dusty-baker - Hello Poetry

you came back like magic the salt spray hitting Lucy’s face from the frame on her bedroom wall you stepped out of a memory and nothing had changed your voice still honey sweet to me your smile still sonnets and songs thinking of you makes me feel the City in my veins again rushing and crashing and bustling my laugh rising above it all you came back like magic hiding dragons in your pockets whispering arthurian myths in my ears as I fall asleep finding me through the ages that separate us even though they never passed you are still family enough (to me) to brush my hair out at the end of the day once i’ve put the world away and taken off my armor hidden melodies spill from my lips when you’re there drawn like poison from a wound like honey from a comb songs i never think to sing around anyone else singing while i wait for you part of me still sitting in the park where i waited once before once, it was love (it will always be love)

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Jan 8, 2015

Jan 8, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC

for my poet

you came back like magic the salt spray hitting Lucy’s face from the frame on her bedroom wall you stepped out of a memory and nothing had changed your voice still honey sweet to me your smile still sonnets and songs thinking of you makes me feel the City in my veins again rushing and crashing and bustling my laugh rising above it all you came back like magic hiding dragons in your pockets whispering arthurian myths in my ears as I fall asleep finding me through the ages that separate us even though they never passed you are still family enough (to me) to brush my hair out at the end of the day once i’ve put the world away and taken off my armor hidden melodies spill from my lips when you’re there drawn like poison from a wound like honey from a comb songs i never think to sing around anyone else singing while i wait for you part of me still sitting in the park where i waited once before once, it was love (it will always be love)

26

Like the autumn frost, regret creeps through killing hope like leaves on a tree nature's tears falling one by one leaving me bare, naked in the face of the winter's chill the blinding snow and biting wind I let the frost come of my own accord twining around my heart my mind I let myself believe in lies and so my hope was snuffed out killed to rise only in a spring that may never come.

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Nov 9, 2013

Nov 9, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC

Winter Regret

Like the autumn frost, regret creeps through killing hope like leaves on a tree nature's tears falling one by one leaving me bare, naked in the face of the winter's chill the blinding snow and biting wind I let the frost come of my own accord twining around my heart my mind I let myself believe in lies and so my hope was snuffed out killed to rise only in a spring that may never come.

17

i've been reading poetry ee cummings and-- sylvia plath pretty pools of words filled with color --and ducks charles bukowski is a ***** old man lots of ***** old words and images but real dirt, not pretend real's so hard to find these days they talk about love like it's broken--painful--deadly-- always wonderfully beautiful (like the beautiful snake whose poison's killing you) that's not love because it's falling asleep with warm breath on the back of your neck and your bed a little too small because it's laughing so hard that you almost snort macaroni and cheese out your nose because it's doing laundry and pausing just to notice how your clothes smell like her because it's waiting alone, imagining how big you'll smile when she comes back - it's always bigger than you think. because it's knowing that the pain's not part of love, it's part of being human they don't know nearly as much as they think-- they do i love-- baseball in the park when it's not too hot (I play shortstop) chocolate ice cream cones in the hot sun (dripping down my hand) flying kites in autumn winds (the falling leaves make the difference) sledding through the snow (and crashing into snowbanks) i love-- coca-cola (in the glass bottles) root beer (with vanilla ice cream) 7-up (it's better than sprite) mountain dew (caffeine!) i love-- you (and the soapy smell after you shower) you (making me laugh more) you (how much you care about people) you (and you let me, too) that's my proof they don't know (what they're talking about that is) so-- i think poetry is overrated

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Jan 25, 2010

Jan 25, 2010 at 10:08 PM UTC

love poems

i've been reading poetry ee cummings and-- sylvia plath pretty pools of words filled with color --and ducks charles bukowski is a ***** old man lots of ***** old words and images but real dirt, not pretend real's so hard to find these days they talk about love like it's broken--painful--deadly-- always wonderfully beautiful (like the beautiful snake whose poison's killing you) that's not love because it's falling asleep with warm breath on the back of your neck and your bed a little too small because it's laughing so hard that you almost snort macaroni and cheese out your nose because it's doing laundry and pausing just to notice how your clothes smell like her because it's waiting alone, imagining how big you'll smile when she comes back - it's always bigger than you think. because it's knowing that the pain's not part of love, it's part of being human they don't know nearly as much as they think-- they do i love-- baseball in the park when it's not too hot (I play shortstop) chocolate ice cream cones in the hot sun (dripping down my hand) flying kites in autumn winds (the falling leaves make the difference) sledding through the snow (and crashing into snowbanks) i love-- coca-cola (in the glass bottles) root beer (with vanilla ice cream) 7-up (it's better than sprite) mountain dew (caffeine!) i love-- you (and the soapy smell after you shower) you (making me laugh more) you (how much you care about people) you (and you let me, too) that's my proof they don't know (what they're talking about that is) so-- i think poetry is overrated

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