dampened breeze rains over my heart;
The wars in my frightened wings cry fiercely.

My memory will surface like the darkening of night
But will desert you in its hour of retreat.

Here it is a shipwreck, swallowed in a vicious cave;
My soul is the fury of its blind captain howling in fear.

This place, Like the sea, sank discoverers and gargled hope;
This place, like the distance, devoured desire.

I vowed to act beyond this wreckage and walk;
The lighthouse guiding me by the hour of its blazed spell.

There is still fire within my marked grave,
Ignited by hungering teeth and a cemetery of tomorrows.

My entwined body will merge with the water’s dance
Drifting and singing like a sailor in the fore of a ship.

The voyage of my destiny will begin amidst your longing;
What sorrow you may express will be drowned by my compass.

Departing like the deathless wind I will set sail
In the passing moments of a cherry dawn and forget.

A Poem: "A Letter"

A Letter
By Jenna Reimer

If you were to not wake
At tomorrow’s dawn,
Where the red branches of a willow
Birth the slow hand of autumn,
I would continue.
If I no longer wish to breath
Your fire, an impalpable ash,
Destroying this deadened brush,
My wind of banners will sail a free isle.
If you decide to leave me along shore
Drenched in sea water, chained in weeds,
My arms would lift; my roots
Set off towards another land.
I would forget you as if all that exists
Exists without you.
You would forget me, little by little,
And I would forgive you.
When you no longer have a voice
I shall go on living;
My years becoming all but roadways
Of forgetting and searching.

A Poem: "The Third Night"

The Third Night
By Jenna Reimer

Our way is in the breeze flowing
Amongst all the trees, all their boughs,
All their leaves; an imperfect vice.
The transparencies that, too, is imperfect
bond our breath
Into one lucid sigh of leadened-love.
My eye is your eye within a shade
Of ballooned moonlight
Where we drift into an unfinished bliss;
An imperfect virtue.
We will never drag our hunger and stay,
Artless like stones against a barren sky.

Life’s Disease

He is standing there
On the edge of my vision
With mine eyes in his eyes,
My body the body of his hands.
In a clean forget he will
Soon take up his life and walk.

He cloaks my essence
In a delicate wild thing
That speaks for me when my
Words escape into a watchful sky;
Where stones disappear
Into a silken sphere.

Torn in a prideful burn
He preys tiredly, and weak
Until the rains rain drowns
Us both in a mindful sorrow;
Until we break and cry
Into the looming moon.

Do you get where I’m coming from?

I know you try.
Talk in drunkenness, but otherwise
our sweetened speech faces
death to my odd visage.

I want to love.
My soul; alone in the wild
thirsts for recognition to be unloved.
Do you get where I’m coming from?

Your face of one
resurrects my mystical dream
of moonlight kisses and winters breath;
be bounded only to a wish of sleep.

Your tears look bleak.
I do not understand, what is, not numb;
my intentions are well.
Do you get where I’m coming from?

The Last Summer part II

In harrowing fears the wind works against us.
Branches build within the confines of our mind,
the roots of our soul,
the harrowing fears of our very heart.
Snow pelts windows and withers trees
waltzing along the sodden pasture line
forgetting the profit and loss.
Here is no soil but only water,
no water but soil in a bogged road
where pebbles drift from mountains
who too once were the pith of a stone.
The desolate, the heavy earth,
the faded sky is loved by those
who are gladdened by simple beaten grey-
now hoary in a lurking mist.
Not today, I’ve learned to understand
the love of summer storm,
but it were worthless to tell her so.