daniel-holden - Hello Poetry

What will our last words to each other be? And how will they come? Will they come in a scream, full of poison and vile, punctuated with a slammed door? Or will they be apologies, written in a letter: "So sorry...goodbye." Maybe they'll be sweet and we two, having lived our lives, will kiss one last time and let out last words stay as secrets. Maybe we won't know when they've come, and we'll just drift apart. Our last words meaning nothing, at all. But what fun would it be, If we knew the ending?

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Mar 21, 2013

Mar 21, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC

daniel-holden

words

What will our last words to each other be? And how will they come? Will they come in a scream, full of poison and vile, punctuated with a slammed door? Or will they be apologies, written in a letter: "So sorry...goodbye." Maybe they'll be sweet and we two, having lived our lives, will kiss one last time and let out last words stay as secrets. Maybe we won't know when they've come, and we'll just drift apart. Our last words meaning nothing, at all. But what fun would it be, If we knew the ending?

19

Sometimes, I feel you pull away from me And I can tell that you're about to run again It feels wrong to not be with you And I think that you know it too So you run, when we get close Did you know I can run? And the more you run from me The more I run from you Until one day We're running away from each other At top speed

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Mar 13, 2013

Mar 13, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC

daniel-holden

She talks about countries, kissing you knowingly.

Sometimes, I feel you pull away from me And I can tell that you're about to run again It feels wrong to not be with you And I think that you know it too So you run, when we get close Did you know I can run? And the more you run from me The more I run from you Until one day We're running away from each other At top speed

11

Come dear I've been drinking, and I want to drink you in. The bottles, they flew open the phone it would not ring. They say I have been screaming But I haven't heard a thing Come dear, I've been drinking And I want to drink you in.

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Sep 6, 2012

Sep 6, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC

daniel-holden

a short rhyming poem

Come dear I've been drinking, and I want to drink you in. The bottles, they flew open the phone it would not ring. They say I have been screaming But I haven't heard a thing Come dear, I've been drinking And I want to drink you in.

16

The horizon was a sea of corn stalks, stretching out endless in either direction swaying in the breeze and I imagined it had a breath of its own. We laid there naked in the field, behind the burnt out foundation of the old farmhouse. A blue moon gave us some light and a glow to your skin Stumbling there in the night Rollin on the dirt with skinned knees and laughter You pressed your flesh to mine I kissed you deeply and knew peace.

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Sep 4, 2012

Sep 4, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC

daniel-holden

The time in which I had almost convinced myself things were not so horrible.

The horizon was a sea of corn stalks, stretching out endless in either direction swaying in the breeze and I imagined it had a breath of its own. We laid there naked in the field, behind the burnt out foundation of the old farmhouse. A blue moon gave us some light and a glow to your skin Stumbling there in the night Rollin on the dirt with skinned knees and laughter You pressed your flesh to mine I kissed you deeply and knew peace.

16

I like the way my hands look like in the light of a fire, I think. It could be the drugs, or the drinking Or sleep I haven't been sleeping, But every year, When winter has gone, and spring stands defiantly ahead, I am reminded of this, I like my hands, In the light of fire, With a good bit of dirt on them, And a jug of rotgut wine in them. I like the way my hands look in the light of a fire.

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Mar 15, 2012

Mar 15, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC

daniel-holden

Something fairly new, and often made out of something old.

I like the way my hands look like in the light of a fire, I think. It could be the drugs, or the drinking Or sleep I haven't been sleeping, But every year, When winter has gone, and spring stands defiantly ahead, I am reminded of this, I like my hands, In the light of fire, With a good bit of dirt on them, And a jug of rotgut wine in them. I like the way my hands look in the light of a fire.

12

Today the plane rocked and shook like hell. And normally I would think of dying and then this time I thought of dying still. But instead of imagining the impact, and the fire, and the screams, I imagined the faces of the people I knew when they heard of my end. I thought of her, wishing she had bothered to say goodbye, or that she hadn't turned away when the puzzle pieces fit and she found out how I felt. So this time when the plane shook I said "Let the **** thing burn." I'm not going back to anything anyways.

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Oct 24, 2010

Oct 24, 2010 at 5:30 PM UTC

daniel-holden

flying

Today the plane rocked and shook like hell. And normally I would think of dying and then this time I thought of dying still. But instead of imagining the impact, and the fire, and the screams, I imagined the faces of the people I knew when they heard of my end. I thought of her, wishing she had bothered to say goodbye, or that she hadn't turned away when the puzzle pieces fit and she found out how I felt. So this time when the plane shook I said "Let the **** thing burn." I'm not going back to anything anyways.

26

I woke early on a Sunday morning around five or six and I thought to myself "this is ideal." Like most nights I experience I was awake while the world slept but on this occasion, the promise of a day lingered in front of me. So after re-heated coffee from the day before I hopped into my old truck and went for a drive on roads populated only by the silence of a morning and me All the streetlights changed for me, and each cigarette exploded only for me a show in the dark hours of the morning and I drove around this way, until the sun started to rise showing the light of the morning dew the weeping earth

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Oct 18, 2010

Oct 18, 2010 at 10:56 AM UTC

daniel-holden

a sunday morning in which it felt like the night

I woke early on a Sunday morning around five or six and I thought to myself "this is ideal." Like most nights I experience I was awake while the world slept but on this occasion, the promise of a day lingered in front of me. So after re-heated coffee from the day before I hopped into my old truck and went for a drive on roads populated only by the silence of a morning and me All the streetlights changed for me, and each cigarette exploded only for me a show in the dark hours of the morning and I drove around this way, until the sun started to rise showing the light of the morning dew the weeping earth

28

Company was coming over and I was high, out of my mind black streaks all over my hands still in my robe in my pajamas But being a man of class, an etiquette I fastened the button on my pants after all company is coming over.

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Oct 16, 2010

Oct 16, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC

daniel-holden

class

Company was coming over and I was high, out of my mind black streaks all over my hands still in my robe in my pajamas But being a man of class, an etiquette I fastened the button on my pants after all company is coming over.

11

Once a girl told me that the first time she met me I was drunken and kept pulling my knife on her threatening to stab her. Months later when we were ******* I told her that it was just foreshadowing.

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Oct 16, 2010

Oct 16, 2010 at 10:43 AM UTC

daniel-holden

once in the north with the lights off and then on again

Once a girl told me that the first time she met me I was drunken and kept pulling my knife on her threatening to stab her. Months later when we were ******* I told her that it was just foreshadowing.

10

I try and scratch you from my memory but every time I drink you seep back into my peripherals like the cracks in my old coffee mug you drip and drip and drip until I can ignore it no longer, but I am not without my own weapons to fight off the memories the terror is always here by my side telling me what i need to hear and I pay attention to it and I drink, long and powerful drinks letting the alcohol pour down my throat feeling the poison stir in my gut and feel the sweet euphoria rush to my head and then suddenly, I am full of purpose I have things to do and a great black sky to scream at.

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Oct 14, 2010

Oct 14, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC

daniel-holden

a leak

I try and scratch you from my memory but every time I drink you seep back into my peripherals like the cracks in my old coffee mug you drip and drip and drip until I can ignore it no longer, but I am not without my own weapons to fight off the memories the terror is always here by my side telling me what i need to hear and I pay attention to it and I drink, long and powerful drinks letting the alcohol pour down my throat feeling the poison stir in my gut and feel the sweet euphoria rush to my head and then suddenly, I am full of purpose I have things to do and a great black sky to scream at.

21