He smelt like smoke
as he leaned away from me,
texting himself with my phone.
We left the campfire outside,
in our shoes by the door
our socks overlapped in a tangle of limbs.
In that leftover guest room,
on the bottom bunk of the microwaved bed,
I remembered why I thought I knew what love was.
He was tired and needed a nap,
I was restless and cold.
Trapped inside because of violent temperate rainstorms.
This boy owed me stubbed toes,
thorn pricks through my jeans,
nicknames and rubber soles.
This was the boy who had always smelt of smoke,
who knocked over dead trees for me,
who lied about being able to rock climb.
This was the boy who went swimming in the ocean
before summer had properly began
when it was still much too chilly.
I taught him a new card game,
he beat me at badminton.
We played capture the flag and threw pinecones.
We sold cookies on the side of the road,
ate dusty blackberries,
traded innuendos and bad jokes.
This was sea-urchin boy,
slug boy,
the boy with the bird's nest hair.
This boy grew taller,
dropped his voice like a used bus pass,
looked past the top of my head.
He laughed when i stepped in a mud puddle,
dared me to walk in bare feet.
This boy suddenly went mountain biking.
I talked extra loud, in hopes that he would overhear me,
offered him rootbeer straight from the can.
Ate pretzels and learned to read his mind.
We shared our childhoods like penny candies,
switching all the peach ones for strawberry.
we agreed these are the best years of our lives.
He layed beside me, underneath as many covers as we could find,
taking up too much space and he knew it.
my cartoon boy.
My hand-drawn boy,
With smoke coming out of his ears
moved away.
We didn't talk again
..an intoxicating elixir drifts;
honeysuckle's fragrant healing balm
hummingbirds whistling, whirling, sky diving
flying like drunken honeybees gone wrong
inhaling the essence of springtime;
exhaling a penny for your thoughts
instead of finding your bliss
let your bliss find your song…
..it’s not
building a rocket ship;
it’s only poetry
expecting to fly ♥
...when the heart is open every word has meaning
..snippets from thinking out loud
a thought it is
that you do read
a poem it is called
but a thought no doubt it is for all
take it as you see it
understand it you may not
for my thought it is
for all to see
we all have thoughts
little to big
some dark n despair
some joyful n happy
all are what they be
for in time they come and go
but a thought they will always be
take it as you want it
for little is there in them
for anyone but you
no matter what it is
its part of who you are
it be there then it be gone
for its just a thought
the memory might last
it might come n go
be it deep
or be it shallow
its there in your mind
understand it ye may not
see it for what it is
feel it within you
forget its meaning
any of these it may be
come and time will go
go and it may remain
within it stays
for time itself
a thought to you
but to many
who knows
what is will be what is
a time n place for everything
so read as you will
forget as you may
remember what you do
a thought be just that
a memory
a passing
a thread of what might be
of what could be
of dreams n wishes
of aspirations
take a thought for what it is
for little do you understand
for within in is so much
yet little is seen
take heed of your thoughts
for they are all wise
no matter what they be
a lesson is there to be learnt
just see it for what it is
for we all have thoughts
so let them come and go
within you be
a penny for your thoughts............
Singing honey sucrose stream
Tidy shelving snug underneath
Nestled neatly inter-wing
Feather down cream
Mothers stroking cradle rocks
A thousand balls of foam spill
Softly avalanche and bury
Pure angels in snow hands
Petal sky smeared casual
Walks warmly sweetly
Silken fur raises brow
At the coming
Lily padded velvet pawed
Strong slender limbs graceful dancing
The Supple strength
Holds a breath for dawn
Long stalks arch backs
Purring release modesty
Pure unction weeps complete
Smooth shell face washed in milk
A banner sail widened arms
Outstretched for breeze’s kiss
A wishing penny glides
Through water falling leaf
Mallow clouds woolen sheep
Dandelion umbrellas borne away
Slowly sinking Sun dyes autumn
Watercolour cascades melt
Thinly delicately imagined
Fragile world Mary’s peace
Doll dependent doting
Soul canopied sanctuary
Silence speaks
this is an old poem, i just thought I'd share it.
Hope you can see the hidden message.
I will let you fancifully imagine that this means something -
it can if you want it to, or if you want to just shrug and carry on life
in a more literal world, well then, that's fine with me :)
-Jem-
every dream you had
every friend you left mad
every goal that paused
every cell thats lost
every glowing cross
every city block every known not
every gram of pot
every simple way
every everyday
every lowest wage
every scribbled page
every drunken rage
every shot of doubt
every random shout
every lesson learned
every penny earned
you can live with eyes shut staring down staying in fearing everything and sitting back watchin everyone else live love and grow of you can confront yourself become the best of friends with your conscience look forward to the sound of an alarm clock because the day holds nothing but a chance to grow absorb the sun and expand your mind you will become what you think its just a matter of time and will if you limit yourself, label yourself, and have low self esteem, you will find yourself in a state of neglect. this land pours opportunity, shines happiness, and reflects the most beautiful things you've ever seen into your own eyes
Missing a single heart at times
I skitter a stone across the pond
It glide and tries again to survive
Until it drowns and gone and gone
If life ain't allows being with you
I wanna lose these bodily attributes
I'll let the soul to fly it's way
Until the souls meet on and on
This life just ain't like anything
That you deal it like a ten a penny thing
It worth the one who understands
The joy of loving on and on
And trickles of raindrops fall,
From the cloud upon her wrist.
Sprung from the storm in her head.
Why is she still awake, she yearns to be dead
Blemishes on your cheek from where a kiss lay seed,
Love embroiled within inconsistent misery.
A pistol for your temple;
a penny for your sorrows.
Console and repent for your daughters sins,
Her blemishes deeper than the skin.
And there she lay, Quiescent on that white bed
craving that she would crave to die no more.
You are the sad love song I hear on the radio
You are the boy causing my friend grief and heartbreak
The empty beer bottles scattered all over the floor
The dark eyes staring back at me in the mirror, eyes that are not mine . Ones I do not recognize
You are alternate side parking on a thursday morning
You are all the reasons why not to leave my house on a rainy day
You are the little girl walkin the street alone looking around for the caring parent who will never be there on time to pick her up for school
You are the fighting couple in the middle of the street everyone walks by and doesn't pay attention to
The crushed up cigarettes on the floor that took someone's life
The wrong lotto ticket that the family on 6 was depending on
You are the emptiness in the poor mans stomach
You are the smoke coming out of the angry mans ears
You are the green in the jealous mans eyes
You are the deserted street no one dares to walk on
You are the outcome of a helpless soul
You are the feeling of anguish that rushes over the lonely widow
You are the voices of the unheard children
You are the letter that was never received
You are the lost the destiny
You are the never ending tunnels
The aid who never came
The hope which started to fade
The life of that fine young land
The reasons why we get do mad
You are thestory I can not write
You are the fear on thst dark stormy nigt
But out of all these things you are the one who ran back into the falling towers .
The sun that's hiding behind the clouds
The boy who plays his guitar on the street that doesn't give up
You are the penny that goes to charity
The older brother that protects his siblings
The mother who is strong even though her husband left her
You are the one who keeps the world going
You are the kids who made a difference the ones who didn't let anyone change them
The one I go to when everyhing feels wrong
The one that listens
The one who knows
You are the story that will never be able to be told for you are the story I can not write , too many different sides of you . So many my fingers just can't type
You arethe story I can not write but you are the story that will be a legend for ever .
Woke up on the cold side of
the bed again.
Lit my cigarette by the wrong end.
With decisions to weigh and debts to pay,
I dance better by myself.
Abandoned paved streets
shadowed by bright city lights,
a motionless breeze gives flight
to broken kites.
The man in the hammock dangling
by a string.
stays aloft in his solitude.
In the trivial pursuit of a
worthwhile endeavor
a life neatly filed away is run
through a shredder.
Spoonfed as a child then left all
alone
jilted like a bad penny.
Seeing through a prism of a dull
grey shade.
Bewildered at the ease of a
one-sided trade.
She built you a throne made of
leather and silk,
a throne made with only three legs.
I've been sick for as long as I can remember;
which has been quite awhile,
Even longer has it been
since I last saw my mother smile.
But today is different.
I'm finally to be rescued from this bottomless rut,
Today the change comes in the form of a haircut.
I've spent sleepless nights
fantasizing about the style and length,
Mother and Daddy promise that
they wont leave a single penny unspent.
A ponytail, a radical mohawk, a layered fringe maybe?
The haircut that will represent a brand new me.
Strands fall to the floor;
more and more until the final lock,
The barber man keeps snipping and just won't stop.
My new haircut is a bald head.
Mowed spotless with a razor,
The news that has just been broken to me
is that my new life with my new haircut is one of...cancer.
