wingedpiglets

[wingedpiglets]

spring

the Sun's warm caress lingers; the ice thaws & the rivers soften and sway beneath Her gaze. congregations of bluebirds and swallows swell in boisterous hymns. the upturned palms of green leaf buds curl in praise. the Earth slowly exhales the long-held breath of winter, and all the world is in worship.

[wingedpiglets]

“I was the ocean and she was the moon; pulling me in and pushing me away.”

— Annie Munro, you and i are somewhere between the tides

[wingedpiglets]

winter's kiss

the skin is chapped between your knuckles, which crack and bleed when you close your fist. you won’t wear gloves, you won’t wear mittens; you say you love the winter’s kiss.

when the rest of the world is hidden underneath the frosty snow and ice, you stand outside with your mouth wide open and tilt your head up towards the sky.

though your hands and legs are red and numb and the snow and sleet begin to fall you won’t come in until you’re frozen, until you cannot feel at all.

[wingedpiglets]

Pink Thread

you wrapped your finger around the loose thread and pulled until it broke; an unconscious habit. hurriedly, you shoved it into the armrest of my car on your way out for the last time. the hemmed end of your shirt left frayed and blowing in the wind as you walked away; a quiet ghost of what was, before its innards were pulled out.

weeks fall away and it still sits there: the small ball of pink thread-- the last fragment of you.

[wingedpiglets]

You're a good poetess! Thanks for writing and sharing poems. I hope Armenia flourishes again and that you're having a good day. Peace! ❤

oh wow, thanks! and thank you for reading my poems! i haven’t written poetry or posted to this blog in a while, and this really made me smile. I hope Armenia flourishes, too ❤️❤️ lots of love to you, anon. 

[wingedpiglets]

in the fertile womb, the embryo awaits rain: to soften   the protective exterior coat sheds, and roots reach into the humus: anchored the small seed pushes head first through the expansive: the bloodless birth of the white flower.

The Coming of Spring // a.s.m

[wingedpiglets]

collage poem ft. a piece of my hair 

[wingedpiglets]

where was I when I existed inviting forever into meaning when had I been  when my mind  held a cargo of flowers 

[wingedpiglets]

the incident delineates the future framework  standing where i was when i had been preserved  temporal  larger in mind than of life  creature of precision,  i held my end on a  runway 

[wingedpiglets]

Walls

the walls of the old city practice nonviolence can walls chase?  they bend to me with longing and I to them did I dream those graffitied walls?  herded along by  the unstoppable force of Manhattan streets away from my grandmother’s pale limestone why did she ever leave?  the walled garden in the Armenian  quarters, away from that olive tree is this home?  i am drowning in this fondue pot,  in this salad bowl what are they calling it these days?  barely keeping my head above all this cheese, melting into consumption  how do you  find yourself in nothing?  the rascal children of Gaza can’t find me are you still  looking?  please let them know i am not running away i just can’t find me either. 

[wingedpiglets]

[wingedpiglets]

[wingedpiglets]

[wingedpiglets]

ether a dream a memory from a life lived or living  maybe mine maybe someone else’s sleepy sun, still waking, weaving between blades  of thick Iowa grass yellowing and resolute worshipping their golden  god.  eternal beds canopied with iron gates glorious even in decaying.

a cemetary in Iowa // a.s.m 

[wingedpiglets]

կերասի շրթունքներ  վարդագույնի այտեր նուշի աչքեր աշխարհի ամենավաղ պարարտ այգի ես դուն:  cherry lips rosy cheeks almond eyes: you are the earth’s most fertile garden.

garden of earthly delights // a.s.m

[wingedpiglets]

and when you rain, rain with grace bring growth not destruction

how to release your storms // a.s.m 

[wingedpiglets]

oh, the way they lie through glass lenses for dollar signs  it isn’t true love unless you apologize  show me something real where the love hurts like i do i don’t want fake tears i want passion that burns  lovers to the ground and dwindles down  and they emerge like phoenixes from the dust.

the movies lie // a.s.m