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Poem by Jade Blackmore – The Last Decent Man in New York City (1990) December 22, 2020

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1990s, exes, Jade Blackmore, love poems, New York, poems, poetry, Uncategorized.
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The Last Decent Man in New York City

You don’t wear black turtlenecks.
Good.
Don’t buy one.
You don’t make obscene gestures while talking to clients on the phone.
Good.
Don’t start.
Curious words scrawled,
a frazzled New Year’s resolution.
A blend of teddy bear
and hippie charm,
the only man in modern times
to look sincere in a ponytail.
You care about what you do.
I see it in your face,
I read it in your eyes,
blue and gray without the clouds.
My only regret in the toughest city in the world
is that we drifted apart.

Poem by Jade Blackmore – Down for the Count September 17, 2019

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, poems, poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.
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I liked you better when this whole thing began-
you were fun, a sleepy-eyed man-child
making Halloween faces.
A lizard-collecting therapist’s nightmare.
Now you’re just a liar like everyone else,
internal organs on the slab for peons to pick at.
There are no secrets between us.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
If I knew less about you, I’d love you more.

 

 

 

 

Poems by Anca Mihaela Bruma – Of So Much Yearning!…, My Life and When I found the Love footprints… May 19, 2016

Posted by vscorpiozine in love poems, poems, poetry, romantic poems, romantic poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.
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Of So Much Yearning!…

Love!… of so much yearning
I do not know how to count my steps anymore…
of so much longing I grew a forest
on the verge of the World…
of so much craving even the soul
has taken the color of Time!…

Life!.. keeps biting me voluptuously,
wakefulness has become my domain,
because of so many summers
with grizzled blizzards…

Love!… of so much yearning
even our distances have become slippery…
of so much longing I have learned
the rhythm of the occurrences,
to scratch the trees’ crusts
so my soul may remain untarnished,
no fears to enclose me
and the sight of our route not to be adrift…

Of so much longing, my Love
even nights lost their prominence,
I wriggle among silenced innuendos
but my Love bloomed in a vertex
and an asymmetrical parabola surges its sensations…

Love!… of so much yearning
I have gathered belated dawns,
meeting you only at the junction
between deja vu and wingbeats…

I master each day how to love my tears
and plant unspoken seeds so,
your Sky will make them grow…

On the verge of my World
the Oblivion has just started!…

Just a stone remains bewildered!
Even the night smells of amnesia…

In this bittersweet longing
my heart took your heart’s frame!…

My Life…

My Life,
paints every moment,
with a different stroke…

Each day I dress
with Myself, so nights,
can find me no more…

I grabbed the edge
of the World, so
I will not be beyond
your touch…

I taught my tree
how to bloom, so
my words will not fall
from its branches…
anymore…

I listened to your Silence,
lighting my inner context
And I knew… no more
fictional characters
in a liquefied Reality…

just a rhythmical harmony
within heart symmetry…

I plunged Myself
in the aesthetics of Mathematics,
Now… I can count
different sizes of Life…
backwards and onwards…
with no remaining dots…

When I found the Love footprints…

When I found the Love footprints
I recessed… from Life…
Ceased my earthy sojourn…

I stumbled no more
amidst so many lexicons of forgetting…
Lost the cryptic utterances
of what could, might or should be,
the Truth… or False!…

I am not seeking the finding
as I do not find the seeking…
Still…
You see yourself outside you,
I see you inside myself…

When Love footprints were found
I stumbled no more between dots,
I just breathed
one thousand years in one day,
and quarters of heavens were built
inside my cathartic calibrations…

The eyes of a thinker
and the feeling of a knower,
a hearer of unknown traces,
the multiples within simplicity
and eternity’s dips
of these countless realities.

When I found the Love footprints
The absence became present,
and… I know:
I am pre-sent to BE
in this everlastingness fate
which sounds like a formula.

No heart geometrics,
no inner alphabets…
Simply,
a sense of nothingness
in your everyness…

Future selves
or…
secret second selves,
connecting derivative patterns
and mathematical probabilities
in a Pythagorean sphere of harmony.

 

AncaBIO:

Educator, lecturer, performance poet, eclectic thinker, mentor with staunch multi-cultural mindset and entrepreneurial attitude, Anca Mihaela Bruma considers herself a global citizen, having lived in four continents. Her eclecticism can be seen in her intertwined studies, she pursued: a Bachelor of Arts (Romania) and a Master of Business Administration (Australia).

Anca labels her own writings as being “mystically sensual”, a tool and path for women to claim their own inner feminine powers. She uses poetics as a form of literary education, self-discovery and social engagement.

Multi-awarded on four continents

Awarded during two Global Poetry Festivals Festivals (Italy, Turkey, Canada)
Published in over 18 anthologies of poetry in 1.5 years
2016 – Three times called the Poet of the Month on 3 different global poetry platforms
2016 Launched her first poetry book called “The Light of Our Beingness – I Am that You Are”
2016 – Project Manager for KIBATEK 40 – Global Poetry Festival in Dubai

 

 

Poem- The Last Xmas Party before Everybody Got Old by Jade Blackmore September 29, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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The Last Xmas Party before Everybody Got Old

They stand in the kitchen
drinking eggnog.
She grabs and arranges
sprigs of his hair
til they stand up like
Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.
He talks about his trip to Paris
(animated, rapid-fire memories),
eyes round and brimming like a little kid with a new toy.

BIO:

Jade Blackmore is a poet, pop culture blogger and occasional novelist. Visit her website at Jadeblackmore.com

Poem-Wish May 19, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, love poems, romantic poems.
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Wish

Stars, countless but distinct
Match the longing in your eyes.
Our little clique tightens
While the world tumbles.
One kiss for every year wasted,
One sweep of hand on thigh
For every chance squandered.
There is no escape from
Dreams co-opted by age
Some obsessions reach their voyeuristic
And obvious conclusion
With a flourish.

Copyright 2004 Jade Blackmore

Poem – Waiting by Jade Blackmore March 30, 2015

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Waiting

Two homeless guys deal drugs
out of an abandoned station wagon.
I watch from the Silverlake Boulevard overpass,
eating a cookie in the dark.
Shopkeepers roll down their gates,
one by one while I wait for you.
I barely know you.
I don’t know what to expect.
Innocence makes me brave.

Copyright 2009 Jade Blackmore

Poem – The Last Note by Stephen Jarrell Williams January 18, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in love poems, New Poets, romantic poems, Stephen Jarrell Williams.
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The Last Note

 In the other room
She’s playing the piano

 I sit in the dark
Listening

Questioning
How I could have changed
Her desperation

 Melody of madness

 Sleeping separately
In crimes to the other
Habit and escapism

 Loving the idea of love
But dwelling in the underlying hum
Of when we were young

So quiet now
Outside our open windows
Wind whispering through the trees

Night of the backside moon
Dancing leaves twirling
Slower and slower

Each tap of the piano key
Something near beautiful but haunting
In the lingering sound of us.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write in the middle of the night with a grin and grimace and a flame in his heart.  He is the editor of Dead Snakes at deadsnakes.blogspot.com

Poem – Inconsolable January 4, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in city poems, Hollywood, Jade Blackmore, love poems, poetry, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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Inconsolable

Marriage
Was too far gone a concept
Like
The view beyond the observatory railing or
Blue stars
Hidden in the void,
Gutless but free.
More than
A tawdry romp
Would have been icing on the cake.
Just a slap and tickle
(and a messy one at that)
would have meant
More than all the Hallmark cards
And academic diatribes in the world.
From the ping of empty beer bottles
On St. Marks Place
To a cold carless Sunset Strip
On a Monday night
Tears where a warm body should have been.
It is a Bible-thumping lie
To think
We only regret
The hefty and somber
Mistakes of life.
The silly
Rhinestones that could have been
Leave scars just as deep.

Copyright 2003 Jade Blackmore

Poem – Alone December 5, 2014

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1980s, Jade Blackmore, love poems, poetry, romantic poems, surreal.
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Alone

Physically defunct and alone
In Zimbabwe
Waving at English cameramen
While the government was being overthrown.
Alone with rain that crackles into a reincarnated frog in a clown suit.
Your diary hangs from the greasy beams,
Exposed like lunatics in rickshaws
And segregated hotel rooms.
How you sneaked into my room,
Not realizing that this was China
And we could cause World War III.
Alone raising bananas in an ant farm.
Alone being silly with divers in Kool-Aid waters.
Alone with naughty boy writing dirty words,
Alone in three different worlds at once,
Slithering like a baby eel in chicken soup.
Alone with boy in shorts between trailers.
Not the same as being with you.
Alone with 1943 Brooklyn Dodgers,
Play-off seen from beyond the embryo.
Alone with little red pajamas and frumpy cardigan-wearing friends from grade school.
Gurgling, belly-flopping fish that double as flashback hippies
Found me alone with filtering jazz in the back of the doughnut shop.
(Better with whipped cream than peanut butter.)
Alone with a baby born in Alaska, wrapped in Indian quilt
And facing future brainwashing.
Attack of the doorknobs: next reel on movie projector that scared me.
Museum wounds and transparent plaques without titles
That led me back to being alone
Under the baseball field lights,
Watching you,
Slippery and harmless as Betty Boop.

Copyright 1980, 2004 Jade Blackmore

Poem – A Charmed Life December 3, 2014

Posted by vscorpiozine in 1980s, Jade Blackmore, love poems, poetry, romantic poems, Veteran Poets.
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A Charmed Life

Rooster guts,
What the d.j. couldn’t say for fear of your lawyer.
A gold initial necklace,
A plateful of Frango mints,
A stake in my heart.
I the vampira,
You the princess
With sensual baby-fat thighs
And your computer exec Daddy
Framing a picture of you
In the Victorian suites of my longing.
I salivate in the alley,
Wrestling with a man wearing the skin of a jaundiced zebra.
You cavort on the hood of a Ferrari,
Seducing the camera eye,
A coy stripper,
A “Seventeen” magazine model beyond reproach.
You’d make any man forget his high school sweetheart.
Working behind the counter of a sandwich shop (garlic fingernails at 5.00 an hour),
I sing notes you’ll never comprehend.
Buried beneath a tombstone of transistorized basketballs, you squirm so elegantly
With a man I’ll never conquer.
I slithered along the tightrope.
I hissed at him.
He was a blue jean rebel turned sixteenth century genius.
Then he took you on a conjugal visit to Shreveport,
And now his name is obscured by your beauty.
You’re everybody’s little sister nude in the back of a limo,
Bitchy black eyes contradicting your apple-cheeked smile.
He saw his reflection in your face,
And now he makes love in a mirror
Every night.

Copyright 1981, 2004 Jade Blackmore