Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
3-md
M/) Brevity is key, but of course a little sugar here and there turns an otherwise bland concoction of words into a sweet blend of many colors. I write mainly for her these days.
I wonder whether we'd see ourselves on a dainty handheld hologram stuck between bookends with titles of worn-out type one sentimental winter afternoon many moons from now... Perhaps then we'd have outgrown counting months: we might as well count the years like they do the stars on a tranquil night, naming the myths and figures they've burned into our insight; we'll dream of constellations— islands of starlight that stood out in an already pleasant sea of living life with you.
0
Dec 21, 2023
Dec 21, 2023 at 11:08 AM UTC
many moons from now...
like night misses day It’s the feeling you get when your eyes can't wait to see the blessed sun so they refuse to shut lest they miss the wake of dawn... But I know I should rather sleep to pull myself faster to the break of day than to stay up conversing with Cupid about how she's been and what's gone her way... I suppose my demons have their ways of inciting the urge by pestering my mind with phantasms of her... Why does the night have to drag itself so sluggishly? I still miss her like night misses day. If only the moon would give me the courtesy of winding the sun every evening so that it might never leave me be; might she shine on my face forevermore?
0
Oct 9, 2023
Oct 9, 2023 at 9:06 PM UTC
I still miss her
I know what makes your burn It's the dim of a moonlit night and the saunter of lips up hills and valleys-- It's the crackle of cigarettes atop our pleasantries and the spill of sweet talk made unchained by our mouths To be covered in love until the following dawn dripping drops of lovey-dovey morning dew... To be terribly in love until the following dawn drinking shots like doting lovebirds do...
0
Oct 9, 2023
Oct 9, 2023 at 6:20 AM UTC
High Octane OXT
If I showed you a still from a Wes Anderson film I'm sure you'd probably have a lot to say-- a multitude of ideas waiting to pour forth from your mouth and brimming off the top of your head... I'd gladly spend as many hours as I'd need waiting for you to empty your excitement as you talk away about the things you love in that adorable manner of wanting to say so much Believe me when I tell you your impassioned expressions are more entertaining in their own cute way than any feature film I can recall Serve me a dish of things I never knew and stuff I could say I only learned today
0
Sep 28, 2023
Sep 28, 2023 at 12:58 PM UTC
a lot to say
the ill-tempered autumn wind does little to sway an evergreen whose timber column rings thus of doggedness unseen. there may have been moments when leaves would wither here and there, but its blanket of foliage has fought to keep its verdant hue-- whether caught in snow or shaken by pelting rain, whether trampled undue by the trudging of time or battered somehow by a certain bane... the fact is, he's been here for so long: he's taken after the colors of her writing pens like mixed laundry bleeding its red unto a wash of white linens-- alas, sometimes I find myself lying beneath the boardwalk drowning in her songs and sifting through a gallery of her smiles. this has been the most meaningful three quarters of any year i have had the privilege of co-authoring with someone so dear.
0
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 12:15 PM UTC
nine months in
Have we all become mere automata guided by the ring of pings and notifs? The spray of lather from a sea of data carrying with it wrung celebrity whiffs have stung us with a certain aphasia... The written thought was a lifetime ago long abandoned by the times and all-- where once there was soundness to follow nonsense amassed like a rising cymbal whose crash sent reason to the gallows. The news of the day presents a delectable entree of a hodgepodge of this, that, and nothing much. Wherefore we find our tongues compelled to say something about the aftertaste or to prejudge as if we were connoisseurs--it must've hid faraway. Are we perhaps amusing ourselves to death? I am by no means a Luddite to such a degree, but I believe we have bombarded and blessed ourselves a little too much to see... only time will tell us reason's final breath.
0
Sep 19, 2023
Sep 19, 2023 at 10:38 PM UTC
Automata
i see drops of water tracing the lines of your hair-- it's like you're crying but you're happy and i swear even a painter couldn't muster the awe to bear the sight of you under showering rain i see nightlights peeking behind your silhouette and the tones of your flustered blush try not to separate themselves from the warm comely palette of the shot of our figures in loving embrace i see a blanket folded into your solemn sleeping shape with curves smiling back; in a way, i wouldn't escape had you had me landlocked within your pretty landscapes... hug me tight so that i might see just how pretty you can be under the soft glow of a burning moment
0
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 10:40 AM UTC
i see
**** no way! im still alive? im getting too ******* old... anyway, what's for breakf-- "rent"? **** i'm old.
0
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 8:12 PM UTC
nineteen
she's a park bench witness to my marked French kisses and her pulchritude pulls me to say not even Clark Kent's mistress can push me out of her flames
0
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 8:16 PM UTC
park bench witness