Ink Stains

By James M. Piehl

Ink Stains is an artistic interpretation of the everyday modern world in New England where the author lives. Piehl tries to shine light on ordinary experiences with his imagery in his second collection of poetry. Central themes of loss and relationships are prevalent throughout this book. Piehl documents the world around him with creative and sometimes imaginative prose trying to find beauty that may be otherwise missed in the common. When the eye sees poetry in the average day the mundane seems exciting and fantastic. Escape into Ink Stains and find a world you may not have known you were a part.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503534094

James M. Piehl

James M. Piehl was born in Worcester, MA. This is his fi rst collection of poetry. He began compiling this in college while working on his BA in Journalism. He graduated from the University of Massachusetts. James is also involved in his community doing theatre. He is also avid in photography and painting.

Book preview

Four hours ’til dawn

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Something you will not know like I know

is your own breath

in these hours before dawn

Before the light is at the door

like an executioner

calling us to the gallows

Something you will not know

like I know

is the exit

and why I leave this way

we cannot explain

or how your arms will reject

any reunion

to expel the ache

of what we have learned together

Something you will not know

like I know

is how I held the stitches together

this long

knowing they would burst

on a day like today

Something you will not know

like I know

is it was over before we even got to here

Even before we agreed

tonight was the end of forever

forever

And something you will not know

like I know

is how I always desperately slip into the daylight

before you wake

praying for the strength

to keep walking away

Day breaks

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Stone capped angel

and a mushroom dance

sun bright with a devilish smile

That orange flame

flicker box

north of the forest

North of the border

between pain and the mountains

One giant white flurry

One more gust

One more good gust

And the shadows

The ever growing dark

The long length between

light and black

or this grey light

One more deadly flicker

of present and memory

One more goodnight

snuffed out

and day breaks like a lit cigarette

as she moves like smoke

Sun rises

Sun sets

Downy hair on a downy pillow

Good morning

becomes good night

Good night becomes

peek-a-boo with little hands

and the shadows hide like fame

in a death camp

My baby, my baby she cries

One tear

and the rain starts

One grey cloud

One dark

One empty

One day

black as night

Dawn

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My heart lay in a hospital

half a day away where my hands

could not hold

Here, the rain battered the bus window

and I wanted to bottle the lightning

like fire flies in a Summer field

Save it for an ordinary day

Keep it just out of reach

of the children

But here in the less ordinary

the rain beat my window

and the lightning showed nothing

more than a blue light on everything

And my heart was breaking

in those long blue lines

How long could I wait

and not feel like a coward anymore,

Without tearing myself in half again

How long could I wait?

I needed to see a fire in her eyes

to know it was still burning

because my light was slowly dying

as I was beaten all day

in front of