Part Two

Let me paint you in words

Made from happiness spit from my fingertips 

Bursting Stitches Smiling 

As laughter lifts from my light lungs

And feels its way into the air, singing bliss

Verse after verse into a warm perfect evening

Outstretched arms greet my painting in gentle ease

Barely there

6/10/2014

Riley Welch

Sweet Summer

Feel the sun's warm finger tips push gently on your sweet eye lids,

Flickering. 

Blue

Yellow

White

Sunshiny,

Happy,

Seek the shade.

And feel the cooling sweat sticking to your back

And the breeze licking against the delicate hairs on the edge if your neck

Lay back-down, toes up. 

Smiling at the leaves lazy shade. 

Return to the fiery sun

And let it wrap you in its summer whisper

Dive into a creeks shallow bank

And bury yourself in the waters crashing cradle. 

Wrestling with the grass stains and street dirt. 

But then close your eyes and remember the

Blue

Yellow

White

Sunshine

6/10/2014

Riley Welch

In the Kitchen

As the soft steam lifted from the pots boiling mouth
The flames leaped to catch its metal edge
And inside the warmth cooked its sweet foods
To make a soft bite of warmth
Seasoned and plated so delicately
Set on a table, dressed in clothes and fine silvers
With light lit candles
And sweet small flowers
Decorative and inviting
For the presentation created by a burning flames work.

A Stab at Haikus

Work never felt so,
Long, boring, tedious, flat,
Just five more weeks left.

The length of a line
Is not chosen by letters
But by your breaths shape.

one two three four five
one two three four three two one
five four three two one

A cool calming pitch
Rings bright over a grand crowd
Who gathers for sound

Obvious

The metal patter of the rain,
Continuous.
The long streaks of splattered serum,
Continuous.
The droplets building to puddles,
Continuous.
The shatter of thunder,
And flashes of white light,
Staggered.
The crack of a branch,
Hits the ground top to base,
Random.
The endless winds push,
Continuous.
The break of the rain-
Of the wind-
Of the pitter patter-
Of the loud crashes and white heat-
The end or beginning-
Continuously.

5/24/2014-6/2/2014
Riley Welch

Under the Influence of Caffeine

A jittery heart rate.

With fingers attempting what is usually called steady,

Though they give an urgent twitch.

And your legs tap continuously,

As the heel lifts up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.                       

And you try to steady finger tips,

As they cradle the pen that pushes to paper,

A rolling ball of ink to spread

Your shaking words.

As your mind ticks from one.

Point.

To.

The.

Next.

Thinking faster than the words will sink to the paper,

Dying to be heard,

Immediately.

Too impatient for the slow pull of your jerking fingers.

Pushing out of your mind and into your hand.

Before you even know what you’ve thought.

And once it’s all been painted on

Ruled paper.

Your shaking palm pauses to push that last sip of morning coffee to your lips.

6/2/2014

Riley Welch

My Favorites

Sweet rhyming poems are my fallback,
I go to them when my alternatives crack,
When things just don't sound right,
And the words don't come together, bright.

I want all my words to shine, reflect,
Like they fit together perfectly correct.
So people say, "Yes, they go in that order,
Any other pattern creates chaotic disorder".

And when I can see it's not coming together,
I switch to rhyming, a different type of endeavor.
Making sure each line makes sense
and not sacrificing quality at any expense.

And words just sound pretty rhymed in pairs,
Like they belong without spares or repair.
And the rhythmic chanting of each line
Can be predicted by every end rhyme.

6/2/2014
Riley Welch