Saturday, September 29, 2007

I don't remember
when first we met,
it wasn't a hurricane,
just children at play.
I can't honestly recall
the first time we danced,
though I think we did.
It's been so long
since I saw your face.
It's more an idea
nowadays, anyways:
Waking dreams have me
back in your arms.
Your smiling face
says more this time
and I know it's not a lie
when you kiss me.

©Rivana 2008

er ... 2007 .. really!

Friday, September 21, 2007

A Joke

well, it's kind of a joke ... I mean, if it could be true .. then maybe it's not a joke, right?
So anyway ... two guys walk into a bar.. No, wait. That's not it. This is it:

Mommy asked her little girl what she would like for her birthday. The little girl, excited, says, "I want a Barbie Doll and a GI Joe." Mommy says, "No dear, Barbie comes with Ken, not GI Joe."
Little girl says, "No mommy, she comes with GI Joe. She fakes it with Ken."

Sorry all the Kens of the world. I thought it was funny.

Monday, September 03, 2007



I write with my right hand;
articulate and methodical
Ink weaves itself, like silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What's right feels wrong,
legible lines define
neatly drawn words
that fence in the honesty; truth
is confined like stallions
in orderly corrals.

Secrets never unleashed
sowed only in the unconscious,
as infertile seeds that release
prosaic verse, lacking passion...
desert sun-tinged sands,
dry and useless.

I use my left hand-these days,
speaking aloud thoughts
that never dared
to dance from my lips.

Prowling promises; as secrets
emerge, purging my past
of decadent pleasures,
sordid schemes seep
through crevices,
as unseen touches
that haunt in restless sleep.

Poetry surges;
across vacant pages-animated;
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

Elizabeth DiBenedetto - the poetprncess