Tintangel, England
Hypnotizing cool fire,
the Atlantic.
I stand,
a prisoner,
in the dungeon I expect,
but never find.
There are no bars, no guards
in the castle ruins --
walls,
hidden by grass a little
highter than my knee.
My soul --
held between
earth and stone.
Rock steps
encircle the cliff.
Tourists hike up
past a cafe.
A sign in the window reads
"For sale: Once in a Lifetime Opportunity"
Legend says
King Arthur was born here.
Nature's psychiatrist -
time -- heals...hides
the past.
Leaving,
I look back,
the ocean air
turning my heart
to salt.
Introduction to Venice
Motorboats and gondolasfloat on dull emerald canals.
Children mistake
red marble lions for horses
near the Basilica di San Marco.
Women sell "Venezia" sweat v shirts, men fashion
Venetian glass.
Rock music mixes with cathedral bells.
Assorted colors
of masks
of dress
of languages
expensive food
expensive clothes
expensive hotels
tired feet walking
pigeons flocking
hundreds of venders selling
a romanticized past.
Water splashing,
my heart
crashing every minute
we pass a locked door.
This adult amusement park setting
threatens to upsurge
our collective memory.
Still,
behind the beads, underneath
carnival garb lies
the truth
within the facade
of Venice.
Valerie Field
What Does True Love Feel Like?
Show me your pain under glass.Point to it,
like you would a germ,
under a microscope.
Divide love
down to atoms.
And ask me again
"What does true love feel like?"
Love, to you, must be
a diamond stud.
Classic and precious. Perfectly cut.
Made to glitter as it
twirls, twirls, twirls
around in a display case.
All the world should say
"that is true love."
Love, to me, is a watermelon.
It's hard on the outside.
It takes time to crack. But oh,
how sweet and wet once opened
and full of seeds to make more.
Only I have to say
"That is ture love."
I will show you my pain
open and free. Divide love,
if I must, down to
there is you
there is me.
"What does true love feel like?
You ask me as if it's a test.
When I'm with you
love is perfect logic,
it is emptiness.
Valerie Field
My Secret
you fear melike i'm cursed
fear my secret
my quiet
"she's not like us"
you comment after
i leave
what is it you fear?
that perhaps you're not worth
my words? i will listen to you
forever
but
who am i to be content
wtih my own company?
being silent and liking it
is a perversion
a social masterbation
still
quiet equal smart
because no one can prove otherwise
but it is a consolation prize
and silence equals shy
it equals my fear of you
listen
i will tell you my secret
when i am quiet
you see a reflection of yourself
in me
i am not the one cursed
Valerie Field
