Those walls,
You know, the ones everyone talks about?
They're breaking.
They're breaking for a thousand reasons,
And every single one
Is your fault.

You're so untainted.
So innocent, so free of heartbreak
That it breaks my heart just to look at you.
I want to build my walls big enough for us both,
But you'll have none of it.

As fragile as the paper flower
That lays by my bed,
I am the fire that could destroy you.

And when you throw yourself,
Oh so trusting at my feet,
I don't know whether to envy your courage
Or laugh at your naivety.

All I know is I want.
Want you to take my breath away,
Tame me enough to touch.
Want you to come too close,
So we can burn together.

Purely my opinion
But I really have to say
I often don't understand it
And I just want to convey...
I feel lost in this world of "poetry"
Often floundering and splashing
In this ocean full of words
Against the rocks I feel I'm crashing
onto the beach that is the glossary of terms
A-Z my head I'm bashing
On the poems I often "heart"
Others I end up quietly trashing
Though I get a bit excited
when my lightning sign is flashing
That's when I start to think that maybe
poetry feels...
SMASHING!
:-)

Please tell me I'm not alone

I started growing
     measuring each incremental inch
     in the doorway frame
     grinning as it clearly showed
     a spurt.
Although my bones were aching
     I ran as fast as I could
     to the corner and back
     time and time again
Challenging my small young frame
     to ache
     and grow
And, oh, the pleasure
     of those growing aches
     as I leaped
     to push
     upward
     taller
     older.
Those aches felt so good!


lawrence j klumas
© july 2014

Familiar hands tease my throat
With japes and whistles
Like when we returned
The albatross
To it's nest and her children
Hatched violently
Forests in their eyes.
They are my hands and
The clock is heavy with guilt.
Long since he and I acquainted
He knows when I falter, when I ache.
The clock chimes out many times
Each and apology for raising
His hands and so he raised mine too
We match yet
He is guilty, the clock
And I am empty, the envelope
Sealed right with a kiss
A long hairy lick from a muscle
Wet with power and rage.
They are my hands but still
The clock feels guilty.

Talking on the phone
together, yet alone.
Hearing your voice
is nothing like
watching your lips move
seeing the look in your eyes
hearing you body talk
feeling your breath on my skin
I'm aching for your presence
and your voice on the phone
merely numbs the pain.

Whenever you are in my eyesight,
Whenever you're near me,
Whenever you make an unexpected appearance in my dreams,
Whenever you say something stupid,
Whenever you laugh at my corny jokes,
Whenever you do something adorable,
Whenever you touch me,
Whenever you just smile at me,
Whenever you fawn over your crush,
Whenever you frown,
Whenever you cry,
Whenever you do anything,

My heart  *aches

You stripped me
You beat me down to a body with only a screaming void; not even a heart.
You left me
I watched you leave, cutting my heart strings, one by one, every careless step you took.
You stripped me to just a body

An empty aching body.

i like the way
he smokes his cigarettes,
a puff of smoke
coming out of
his curved lips,
lips that
give me a wicked
smile before
walking away
without a word,
and i am left once
again, imagining
of seeing him again,
and gathering some
courage to tell him
everything,
but that courage
disappears everytime
he appears in front
of me, with another
lit cigarette, and
another wicked smile.