I tried to write about something other than you

But who would i write it to--I mean

I could write the sky blue

Stitch red petals to marigold rose centers

Wonderland winter white pages with similes & metaphors

But who would I write it for?

I could sneak bleak tears into poetry

Mushrooming out of my moldy history

But that would be his story

I could write a man-bashing poem

An anthem--if you will--of past hurt and audacity

About n!gg@s harassing me

That would leave some brothers mad at me

And the sisters clapping

Gladly

Or I could raise my fist and praise the black in me

With an "I'm black & I'm proud!" speech

Rage at the Man--See

I could write a lusty one mic stand

Threading inuendos past my lips and

Drip decadent seduction from my fingertips

Wrapping my mouth around the words of your thick d!c-

Tionary

Or I could grapple with my Thesarus and simply write for the sake of vocabulary

Traffick-jamming words together to form an "Accidental Masterpiece"

I could do it easily

I could do it in my sleep

With my non-dominant hand

Blindfolded and writing with a 1 inch crayon

And only you would actually laugh and ask:

"What the hell?"

What I'm trying to tell you is

In the end when words sneak up on me

And break into my poetry

I oculd write about anything

Anything

And it would mean less to me

If it doesn't mean anything

To you

I tried to write about something other than y ou

But I've come to realize as I write more

That you're the only person I'm writing for

So, even my tree poems are a metaphor

by sondi for roguepoet 2007 (c)

my vulnerability revealed

in custom measures our matchless puzzled futures

connect and bind tellingly

unified halves whole

seared

& welded

one

memorable yesterday

earlier this morning when the sun arose

i saw you six oclock fresh and

managed another day

existence hinged upon yours

i am vulnerable

(c) sondi for roguepoet 2006

did you ever know

i write only

because

and when

i know your

eyes will take my page

and love it

you are

the reason words knit themselves

from my fingers into

crochet patterns of emotion

for you to wear me

in your thoughts hours

later and later

and

later

if you like

i will write for you

the way we never

well, rarely

have

do you have a pen?

(c) sondi for roguepoet 2006