angela-zhang - Hello Poetry

I seem to be a mouth, but really I am an ear be careful of what you sayforI will pick up hansel’s crumbs. I seem to be bold, but really I am italic to be a leaf when I want to be a tree grown from a seed of rebellion. I seem to be naïve, but really I am wise still, it’s hard not to fall behind in the race to stumble and lose the prize. I seem to be a story, but really I am a memory takingthe cookies from the oven, I think what is life these days?

0

Feb 28, 2010

Feb 28, 2010 at 10:21 AM UTC

this is a battle

I seem to be a mouth, but really I am an ear be careful of what you sayforI will pick up hansel’s crumbs. I seem to be bold, but really I am italic to be a leaf when I want to be a tree grown from a seed of rebellion. I seem to be naïve, but really I am wise still, it’s hard not to fall behind in the race to stumble and lose the prize. I seem to be a story, but really I am a memory takingthe cookies from the oven, I think what is life these days?

11

The clouds finally release their burden, Feeling themselves suddenly empty, Missing the drops of moisture that used to nestle within that now seal the sky with white. The snow falls like dots on an old TV screen,Its bunny ear antennas finally failing in old age. Muffled silence. Shh! Do not disturb. The wind echoes through the trees, Whispering airplanes lamenting the freedom of flight. The snow plummets from the sky Arrows shot by a hidden enemy But this is a friendly kind of war, The intended targets only becoming chillier. The wind chimes peal occasionally in delight, Shaken by the frigid gust that slants the snowfall I exhale, my breath warm as it clouds past my lips, it swirls back to envelop me, as if in thanks. The world is quiet here.

0

Feb 19, 2010

Feb 19, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC

picturesque

The clouds finally release their burden, Feeling themselves suddenly empty, Missing the drops of moisture that used to nestle within that now seal the sky with white. The snow falls like dots on an old TV screen,Its bunny ear antennas finally failing in old age. Muffled silence. Shh! Do not disturb. The wind echoes through the trees, Whispering airplanes lamenting the freedom of flight. The snow plummets from the sky Arrows shot by a hidden enemy But this is a friendly kind of war, The intended targets only becoming chillier. The wind chimes peal occasionally in delight, Shaken by the frigid gust that slants the snowfall I exhale, my breath warm as it clouds past my lips, it swirls back to envelop me, as if in thanks. The world is quiet here.

17

skirts rustle across the floor whispers of movement and conversation, the conversations! voices fill the room to the rafters brimming with that peculiar sound (and the occasional snubbed toe) while in the background, unnoticed save as the source of everything fists raised for the next passage black and brown in synchronized movement the body drones, chucks falling in heartbeats but the mechanics do not worry him while his background hums in boredom he is thinking about the prince in common time stately marching fanfare with a tinge of melancholy so vivid in his eyes the picture so vivid as if he was marching in that very room destined to marry the girl arranged by his well meaning parents pretty enough but... that other girl catches his eye his heartbeat his passion how does he choose? here come the boom chuck chucks that elusive three four cueing waltzes with each and both whirling around the floor a reflection of reality… but this is their reality how, can he choose? but in the end, it’s his duty that calls him his duty calls in this big bright burning yellow room no happily ever after for this fairytale prince

0

Feb 19, 2010

Feb 19, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC

once upon a time

skirts rustle across the floor whispers of movement and conversation, the conversations! voices fill the room to the rafters brimming with that peculiar sound (and the occasional snubbed toe) while in the background, unnoticed save as the source of everything fists raised for the next passage black and brown in synchronized movement the body drones, chucks falling in heartbeats but the mechanics do not worry him while his background hums in boredom he is thinking about the prince in common time stately marching fanfare with a tinge of melancholy so vivid in his eyes the picture so vivid as if he was marching in that very room destined to marry the girl arranged by his well meaning parents pretty enough but... that other girl catches his eye his heartbeat his passion how does he choose? here come the boom chuck chucks that elusive three four cueing waltzes with each and both whirling around the floor a reflection of reality… but this is their reality how, can he choose? but in the end, it’s his duty that calls him his duty calls in this big bright burning yellow room no happily ever after for this fairytale prince

36

They sell it in bulk, in packs of many It is not a rarity here it would be back home. They do not cherish it it is often lost. But I marvel at the smooth wood lined with rock throughout, and topped with sap of trees! It resembles a tree, bitten by a paddle-tailed creature, one end sharpened to a deadly point. This rock, it communicates with other people. The sap can erode it, erase the mineral completely. What kind of strange, miraculous thing can destroy rock with such little effort ?

0

Jan 26, 2010

Jan 26, 2010 at 4:45 PM UTC

No. 2 by ET

They sell it in bulk, in packs of many It is not a rarity here it would be back home. They do not cherish it it is often lost. But I marvel at the smooth wood lined with rock throughout, and topped with sap of trees! It resembles a tree, bitten by a paddle-tailed creature, one end sharpened to a deadly point. This rock, it communicates with other people. The sap can erode it, erase the mineral completely. What kind of strange, miraculous thing can destroy rock with such little effort ?

17

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Us, we are in love with the chickens. We want to know why. Is it really any of our business why that chicken crosses the road? And us, even though we ponder despite our curiosity will never know. Chicken first, egg second, vice versa. Or maybe they appeared at the same time created out of nothing.

0

Jan 26, 2010

Jan 26, 2010 at 4:42 PM UTC

henpecked

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Us, we are in love with the chickens. We want to know why. Is it really any of our business why that chicken crosses the road? And us, even though we ponder despite our curiosity will never know. Chicken first, egg second, vice versa. Or maybe they appeared at the same time created out of nothing.

16

The back hides a smiling face smirking quietly at us as it announces the sun. The gray sheen of its metal membrane twinkles dully inviting us to hurl it to the floor. Its uneven ticking a stumbling old man Then silence. Its life spun out by the twirling blades The minute hand creeps stealthily unnoticed by irritated ears until you notice your life has passed you by.

0

Jan 24, 2010

Jan 24, 2010 at 8:06 PM UTC

Tick Tock Bam

The back hides a smiling face smirking quietly at us as it announces the sun. The gray sheen of its metal membrane twinkles dully inviting us to hurl it to the floor. Its uneven ticking a stumbling old man Then silence. Its life spun out by the twirling blades The minute hand creeps stealthily unnoticed by irritated ears until you notice your life has passed you by.

17