A true hero doesn’t know they’re the hero.
A true villain knows they’re the villain.
The innocent think they are guilty.
The guilty know they are guilty.
The truth-tellers fear liars.
Liars fear the truth-tellers.
No Contact
It had been years.
Long years.
So I wont lie.
I swear,
in that final moment we shared:
I lived a thousand lives,
a hundred thousand,
a hundred, hundred thousand.
And there,
I knew all the faces and forms
of what our love could have been–
powerful love
whole love
infinite love.
But the moment ended
And the path was set
where I would not see you,
nor know our love
in any other shape but
sorrow
-Cpontrella 2017
Smorgasbord
That night,
I remember it so clearly.
our appetites were enormous
Creamy words, earthy laughter,
Sweet, small glances
stolen when no one was looking
for our own
private delight.
It was a smorgasbord
and I felt bottomless.
Insatiable.
then, the Lovemaking.
A final course, the night-cap.
phenomenal.
How else could I describe it?
Intoxicating.
Lyrical.
Animal.
Raw.
Sublime.
There are no words.
I have been hungry every since.
-Cpontrella 2017
How much?
How much do you miss
By paying attention
How much do you lose
By finding what you are looking for?
-C. Pontrella
2017.06.01
Our First Apartment
An iron-barred
plant-laden window,
guarded by the Buddha,
gating out the world.
Cold sunlight
on warm wooden floors
scratched up by a table
built for building a community
together.
Teacups.
Boardgames.
Blankets from your sister.
Books.
So many books
color coded and marked up,
separating you from me and here from
there
and
A couch you hated, and
the art.
Bay windows and
the bedroom walls
soaked with words
from whispered conversations
that drew us
deep
into the night and
into each other.
I didn’t realize it,
when we first moved in.
I swear,
It didn’t look like a battleground.
2011.10.24 The Mind
Think how disordered the mind has to be to work.
Unlike a machine,
it can join up the most unlikely strands
and weave them into one idea
Personal Poetry – Caitlin Pontrella
07.20.2011
Our city
and
their city
exist one inside the other
but they are not the same city.
we may share a name
but we do not share the same vision.
personal poetry – caitlin pontrella
2008.04.07
You can not change the past,
but you can make what happened
insignificant.
Personal Poetry – Caitlin Pontrella