Thursday, February 19, 2009

Why Windows

Written February, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
----------------------------

Sometimes because it's nice
to know the weather

before having to go
outside.

Sometimes to watch the way
the seasons decide to change.

Sometimes simply
to inspire.

But sometimes because, when,
within my view of the window frame

a strong enough gust of wind
blows hard enough

seeming to make everything
in my immediate world move

I cannot help but to feel
that we are all connected.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

When I Hear Silence

for Cameron Isabella Collini
Written December, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-------------------------------------

When I hear silence
I think of what it might sound like
When constellations form

Or how it sounds to wake up
As the world is born.

At night
I hear silence
Between your every heart beat

That radiates love,
That radiates heat.

Your eyes in Winter
Have the heroism of Spring
Rebirth of the Family
With the birth of a baby girl.

When I hear silence
I hear what it means
to have the world created, and all at once
To create the world.

Summertime

Written 2005
Author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------------

there are books on shelves
with miles between them

with space for my ego to construct itself
just shy of a romantic

there are lines that divide
and run into one another

train tracks, or headlights
just missing each other

to what name do I give a rose
none but that which is its' own

romance

and myself just a spectator
between lines and chapters

sitting on shelves overlooking trains
just missing eachother



These Streets

Written July, 2006
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

the moonlight on 5th street
is blushing

because we just figured out
what it was trying to say

strung out from all those
tearful nights...

there are revolutions
in your eyes

with trails of light
that reach across your face

come le stelle charismatic.

the moonlight on 6th street
is drunk on the concrete

and cannot hide anything.
it snuck into the church on the corner,

through the stained glass,
and spilled out at our feet.

just above we were dancing
with the sense of touch

letting the politicians
talk about tomorrow.

whether or not
these moonlit streets come alive

we will move
with grace rather than sorrow.


Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Some Days In September

Written September, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

Some days in September
You call to catch the sunset

Down by the water.
You say that sitting by the river

Helps you forget
Where you came from,

Where you are going.
I remember the moon

Would sliver to the right
As does your smile

Under certain candlelight


Some days in September
We spend walking on the beach

As the tide goes out
So that when I kiss you

I cannot taste your tears.
We talk about those things

That change
Those that never die.

Oceans, rivers
Beneath sunsets

That look in your eyes.

Impoverished Dream

Written September, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
------------------------------

I know you said
I would meet her someday

But nothing breathes here
Accept the river.

That once impoverished dream
Reminds me of your eyes

And how they were once
Made of Gold,

But I cower, as fear
Does not leave as quietly

As it arrives.
Thoughts fall out of your mouth

Like words in a ransom letter,
Though I don't think you will get much.

'Tomorrows' sunrise will be herioc'
You say.

Todays' sun
Has been rising for years.

This evening I will dream of gold
And how to spend it

The way your lips felt
Whenever you pretended.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

A Chapter on Ghosts

Written February, 2008
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

This chapter of my life
is called 'What Once Was'.

I'm currently involved
With all of your ghosts

At such a level
That I know how the sun rises

As much as how it sets.
Have you ever had the dream

Where you are falling?
I see clouds

Though I'm not sure which way is up.
Every once in a while

I find things
Not where I left them

And I wonder
Why you are no longer around.

At night, your memories
creak and hum inside these walls

But they say that
It's just age.

Sometimes I don't look for things
When I misplace them

No matter what is
The cost

Though not always
Does nobody's value

Add up to
Nobody's loss.