welcome to the page featuring the peotry of one Lesli Taubenberger. enjoy your stay in this particularlly wonderful part of my site :-D.

Lace
Autumn
And Lay Personified
Black Star
God's Softest Kiss
Idle
And he loved it

Lace. like a doll- fragile, and small... Delicate to an extreme; practically ethereal- the only child left behind after some forgotten war on some forgotten plain. Starved, and scarred, and pale from hiding in a darkness no one knew about, that one place where no one could rescue you. Tiny enough to be out of sight, just as easily out of mind. And this perfect silk, lay wrapped in these arms. She was virgin snow...whose eyes lit wide with every new grace and only the precious held within her tears, though no one heard a single cry, never sorrow nor lies could be taken from the experience. A blinding beauty whose glass slipper wouldn't dare crack and taint her fairest skin, as all the world would guard her slumber. Every first breath of every born child was for her and her alone. A dedication all but in vain, to lengthen her days and bring pleasantries of which the heavens knew they could never offer. The very sun broke this arrogant bleu to praise and glorify her so humble steps. The rain came at her whim and drew itself across the exotics of far off lands that she may never learn of, but if there was but chance she might someday see her gifts....whether through time or her next count of days; born to remember even less, to loose herself a little with each coming and going, and reincarnation would take its earthly toll with solemn virtue. -And the wind lay her guide before her, with hints on each wave of the sea, and each single grain of sand buried in the first days where the holy rest that bowed so long ago; each spiraling, galloping life; each ancient tongue spoken in secret of a queen, a child, an ultimate strength and innocence brought to this life.

Autumn (about missing faith)
what great days. Aside from the norm: insubordination, sloth, gluttony, and ultimately denial... my lips have been scorched and ripped through by the foreign winds of whichever misleading pike my father was drawn to; leaning on the curves enough to scar your knees; occasionally more.... the fall and desertion of this sun�s delicate, life bearing warmth is hollow... and barren...and lonely. Autumn is here; like a mourning ceremony scattering frail barriers between two worlds. �autumn; as if the entire place had left you behind to wallow in yourself, but you were always the one who left, and no one knew. And christmas comes, and the real you shines through long enough to smile and give thanks to something, someone you don�t know and lack the faith to try and make amends with. -we passed a quaint grave near sunset, and a stone under his angel with downcast eyes and hands that prayed over whom she so earnestly guarded... let there be an angel to watch over me with low, humble eyes, and pray for me and my soul. maybe if she shows mercy and branches her pity as roots of remorse through me- i, who so welcomingly reach like a child, as a child, to never know- i would never be alone, and maybe i could be forgiven for everything i don�t understand and could never even care enough to try to.

And lay personified
Silky and mute
Stemming barren,
Perfect, little tares;
Like spirit on a hot day...
Mere words,
Entwined deliciously
Under a voice.

A black star,
The morning star
Fallen from on high.

Quake and break,
Stem the wake,
Until they say goodbye.

Cradle her,
Euphoric slur
Calm there while we lie;

Question made
But you just stayed
To breathe only a sigh

God�s softest kiss

Shaken night skies
Of god�s softest kiss
Found bitter discourse
On the foulest of lips

But such pawns will fall
Force back what they may
Indifferent passions
No wiser than day

Dripping with prayers
Faith over-shown
Desire quivers solemn
But euphoria�s blow

His eyes still watch on
A new world to the touch
Wake trembles in blood
When embrace is too much

Idle
I like my fingers
I like my palms,
But sometimes they sweat,
And i�d like to freeze them �til they could break;
Be pale and perfect like his.
I like my ankles
I like my feet,
But sometimes they crave to curl into sand,
And i�d like to make them climb- never long for the sea;
Be fulfilled and grateful like his.
I like my ears
I like my mind,
But sometimes it scares me,
And i�d like to think only sweet and block out half the earth;
Have my thoughts untainted like his.
I like my lips
I like my voice,
But it never sounds the same to me,
And i�d like to give it wines and teas so rich;
My tongue spoke perfect prose like his.
I like my eyes
I like my lash,
But sometimes they blocks my view for this split second,
And i thank them; for
Idols are deception.

And he loved it. And i was overwhelmed. And i cried. My consolations were pure, and good, and simple. They didn�t burn my eyes like they had before. They were instead- salty. Like a kiss; a kiss on the back of the neck. The kind that lingers, and spreads, and last for days.

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