The Sweet Smell

The sweet smell fills the room leaving an aftertaste
I inhale it's presence with intensions of intoxication
Wondering how the rest of it would TASTE in slow and gentle consumption.

The sound sweeps the quiet in this room
I filter it with intentions of reproduction
Wondering how the rest of it would SOUND in whispers of seduction

The warmth heats my skin like the transition from a cold room into the sun.
I devour the feeling with intensions of innocent corruption
Wondering how the rest of it would FEEL in smooth and tight contraction

The presence embodies the space
My vision captures it with intentions
of rendition.
Wondering how the rest of it would MOVE in spontaneous position.


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kaleidoscope Eyes

He had kind eyes, that's what did it for me. I could tell he looked at the world from the inside out. His gaze acted like a boomerang, projecting intentions while collecting information tainted with his own perceptions and opinions. I'm certain they were kind. I wondered if I had looked directly into them, would it have been like looking into a kaleidoscope. You know, like in the Beatles song. I write about him as though he no longer exist; it's just as so, I'm positive I'll never see him again. All I have is a picture I took that day as my eyes casted their own boomerang. They collected an image depicting a man with kind kaleidoscope eyes. A gentile face imprinted with a smile now ridged, paralyzed, translucent, with less detail from the moment I took it. I wonder how long it will take the image to fade or be replaced by another captivating face.


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Inner Workings of my Mind

Tongue painting colors too bright to digest.
Truths depicted that would otherwise mix into rotten ideas on the walls of my head.
Swirling around in debate as to whether or not play dead or fly like a moth to a flame attached to the sun.
Landing in a pile of ash from the heat of judgment lay the aftermath of my best secrets kept worst.
Realizing the swirling debate is...
Best kept "in the inner workings of my mind"
(C) Elizabeth Zsamboki


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Memories

Memories are tucked away in tiny boxes in our minds, some collecting dust, while others never given the chance. Make the ones you open be those that make you smile not keep you in the past, or you will be the one collecting dust and never giving life a chance.


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I'd Like To Know

Id like to know...
Is it because you see yourself in the reflection of my eyes?
Is it because you hear yourself in the echo of my questions?
Is it because you feel free in the gap that I've allowed?
Is it because my hands are wet from your tears?
Do you wait for me only to feel yourself walking?
Do you look for me only to find yourself?
Do you touch me only to pay the toll to keep me coming back?
Do you smile because I can't stop mine from forming?
I'd like to think it's the color and shape of my eyes.
I'd like to think it's the sound and inflection of my voice
I'd like to think it's the strength of my independence
I'd like to think it's the gentleness of my heart.
I'd like to think it's my smile, laugh, and character.
I'd like to think it's all of me you're finding.
I'd like to think it's my warmth your wanting.
I'd like to hope you'll be the one that's asking.
I'd like to hope you'll be the one that's reaching.
I'd like to hope you'll find me after you've swallowed all of who you are
I'd like to hope you'll have an appetite and I am what it's craving.
For once I'd like to KNOW...


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Beautiful Contradiction

Drowning in the fears of others.
Negativity grasping at my ankles,
pulling my spirits into a corner.
Inundated with questions, demands, and accusations.
Reaching for answers to questions
prematurely plastered.
It is my happiness Im after, not fulfilling dreams casted on by others.
Am I mistaken to follow the golden rule of loving unconditionally without regret and expectations?
I chose to drown in faith, hope, and courage.
In his grace, I ask for the strength to help us emerge with beautiful contradiction.


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The Moon

Although you are always there, translucent blending in with the baby-blue light
The sun, blinding all the beauty of the night
I wait for you in anticipation as the sun dips behind the ridge, surrendering the sky
I witness the twinkles beginning to reveal as though waiting for your permission to appear.
I watch as your glow gently illuminates the dark sky
Gazing as though believing in it I will see the shape of your eyes
Convinced that the beauty of it's light reflects from the center of your disguise.
(C) Elizabeth Zsamboki

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Shhh

And the absence came abruptly like a slamming door in the quiet stillness of the early morning, startling my heart into a panic, until slowly comforting itself back to a peaceful beat. ~Elizabeth Zsamboki

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Another Storm

Rolling in like an Indian summer

Just when I was getting sick of the cold

Warm words of interest and intrigue

Curious of my quiet life I’ve come to keep

Maintained neat, with space only enough for me to breath.

Familiarity prying my doors shut, preparing for the storm

Eyes and ears sending warnings to my heart

Ignoring them, standing on the edge, holding on to anticipation and regret

Wondering on which side I’ll benefit.

Shorter and shorter they seem to last. Maybe less affecting is the glass

Penetrating my inner mind…the Indian summer…what a disguise

Slowly descending into what I anticipated with nothing to regret.

Crystal Blue and Honey Gazes

Crystal blue and Honey gazes

Meeting in the middle, never merging, forever searching for juvenile nostalgic innocence.

No longer seeing further than what it only ever was.

Separated by growth-spurts of the mind and spirit,

Always wanting more than what it’ll ever be.

The heart never given the chance to catch up and beat as one.

Fuse and allow the Blue and Honey gaze to penetrate the hurdle of what will always separate.  

©Elizabeth Zsamboki 

Untitled

I was shot today

By a boy with bullets for teeth,

they flew at me in slow-motion.

I sat there and let them hit me.

I concentrated on the frost in his words,

the deviance in his mouth,

the arrogance in his delivery,

the bullets penetrated my chest and buried themselves in my heart.

The heaviness pushed my spirits down,

decapitated my worth as I braced for his next round.

©Elizabeth Zsamboki  

I Gave

I gave you my hand, open-faced extended,

placed it softly on your chest.

You folded each individual finger into a closed fist,

returned it firmly and placed it lightly on my ribs.

I gave you my lips, passionately pressed,

on your bottom pouting kiss.

You blew them earnestly away without ingest.

I gave you my words.

Like rocks hitting sheets of armor,

they bounced off your cheeks profile.

I gave you my soul’s dreams, secrets, solved enigmas.

You danced around them with clever steps of avoidance,

swaying in confusion.

I gave you my heart…all of its passion, strength, and affection.

You returned it on a platter, pins and needles stitching notes of refusal and neglect.

I gave you my back, with all of its frost and demise of what could have been.

Footprints lead away in blundering position.

I gave you my life

You gave me regret.

© Elizabeth Zsamboki   

The In-between

Lost in the in-between 

Arms stretching, reaching,

extending toward you and me 

Neither holding or grasping 

Lightly brushing Your fingertips

MY...Momentary bliss 

Misconstrued connection

moments lost in translation 

Stuck in the in between of you and me 

Realizing I'm only "standing on the edge of your world" 

looking to find myself in the brushing tips of momentary bliss, 

found in the in-between. 

Elizabeth Zsamboki 

Art That Is You

You are are beautiful in all your mess, in all the grit and grim from life

you are beautiful in your muddy bloody shoes, saturated from your travels

you are beautiful in your tears mixed with dirt you've been dragged in along your ride

you are beautiful in your mouth full of smoke from your cigarettes, that carry secrets from locked boxes in your chest.

you are beautiful in the scabs on your knees, developed from the many pleads, to your God, wherever he may be.

you are beautiful in your song of things that came, left, and were let go.

you are beautiful in the momentary glisten, that appears in the center of your eye, as you dream of a better life.

you are beautiful in your desperate reach to be stronger

your are beautiful in your fickle yet surprising way of showing love.

your are beautiful in your silly, whit, and charm

you are beautiful in where you came, in where you are, in where you are going, and in where you will be.

you are beautiful in your skin

in your shell

in your depth

you are beautiful in your...

Art That Is You.

Continuous Capture

Life seems to be like a camera, continuously capturing moments along the way, I choose to develop and store beautiful images, simply learning from the unflattering on how to master finding the right angle.

(c)Elizabeth Zsamboki

Quiet Moments

It's in the quiet moments of my day when I remember the little things, they brush up behind me like an unexpected breeze that never lasts long enough. (c) Elizabeth Zsamboki

Landing Where I've Landed

wallowing in endless conclusions
rewinding reels of archives, depicting retained conversations
playing in slow motion
dissecting every word and wrong I could have said
numerous mistakes along the way, intertwining reasons worth defending
creating a script that I've printed in my head
anxiously needing to scream it, remove it, push it along my breath
translate it until you understand, accept, and believe
any harm to you I did not mean
My fingers felt yours slipping, fear of dropping, falling, landing
where I've landed.
believing there's less damage with a warning
wallowing in endless conclusions
rewinding reels of archives, changing, reinventing conversations
altering the ending depicting me landing where you've landed
©Elizabeth Zsamboki

The Wind

She moves, pushes, gently brushing aggression
Invisible strength and grace lowering
Bending the trees to their limits

Sudden attacks demanding attention

She rips their roots and tumbles the weeds
Interrupting the quiet gathering of leaves
Frightening them into a twisted scurry

Breathing uneven rhythm of heaves

Irritatingly nudging litter down the street bearing against the gutter
Burst of air filling bags of plastic inspiring them to dance
Until whimsically inflating up in flight

Pushing and dropping with all her might

Her soft breeze brushes my hair interrupting my busy mind
Others without warning and involving all her capacity
She comes at me with her heavy hand wakes me from my deepest thoughts
Forcing me to close my eyes as she swallows all their moisture

Vindictively challenging my posture

I watch her from the protected side of the pane
Listening to her howling definition of passion
Laced with her invisible power convincing the earth that she‘s alive and moving
A declaration only lucid, believed, and understood
While standing on the other side of the Pain

Only from the inside can one appreciate her beauty that will sustain

©Elizabeth Zsamboki

Winters Wind

He rode in on a winter's wind
The warmth in his smile carried the sun
It glistened in his eyes and warmed my skin
His voice echoed inside my head as it left his lips
Stirring up vivid images of how they’d feel on mine
He road in on a winter’s wind
Drifted just before the bloom of spring
Leaving behind secrets that I’ve planted in the soil of my memory
Allowing it to grow bittersweet memories that only I can smell
I wish for the cold wind to blow again and carry me with it
Take me as it warms me with the light of his smile
©Elizabeth Zsamboki Feb. 2011

All That Is You

Deep inhale
Of all that is you
Holding, slowly releasing
Diminish the need to replenish
Breathe again the smell
Of all that is you
Exposing the tops of my lids
Eyes dancing along the backs
Scanning the blue paint
Of all that is you
Lips quivering a broken imitating smile
Of all that is you
Memories projecting silent movies
I’ve lost the sound
Of all that is you
Hands moving underneath my sleeve
Across my face
Following the tracks
Of all that is you
© Elizabeth Zsamboki