adam-holmstrom - Hello Poetry

Life half-fulfilled on a front porch Watching a garden of good greens But missing one little piece. A little seed to grow into a pretty scene, A little you and all the things I'd ever need. Gave you a quick smile, said it could be awhile Until I gather all the fixtures that fit me. I won't deny a chance for chivalry By making sure your sense of comfort is with me This patch in my garden is weeding wild. I'll still push on for the maintenance meanwhile. I know the best in life is worth waiting for I know there's four seasons in life we're waiting for. Walking around the town, Said it could be awhile And it's killin me. The locals know the garden just misses a piece One that heals just a moment of me.

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Sep 26, 2023

Sep 26, 2023 at 1:42 AM UTC

Little Piece

Life half-fulfilled on a front porch Watching a garden of good greens But missing one little piece. A little seed to grow into a pretty scene, A little you and all the things I'd ever need. Gave you a quick smile, said it could be awhile Until I gather all the fixtures that fit me. I won't deny a chance for chivalry By making sure your sense of comfort is with me This patch in my garden is weeding wild. I'll still push on for the maintenance meanwhile. I know the best in life is worth waiting for I know there's four seasons in life we're waiting for. Walking around the town, Said it could be awhile And it's killin me. The locals know the garden just misses a piece One that heals just a moment of me.

18

My life made its home in my heart. It flickers a burning ember with nothing to save ...but my heart that always burns with why and where we could be. I feel comfort some days ...but my heart trusts only myself in this life in my home where you were not and didn't want to be. My home is my heart and my life is my

0

Apr 6, 2023

Apr 6, 2023 at 3:11 AM UTC

Home is where the heart is

My life made its home in my heart. It flickers a burning ember with nothing to save ...but my heart that always burns with why and where we could be. I feel comfort some days ...but my heart trusts only myself in this life in my home where you were not and didn't want to be. My home is my heart and my life is my

17

I ran against the wretched wind With whimpering empty breathing That couldnt push my lungs to go on. I let myself die there So i could carry on this creation. It's dark lifeless lore--yet to me it lived. It held no expectation And burdened no hope. Just boundlessly free and naive. It lusted hard and loved. Years have past and it's living within me, a makeshift memoir to a self I could be. I'm building the strength to cast it away And fight through the wind with my new improved me.

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Apr 6, 2023

Apr 6, 2023 at 3:09 AM UTC

Revived

I ran against the wretched wind With whimpering empty breathing That couldnt push my lungs to go on. I let myself die there So i could carry on this creation. It's dark lifeless lore--yet to me it lived. It held no expectation And burdened no hope. Just boundlessly free and naive. It lusted hard and loved. Years have past and it's living within me, a makeshift memoir to a self I could be. I'm building the strength to cast it away And fight through the wind with my new improved me.

14

Now, words feel irrelevant. False hopes are losing to reality. "She walks the niiight" Sorry Dallas I didn't get the memo, 17 days were not enough to love her. Even a year went by without me knowing, not feeling what I used to feel, what I know I could feel. I don't know if I can ever feel it again. Maybe I'll find out In 17 days.

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Feb 7, 2023

Feb 7, 2023 at 2:48 AM UTC

Lost in Delaware

Now, words feel irrelevant. False hopes are losing to reality. "She walks the niiight" Sorry Dallas I didn't get the memo, 17 days were not enough to love her. Even a year went by without me knowing, not feeling what I used to feel, what I know I could feel. I don't know if I can ever feel it again. Maybe I'll find out In 17 days.

11

at the bottom of a wishing well of barley and hops I ask if my heart will beat one last time.

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Jan 27, 2019

Jan 27, 2019 at 7:24 PM UTC

numb

at the bottom of a wishing well of barley and hops I ask if my heart will beat one last time.

4

Where did my life go? I asked as I watched the sunrise from eyes in my bleeding head, as I knew not where I was but more where I'd been. I didn't know the truck stop bench that I awoke a bleeding mess on with only a dry whisky tongue to whisper what the **** I didnt know the cracks in my phone came likely from a crackhead's home where I reached the top of the ski hill only to tumble down with no boots on. I didn't know my deep head wound came while I came unglued as I fought for a life I guess I knew would come to this because this is how I've been. Where did my life go? I feel it safe and waiting for me. Only I can reach it, it answers just to me.

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Oct 24, 2018

Oct 24, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC

Rinse this wound too

Where did my life go? I asked as I watched the sunrise from eyes in my bleeding head, as I knew not where I was but more where I'd been. I didn't know the truck stop bench that I awoke a bleeding mess on with only a dry whisky tongue to whisper what the **** I didnt know the cracks in my phone came likely from a crackhead's home where I reached the top of the ski hill only to tumble down with no boots on. I didn't know my deep head wound came while I came unglued as I fought for a life I guess I knew would come to this because this is how I've been. Where did my life go? I feel it safe and waiting for me. Only I can reach it, it answers just to me.

23

A head ringing under a moonlight blinding with a sun waiting for its call to peek. Waiting for the resting in rubble, the grieving in gallows and the ones too gone to end tonight but alone. The curtains of the night sweep them away leaving them stray in a thought that how many times must the night take all but my life and leave me to rot.

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Oct 2, 2018

Oct 2, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC

Sleeping by a Bottle

A head ringing under a moonlight blinding with a sun waiting for its call to peek. Waiting for the resting in rubble, the grieving in gallows and the ones too gone to end tonight but alone. The curtains of the night sweep them away leaving them stray in a thought that how many times must the night take all but my life and leave me to rot.

13

I'm addicted to a life of wondering hoping dreaming guessing ...and missing. I'm trying to quit and get hooked on living.

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Aug 14, 2018

Aug 14, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC

Nicorette

I'm addicted to a life of wondering hoping dreaming guessing ...and missing. I'm trying to quit and get hooked on living.

8

We lie awake at afterparty hours with fragile hearts that scream silently, violently, why do we feel alone? Why do we feel alone with so many of us here? We carry a torch in its fire our feelings flicker. We pass it around breathing the ember in. We inhale the flames And exhale dark ashes. Each breath keeps it ignited as we share this light inside us. We feel it's familiar warmth when we pass each other by. It bonds and it heals us; all walks of our lives together. We lie awake at any fragile hour with open hearts that scream loudly, proudly, we are not alone.

0

Aug 9, 2018

Aug 9, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC

No more lonely hours

We lie awake at afterparty hours with fragile hearts that scream silently, violently, why do we feel alone? Why do we feel alone with so many of us here? We carry a torch in its fire our feelings flicker. We pass it around breathing the ember in. We inhale the flames And exhale dark ashes. Each breath keeps it ignited as we share this light inside us. We feel it's familiar warmth when we pass each other by. It bonds and it heals us; all walks of our lives together. We lie awake at any fragile hour with open hearts that scream loudly, proudly, we are not alone.

26

Out of habit I said I was fine but no one is fine in the dark speaking to voices screaming to ghosts crying to puddles of tears. No one is fine in the light with only themselves in sight.

0

Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC

Help?

Out of habit I said I was fine but no one is fine in the dark speaking to voices screaming to ghosts crying to puddles of tears. No one is fine in the light with only themselves in sight.

7