She gave me gloves.
Shahil Sharma
Shahil Sharma
Jan 11      Jan 12

She gave me gloves.
Sapphire lets call her
I loved how she would
roll her eyes close
whenever i swore louder
or when i-
being in the mood
of being an arrogant snob
Told me to be, mean
and so vicious

But Lady Sapphire is kind as the
depth of the ocean and nice
as the sugar and spice
of a confused fangirl,
Who i believe
is precious as the rock
i name her from

This house is burning straight to the ground
And all you can think about
Is that you're "cold now that all the sweaters are destroyed"
"But the embers look beautiful floating by my face."
I guess you took a few too many pills,
And I didn't take quite enough.
It wasn't the flames of justice that engulfed our house.
But it doesn't really matter.
Because that house was not a home.
A home is where I live with someone I love.
So that house was not a home.
Because I didn't love you.
I loved your hips and you tits.
I fucked you and you made me drinks when I got back from work.
I never loved you.
I started the fucking fire to get a rise out of you.
You still don't care.
At least I made you fucking shiver a little.
Like that counts for shit.

too large, fit for the rabbit,

slipping silk, no hand to hold,

while waving slide off.





you think they will have thought of pins

just now.

all that tapping,

makes a soul happy.



benefits are few these days,

make the most of those

that live in huts.



believe  that the earth loves us.

©sbm

Grandma bought me red gloves
Molly Stuart
Molly Stuart
Oct 21, 2011

Grandma bought me red gloves
To keep my hands warm
They sit next to me patiently
Waiting to be worn.

There's nothing genius to be said
Just feelings at random in my head
Rhymes that make no sense
To be manipulated into thoughts

Meter, pattern, tone
I can't keep a steady poem
I can't keep a steady feeling
My chest aching when I'm alone

Diving deep through the essence blue
To see the method to my madness
The feelings I've hidden from you
What is this thing that keeps me hiding?

I'm OK, I'm ALRIGHT
Or I will be with you here tonight
Alone I'm a sleepless, dreaming fright
Too scared to sleep, to scared to turn off the light

See Holmes
See Holmes
Nov 24, 2012      Nov 24, 2012

the swirls and swirls
of velvet fine gowns
couldn't pull my eyes
from the practiced smile
atop your red bow tie.

you slide and slide
across the room
as if on a fine film
of maker's mark
and captain jack

your hands on hands
of every esteemed
and eligible maiden
(you know your
parents will approve)

I'd rather run and run and run and run.

Amethyst
Amethyst
Dec 18, 2013

after we met,
flowers started growing
out of my hands.
my fingers stayed warm
under the patch of
yellow roses and daisies
you planted.
thorns defended my words
against harsh winds,
but no need to worry-
you always carry
a pair of hedge-cutters.

this is for a friend so any advice before i give it to her would be appreciated
These are the gLoves
Paul Goring
Feb 5, 2011

My first gLove
Lost on the bus
Absentmindedly
Or In the street
Parted in the snow

My stolen gLove
Taken whilst my back
Was turned

My fleeting gLove
Impaled by a stranger
In the street
On a spike
For all to see

My forgotten gLove
Left lonely
For too long

My worn out gLove
Threadbare
From years of absent
Emotion

My Christmas gLove
Ill fitting but warm
And worn
For a day

My lost summer
Lost summer
Lost summer gLove
Didn’t make the suitcase
Home

My gLove for life
Soft yielding
And strong

These are the gLoves
I have loved and lost

Copyright - Paul Goring 2011
gloves with a the christmas
brooke
brooke
Nov 24, 2013

I walked out
along the river
today and thought
about the time I tried
to make you wear red
gloves with a the christmas
deer on them, I should have
never tried to make you wear
the red gloves with the christmas
deer.

(c) Brooke Otto 2013
Your finger-less gloves that serve no actual purpose
Jenna Ring
Jenna Ring
Jan 10, 2013      Jan 11, 2013

I hate the smell of winter.
You are last winter.
The dirty snow that consumes the ground
the crisp air
my cracking skin
my broken sanity.
You are the last winter because
we, will never have another winter.
Boston,
You are a February night in Boston.
We are the small book store on Newbury Street.
Your finger-less gloves that serve no actual purpose
blue eyes that never learned to tell the truth.
Your lips are so lovely though they only speak the
words of a coward.
Just like the coliseum I've been through a lot, I've got some wounds but I
have not fallen apart.
You made me a little more fragile but I will not crack
I'm not that delicate.
You are now who you will always be to me
last winter.

Jeremy Ducane
Aug 15, 2010

He moves them forward so sensitively.
Palms spread: firmly gently, shielding ushering
To the front
Each small dark group with grieving wreathes.

As they advance he swings behind another
-Almost jaunty light he moves -
Till time is right, and then again
They go to place against the stone

More flowers.

c Jeremy Ducane 2010
 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment