A Poem: "The Bones of Winter"

It is as if everything dies at once; together in a quiet leave.
The morning after is silent;
All the leaves have fallen- lush branches now skeletal and frail.
The symphony of birds, the whisper of warm winds,
The performance of waltzing trees,
Disappear into a realm of cold forgotten.
A heavy air, a crueler weighty sky
Burdens a now deadened terrain;
A season destroyed to make way for another.
This vale of grief shrouds the earth in sables
Where we will have to wait to be children once again.

A Poem: "Quiet!"

O Sorrow! O Sorrow!
In the night you sigh so deeply,
In solitude you breathe a cold air of sorrow, sorrow.
On the crimson fields, autumn’s undress, you weep; weeping
While no sun shines, shining on your tears tearing-
Tired, cracked cries from a suffering mind.
O who is it that squeals, whose voice forms such wretched wheals?
With sorrow, streaming sorrows, choking themselves with feral cries?
O shameless mass, brooding howler- O preacher of sickening wallows-
Away with you! Desperate despised, demise your sobbing yelps!
O shadow, masked by the loosened night- At dusk your modesty revealed
And no longer may you shout,
Of Sorrow! Sorrow! Sorrow!

A Poem: "My Breath, Taken Twice"

My Breath, Taken Twice
By Jenna Reimer

My breath, taken twice
Is all I have to tell today.
Once, kissed by a soft wind,
My cheeks flushed a rose-red-
Twice, that breeze parting
Into an eternal distance-
This is poetry I cannot write.
This, and my heart, and all the trees,
And all the fields wide,
In time I may forget-
And never a pen will speak
This feeling so fleetingly.

A Poem: "Here"

Here
By Jenna Reimer

Time is a soft sigh.
It is a quiet spoken breath,
Echoing than disappearing
With its resonance;
A hushed sigh - a silent silhouette.
It is a light dust that skims an undiscovered text
That embraces a powerful poem.
The Endless verses of written words
Suck the marrow from all that seems concrete.
The poet's voice becomes lost
Amongst a furry of illegible drafts
Where words shift and dance
Across infinite pages.
Pages that drift atop the breath
Of seamless, hollow sighs;
Sighs that die with every inhale
And exhale.

A Poem: "Small-voiced"

Small-voiced
By Jenna Reimer

I live in a sliver of Time
Where no Hell frightens me,
Where a glorious fire ignites
Outside my window
And hisses an insufferable cry
Making everything red:
My skin is rose-red,
The silhouette on the floor,
The raining ashes
And my pale hands are red,
Gripping the window sill-
Its cracked wood gripping
Specks of fire.

I am uncertain not fearful,
But uncertainty may be
My only emotion.

A Poem: "To The Poet"

(I Was reading some Andrew Marvell and wanted to try my first pastoral poem... excited arn't yah?)

To The Poet
By Jenna Reimer

Give the sun the grace of night,
Neutral doves the morning flight.
Let crystal strings drift aloft a brook
Where leaves lay grazing from a tree that shook.
Sprouts that dance amongst the wind
Will rest in soil and rebirth again.
Shower the land with precious stones,
Nourish the field where creatures roam.
Basking in the day's lilac scent,
Their bows embody life’s inherent bent.
Write the beauty of tomorrow's mourn
And speak of truth that life adorns.
Mould the hills for us to reach
Where a place in time we will come to meet.

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.

A Poem: "For Once"

Once again, another beautiful morning has lifted my spirits into an enlightened wakefulness. I cherish the wee hours of the morning when all is still asleep, waiting for the sun to break and spread its warmth, as I am in my most lucid state of mind. Everyday I am up at 4am and, although I could use a bit more sleep, love the quiet tranquility I am able to embrace in a welcomed solitude. It is just before daybreak where my mind is clear of any future intentions and I write in a naked bliss (not literally of course haha) and this morning was no exception.

For Once
By Jenna Reimer

Though many blossoms sway in the morning breeze,
Their roots remain as one.
I breathe this summer wind, transcendent;
Yet, I discern my mind and body beyond this picture.
It is this picture, hesitant and uncertain,
That has never given me a shining reflection
Of a lighted vision of deeper clarity.
Much like the surface of a well’s water,
Whose contents are hidden inside a murky grave,
I whither into my own intentions.
Looking outside the window
Discovering a nectar-like truth,
I begin to sway my own leaves and flowers.