Paperweight Poetry

My heart is made of thread Woven into a loving life So I was surprised when you appeared and said That you just happened to be a knife.  -anna sluder 

I found you in the closet of my soul, Sitting timidly in the corner, so I never assumed, That when you never asked to be made full, You wouldn't mind that I took up all the room.   - anna sluder 

Rivers run blue like the sky When we are loving and kind And rivers run red thereby When hate is all that we can find.  -anna sluder 

Seven men are shooting To make the mourner more at ease  But gunshots do not bring More than more people to lay in carved trees  As if gunshots from each man thrice Could make you forget that the dead  Instead of wedding rice  Is having soil tossed upon his head  The sound of gunshots do not bend The detriment in feelings of pain They rip the wounds instead of mend  And make you wish it is you in the death box lain.   -anna sluder 

The natatory sky shatters and shakes, seizes and splits  For there is nothing in that brackish watery sky  That ever lets out or lets in any light Besides only a nefarious flash of it being electrified  The oyster sky of grey shadows over its light Buoyant is this lighthouse hidden behind So in order to rescue the paper boat clouds from blight  There must be a light through which the brine they can find  To not shred their paper sails in the wind  Or to wreck the paper boat clouds upon shadows grey So thunder must crack the oceanic sky, fissure, and skin  For light of the house to blink out for the compass to say  Oh come oh skies of thunderous grey  Rift and cleft the watery sky's foam For cracks let the light out to lead the way  And will guide our paper boat clouds inevitably home.  -anna sluder 

If the sky is an oyster shell    Dawn proves something's inside   When the sun rises up from its sleeping spell   We find it is the sun that is its pearl.  -anna sluder 

Beloved do not be afraid  To show me your hands For I have scars too Bloody marks of the world's demands And scars are more than battle wounds  They are dark and mangled like soil since  Darling they are where the flowers bloom.  -anna sluder 

To Love An ode A champagne toast To Thee  That wretched mongrel  Who tears it's teeth into the left breast To Love The unyielding contract I sign my soul to  The branding autograph on my heart To Love  The reckless tyrant of my heartbeat Dictator to the town in my chest To Love  Who I must be a burnt sacrifice for  The one who demands me to leap off a cliff for To Love Who pulverizes me then mends me The ambivalent paradox To Love  Who sets me on fire But if I am able to receive  Even an iota of this flaming love It would then be a pleasure  To burn for .  -anna sluder 

To love you  Is to love the earth The clods of red clay and blossoms of pink To love you  Is to love the universe And it's nebular orbs of galactic dust To love you  Is to love life And it's ambivalent wonder of ache and beauty To love you Is to love love It's desperate measures of feverish passion and tenderness  To love you Is to love infinity Because it is all that you are and more . -anna sluder 

Patient is the sky to hold its pain,   To squeeze and clasp it all inside,   Until it lets it fall out in the shape of rain,   When it finds that the watery ache won't go dry.              -anna sluder 

she is stuck behind the lens   taking photographs of women and men   them never realizing that she too is human    and doesn't have to stand behind with a want   for she  is beautiful enough to come around the lens to the front.   -anna sluder

There is a girl hidden beneath her curls Smiling behind her strawberry blonde curtain Watching and waiting in this world For someone to tell her when she can come out for certain.  -anna sluder 

There is a quivering road before us, Too ambivalent to tell us which way to go, It wrung it's hands, too afraid to discuss, Which of the two paths to take in the fork in the road.  -anna sluder 

How the blue sky seems so thin, As if the world could be folded in, Or to have written a love letter upon to admire,  Or only a piece of paper to be set on fire.  -anna sluder 

When they say to write your story before it's written for you,   I know the ache of not using my words or colors to sketch my life in full,   Never being able to autograph my life the way that I want to,   When the path of my soul is drawn in with another's pencil. -anna sluder