A Standing Love

To ‘love where one stands’ or love/show affection to another wholly without regard to timing or circumstance, is probably the most selfless act that one human can bestow upon another. It is higher than the art of self-sacrifice and rivals even the all-benevolent nature of empathy. Its origin undetectable and evolution a mystery; this ‘standing love’ adapts easily to its surroundings and gains strength in the most adverse of times. It exists without question or hesitation and can be generated infinitely or as long as existence allows. Once experienced, all other forms of love will fall short of this peculiar incident. This is not a slight to the former but simply a deserved homage to the latter. Therefore, I do not wish you ‘love’ alone, but ‘love where you stand’. No matter your past or present condition(s), I wish you someone waiting in your corner to embrace you fully, and I hope that you will strive to be that someone for another in return. You’re worth it, and so are they. 

 – Dorhora

Chomp…Chomp…Chomp on This

You want me to write as if
I am primitive bones rising from the ashes
Instead of a woman hurling towards death
I have never taken pleasure in the meat of fruit
Only the skin – it fascinates me to no end
Sometimes I eat it
The perfect and firm hull of what may just be
A rotten existence
How juicy red apple delicious is this poem
My rind has curling edges that refuse
Conformity once fondled
And penetrated
It is useless for blackboard education
School girl musings
And rote memories
I gave my wedding dress to my mother
For safekeeping
To keep safe from ink spills
And bloodshed – you know
Random things like that
For every crime
There is a culprit ready to break their shell
Peel back the layers
And rest among table grapes pristine green
And checkered table cloths on days with too much sun
This is my ideal stay of execution
And right about now
I am sure that you want to take a big bite out of my intellect
Chewing it into teeny tiny pieces
Until every stodgy bit is strained into a creamy mad mess
The toddler next door will take up my wit
And paint the kitchen walls
Pea green and marmalade orange
But I have come too far
And you have said too little
I am not cold black quartz
Nor soft gorilla fur
I cannot be that skin or this for you
I am too busy
Far too busy living
And spitting out pits
Slowly working my way
Out of time

© 2013. Dorhora. All rights reserved.

"Pomegranate 3." Photograph by Simon Blackley.

“Pomegranate 3.” Photograph by Simon Blackley.

The (God-Honest) State of My Nation

Dah-dah dum
Dah-dah dum
Dah-dah dum

Dah-dah dee
Dah-dah dee
Dah-dah dee

Dah-dah did
Dah-dah did
Dah-dah did

Make it plain
Distraction
has no value

Dah-dah do
Dah-dah do
Dah-dah do

I have less
than I want
And more
than I can keep

Dah-dah dum
Dah-dee
Dah-dah dee
Dah-did
Dah-dah did
Dah-dah do
Dah-dah do
Dah-dah do
Dah-dah do
………

©Dorhora. 2013. All rights reserved.

After the End, We Begin

Quiet Street, Anywhere
On a soft brown morning she will never
find again
With purposeful gesture lost in
the rhythmic flight of her soul

A closed red door listens to
and learns from

The ballad in this
Woman’s heart

There is nothing more than this
Though we may wait
There is nothing more than this
Though we may yearn
There is nothing more than this
There is nothing more than this
There is nothing more than this
Though we may wake

Breathe
Eat
and sleep again

We will begin to understand that
God has reason for everything
Under the suns

As beautiful as we are
Form and structure
Precision and grace
Strength and spirit
Hands folded
Body supple
Head bowed

And the flow that ebbs
In our rise

©Dorhora. 9-27-13. All rights reserved.