Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
gary-muir
my feet are weary but I walk tall this path is worn but I will outlast it there is a city ahead I imagine, people who are strangers now but perhaps not forever the only always is my desire to never be alone I can only carry myself for so long but I’ll make it, I say I will collapse into the arms of one who was once a face in a shop or a figure behind a book who knows how many millions will walk by until I find the courage to fail or maybe someone else reads an Annie Dillard book how much do I have in common with anyone other than myself probably nothing I should let myself be lost for someone else to find I want to be a stranger again tell me how to unlearn and disremember
0
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
november 8
I miss having someone with whom I can share my deepest feelings, my hurts, my desires. I need to relieve this aching chest, this chest that tightens up without my noticing, until I begin to gasp. I need to cry; I need someone who knows my inside, and not my out. Its tough not being known—it is a situation one feels no need to prepare for, until it occurs. I desperately want to invite someone in—though only someone that knocks first, someone that wants to be here. And I myself want to be welcomed into another, to understand and feel for someone else, as they feel for me. Here in this place, how do I make my knock heard? My knock is faint, and unfamiliar. I shall keep knocking nonetheless. And pray a door will be opened.
0
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
untitled
the unused morning sits pure and pretty on my window sill calls my name, lures me out to wet dew and warm sunlight it asks me to walk within it to traverse its every nook to know the secrets it holds in wide plains, open for those who look look, it says see what I have, for you all of this is yours, if you want it it says this as it tucks me into the morning sends me to wakefulness with the sweetest tune I am here, it says, and you are here dance with me, with wings on your feet for I am awake, and have not felt the wind since forever
0
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
do I sleep, or do I wake?
as the last drop of you thins in my veins, I find I’ve forgotten how to hold a pencil don’t remember the syntax of a sentence this page would be better used for kindling can’t write a poem with a pen that’s been emptied of its passion no more nights of tangled limbs and cool-air conversation no more days of light laughter, shy smiles, and a flower growing in my gut -  you made a garden out of me dipped your paintbrush in my pigments the portrait you painted I hung in front of my mirror for you made me the man I’d always wanted to be that portrait still hangs in its place I’m too afraid to see what now lies behind no longer star-light bright my eyes reflect ghost ship lanterns fading in a sea of memory I sink, wishing time would turn back or at least hurry forward - just stop standing so still. I sit, waiting until I’m struck again but knowing hope is no course of action.
0
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
as the last drop of you thins in my veins
He has the moon in his eyes. This boy who stands still as the others rush by. His stop is brief - he just wants to have a look around But by the time he turns back, the others have turned the corner. A corner. Some corner. What corner? He turns down every street, every side alley but finds only the cracked lanes of empty sidewalks. Lost, he continues to wander searching for someone who knows his way or at the very least is just as lost.
0
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
hoping to be found
I’m ready for revolution there won't be no midnight Revere but let me tell you, it’s coming cause I’ve had just about too many nights dreaming dreams that ain’t mine I go to bed in hollow bird-bone shackles dreaming the world is telling me to fly but only South, cause that’s where I’ll be successful ...I know success is really flying North and coming out alive so when I wake I get a book for a pillow and a pencil paper night stand cause I’ve just been thinking its my time to take a stand so here I stand fluttering limbs and a nervous system that’s **** nervous but I’m here for it’s time that I tell my story it’s time that I know who I am I am done sleepwalking in the dreams of others - unconscious of my own conscience   this is my manifesto to reclaim my crumpled dreams from a forgotten pocket, to spread them out before me and point where I’m going to go this is my manifesto to forget about the past, and the future to dance to good music to tell a girl when she’s beautiful and to have the courage to cry this is my manifesto to speak loud run fast to love hard and to let go for that is all I must do let go of the placating promises that keep my dreams anchored in tomorrow push off from the shore and let the very current that courses through my veins carry me out to sea for there is an ocean.. waiting for me an entire world in which I get to sail in whatever direction I please so please, come with me push off from the shore with your own manifesto at the helm and we won’t sail together, but when we pass, I’ll wave. and you’ll wave too. for we both know that the ocean is ours, and we’re just dreaming after all
0
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
quiet this unrest
I’m ready for revolution there won't be no midnight Revere but let me tell you, it’s coming cause I’ve had just about too many nights dreaming dreams that ain’t mine I go to bed in hollow bird-bone shackles dreaming the world is telling me to fly but only South, cause that’s where I’ll be successful ...I know success is really flying North and coming out alive so when I wake I get a book for a pillow and a pencil paper night stand cause I’ve just been thinking its my time to take a stand so here I stand fluttering limbs and a nervous system that’s **** nervous but I’m here for it’s time that I tell my story it’s time that I know who I am I am done sleepwalking in the dreams of others - unconscious of my own conscience   this is my manifesto to reclaim my crumpled dreams from a forgotten pocket, to spread them out before me and point where I’m going to go this is my manifesto to forget about the past, and the future to dance to good music to tell a girl when she’s beautiful and to have the courage to cry this is my manifesto to speak loud run fast to love hard and to let go for that is all I must do let go of the placating promises that keep my dreams anchored in tomorrow push off from the shore and let the very current that courses through my veins carry me out to sea for there is an ocean.. waiting for me an entire world in which I get to sail in whatever direction I please so please, come with me push off from the shore with your own manifesto at the helm and we won’t sail together, but when we pass, I’ll wave. and you’ll wave too. for we both know that the ocean is ours, and we’re just dreaming after all
Continue reading...
46
in a town in which I've never been you light a cigarette and try to smoke me out of your mind while I sit here, my ashtray filled with pencil stubs from trying to write my arms around you I haven't slept since you left I've spent my nights searching for the sun for if I found it, I'd climb right on top so I could be with you in the morning but my mornings remain rivers after a storm memories flowing by like debris I can't reach them without falling in so I stand and watch them go its the watching I can't stand watching your hand slip from mine watching the wrong time convince us that we can't be together I feel helpless, hopeless these days hold me prisoner the hurt trying to torture remorse from my lips but I will never regret the days I spent with you when I was with you you looked at me like there was no past or future, only now you listened to me like I was Buddha preaching the Eightfold Path you spoke to me like I was memorizing your every word, cause I was you hugged me you held me you kissed me like I’m a boy you had a crush on became I’m a boy who loves you but here I’m a boy who misses you as the wind blew us together, the rain shall sweep us away and come fall we’ll be leaves of different colors i just want to tell you that for how forcefully my gut protests at the thought of letting you go I cannot hear its cries when I think of the time I spent with you you took my heart in your hands, you broke it in and stretched it out, and then you gave it back here, you said, it is ready
0
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
we diverge
in a town in which I've never been you light a cigarette and try to smoke me out of your mind while I sit here, my ashtray filled with pencil stubs from trying to write my arms around you I haven't slept since you left I've spent my nights searching for the sun for if I found it, I'd climb right on top so I could be with you in the morning but my mornings remain rivers after a storm memories flowing by like debris I can't reach them without falling in so I stand and watch them go its the watching I can't stand watching your hand slip from mine watching the wrong time convince us that we can't be together I feel helpless, hopeless these days hold me prisoner the hurt trying to torture remorse from my lips but I will never regret the days I spent with you when I was with you you looked at me like there was no past or future, only now you listened to me like I was Buddha preaching the Eightfold Path you spoke to me like I was memorizing your every word, cause I was you hugged me you held me you kissed me like I’m a boy you had a crush on became I’m a boy who loves you but here I’m a boy who misses you as the wind blew us together, the rain shall sweep us away and come fall we’ll be leaves of different colors i just want to tell you that for how forcefully my gut protests at the thought of letting you go I cannot hear its cries when I think of the time I spent with you you took my heart in your hands, you broke it in and stretched it out, and then you gave it back here, you said, it is ready
Continue reading...
39
the funny thing about time is the way it grinds your bones to dust while they’re still sitting in your flesh we can all feel it, we pretend we don’t, but we do you feel it when you wake up in the morning having dreamt of your childhood and the sound of your sister’s laughter is still ringing in your ears you feel it when you look up from a book and its not your brother sitting in the chair next to you but a strange fellow with a deep voice and a nose that looks remarkably familiar and strongest of all, you feel it when at the dinner table your mother asks you what you’ve been up to for the past 18 years see, the funny thing about time is the way it grinds your bones to dust while they’re still sitting in your flesh just the other night, I pressed my palms together and I called on a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile, to ask where he’d been he told me he’d been spending time with my father because the man really needed some company without his oldest son to talk to oh and while I have you, he said, your mother called she told me to tell you that your bed is made, if you ever want to come home
0
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
my first love poem
my eyes hurl meteor metaphors towards the gravity of your gaze upon impact, passion ignites poems in the starlight of your stare connected in constellation, we read
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
on a saturday night
O, to live in the absence of time when days are not days, but moments always begun, never at end unplanned, uncharted and remembered
0
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
in between dreams