FlowersView OnlineRarishy PoemsFlowerssummer warmth melting inside me a wax frame and mind barely able to hoist and stand, struts to support the weight of a heart like this. sweet, sugary blood hypnotic filling up and spilling over, led from their chambers to tear ducts rotten and salty. a daily routine. the pleasure then the pain. a single wax figure the flowers outside were blooming sweet, sugary hypnotic the flowers inside were still waiting. still waiting for something else I'm no gardener, my love, and my pail is empty of water but I have a lot of time on my hooves and more than enough blood left to give. You will bloom, in time. You will bloom. Un con ditionally.
TattersView OnlineRarishy PoemsTattersIt was plain to see, her dress was in tatters. The tailor couldn't abide. "A sight! A sight! No, this won't do!" with a shake of head and neat little sigh examining stitches that failed. so the tailor left the girl, searching for her needles, rummaging through drawers for the string to feed through the eye to save the dress. and the girl waited thinking thoughts of leaving, wanting not to disturb. With a hoof grasping folds of fabric strung across the girl's frame, she guided the needle guided the string to mend the holes in the embroidery. The dress fit tighter, more comfortable but no less tattered: The buttons on the front were missing! so the tailor left the girl, digging through her bits and bobs to find the perfect fit to affix through string, through needle eye and mended fabric, to save the dress. and the girl waited thinking thoughts of leaving, wanting not to disturb. The glow of horn cast the shadow of buttons held in place sitting neatly in line attached there to replace. The dress was more glamorous, neatly accessorized, but still tattered as before. The side was a disaster! The fabric was gone too much just to resew... so the tailor left the girl, searching for the silk that would finish the piece in turn through rolls and drawers and forgotten old covers nothing left would fit but the clothes on her back. So she tore the skirt that held the fabric that fit the silk that made the dress that needed to be saved. and the girl looked on, mouthing only Stop! but the sound never came out. The silken shapes drifted in place to form invisible lines, join pieces old and new, wounded since beginning of time more string, more sew more sweat on the brow and tears in her skirt but the dress was finally done. so the tailor stepped back and admired her work, the beauty that she had fostered. As grand as it was, the girl just looked on at the tattered mess she caused.
TattersView OnlineRarishy PoemsTattersDigging through bins and old pieces of scrap the girl reached for corsage. Bit and bobs, odds and ends all the missing pieces piled on a table right there next to her. The girl had some skill for threading the needle, but never as much as the tailor. Still, she pushed on with hoof and wing and fabric miscellanea laid across model form poked together, multicolored thread and zig zag patterns polka dot and clear. It took some time and even more work to assemble the pieces of the skirt, together in one. Beautiful, sort of. Folded, neatly in a small box wrapped in colored paper alongside a note for the tailor. "I'm sorry that it's a little mis-matched but at least it's not so tattered. If you open your heart, I think you might find this skirt is a little like me."
Morning Love SongView OnlineRarishy PoemsMorning Love SongSun shine ing through window frame window pane warming grey ing fur dancing about and summoning forth lucidity, eyelids to wake. the clouds have parted the fog, the sweet smell the sweet smell ing fog has parted has given way to a clarity. an empty clarity. it's morn ing now. there's an in dentation in the sheet where you once were but are no longer. an empty, empty clarity: i'll still be fine
FlyingView OnlineRarishy PoemsFlyingWhen Rainbow Dash talks about the feeling of flying she says that she feels free. The wind on her wings makes her feel strong and she forgets what it's like to be weak. It gives her meaning and purpose it opens her eyes and billows her heart stops whatever it is that's meek. If she's right then I don't fly when I'm spreading my wings up there. I drown and freeze I drift about. I stay and struggle for air. The sky's not for me, but I'm not so sad 'cause I can still fly when ever I'm with you.
SewingView OnlineRarishy PoemsSewingAs I pass the needle ready the stitch for that extra little touch you bring your eyes catch the light and shine in that way that makes me lose my mind the smile you have when looking at me I can't see anything else. You understand, I hope, why I was distracted the moment I pricked your wing. You giggled and said it didn't hurt but I could kiss it better if I wanted. I got a bandage from the cupboard but you said it was alright, and the bleeding had already stopped. I got a glass of water from the kitchen, you said you were feeling fine. I got a lot of thoughts tangled in my brain, but some like to surface at points. I should have felt worse when I realized the truth, you're doomed to me forevermore.
untitledView OnlineRarishy PoemsuntitledI was scared again today. I was scared still, when I came home. One of the chameleons got old. and You know what happens when animals get old. You know what happens I was scared. I was sad. I was feeling a lot of things that I think I'm still feeling. Will still be feeling. but when I got back you were there. I didn't say a word, you didn't give me the chance. You hugged me and kissed me and told me you love me. and it hurt a little less bad. you said you wanted to Get old. together. I suppose it's not as bad if we're doing it together.
