White Charcoal

olive911's picture


It’s funny, maybe even tragic,

Her hands are light, but her touch is darkness,

The cards played right, nearly to the point



After brown eyes, blue eyes are a let down  

And I, 

Gladly lie there. 


Horizon, is our own dead ending to cope with,

And it’s vital, maybe even meaningless,

That there are such things as white charcoal and erasable pens,

That soldiers fight with the best intentions

And the joker always has the wisest premonitions.

The wealthiest cities are refuge to the most homeless, 

Your body is warmest when the air is coldest

When poetry’s borders are faded, the wordplay is the boldest.

Did you ever think that maybe light is just a brighter shade of darkness?

doug.demaio's picture

You have a great voice. This

You have a great voice. This piece has so much going on but it's also very conscise. Great job. Keep it up.

We also tweet, fb, tumbl, & instagram! :)

olive911's picture

Doug! thank you so much! I

Doug! thank you so much! I believe you sent me an email and i'm sad to say it got lost in my gmail cyberspace. If your offer still stands It would be great to just send me a message so that I have your email again and can send you what I need Thank you!


"I you switch the letters 'i' and 'o' around in Olive, it reads i-love."
-The Twenty-Fifth Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Titania's picture

Love the Contrasts...

I love the contrasts in this poem--you're warmest when it's coldest, erasable ink, the wealthy and the homeless, structured and free poetry....it really gives it a great depth.

It was great meeting you at the anthology launch! Hope to see more from you soon!


An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all. ~Oscar Wilde