Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
kelsey-a-nicholson
kelsey-a-nicholson
I want to slip deep beneath these sheets Falling steadily into a world of comfort Where the warmth of my own company Can protect me from the cold shoulders of this world. I want to run through tall yellowed fields Like a giggling child, simply in love with life. Where my sure naivety isn’t even known to me. I dream of escaping this place And finding a place for you and me To love like we were meant to love Where our intense passion will never fade As long as we’re in inches of each other. Where your eyes never left my ivory face And my cobalt eyes And where I can’t take my hands off your copper skin. The electricity when we touch Could power the glimmering city lights. So let’s run away from this life Like we’re careless and free. And let our love rule the world.
0
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 9:22 PM UTC
Utopia
I spit words like fire from a blow torch Flames singeing the air like they singe your soul. I whisper words like secrets from hushed voices Murmurs fill the silence like crushing water to a sinking ship. I sing words like colorful birds from dense forests Sweet melodies ringing like church bells from churches. I rhyme words like nursery school teachers Tee’s and two’s and me’s and you’s. I laugh words like children from ***** playgrounds Giggles chiming in the rays of swollen sunlight. I scream words like angry sirens saving the ****** Flickering blue and red lights like beacons of hope. I gossip words like filthy false rumors circulating the grapevine Untrue words that hurt like a right hook to the jaw. I flirt words like coy like touches to your open heart Persuading you with my talented charm. I concede words like hidden meanings in secret code Like unwritten rules and unspoken feelings. I brave words with harsh undertones like I’m bitter Saying exactly what I think and feel, no holding back. My voice is strong, My voice is true, My voice is my own, and I will let it be heard.
0
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
Voice
I am stooped against the cool glass of my window with a cigarette resting between my chapped lips. I watch as the smoke wafts and curls through the changing autumn air. A million thoughts are dancing through my tired mind but I cannot settle on one. I think about the person I am to become in the coming months. It is these moments of quiet contemplation that I cherish these days. My soul and my over worked heart seem to be shifting and growing each passing minute. I find myself constantly wondering who I am and uncertain if I have found the last piece to the puzzle of my identity. Each step I take leads me down a different path and even though I feel lost on this winding trail I still believe I am headed in the right direction. I want to live in each moment. I dream about digging my toes into white, soft sand as the sweet scent of ocean air fills my lungs and twists and twirls through my auburn hair. But dreams aren’t real. This moment is real. I hear the rushing sounds of this urban evening. I smell the crisp smell of the smoldering tobacco. I see the twinkle of far away city lights between the branches of the swaying trees. I feel a million different emotions pulsating through my veins at once; A sliver of happiness, a twinge of regret, a wrench of pain, and a surge of hope. Sometimes I sit here simply to remind myself of the vibrant life that exists outside of the confines of these white washed walls and cinderblock ceilings. Sometimes I sit here to remind myself that I am still alive.
0
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
A Moment
I am stooped against the cool glass of my window with a cigarette resting between my chapped lips. I watch as the smoke wafts and curls through the changing autumn air. A million thoughts are dancing through my tired mind but I cannot settle on one. I think about the person I am to become in the coming months. It is these moments of quiet contemplation that I cherish these days. My soul and my over worked heart seem to be shifting and growing each passing minute. I find myself constantly wondering who I am and uncertain if I have found the last piece to the puzzle of my identity. Each step I take leads me down a different path and even though I feel lost on this winding trail I still believe I am headed in the right direction. I want to live in each moment. I dream about digging my toes into white, soft sand as the sweet scent of ocean air fills my lungs and twists and twirls through my auburn hair. But dreams aren’t real. This moment is real. I hear the rushing sounds of this urban evening. I smell the crisp smell of the smoldering tobacco. I see the twinkle of far away city lights between the branches of the swaying trees. I feel a million different emotions pulsating through my veins at once; A sliver of happiness, a twinge of regret, a wrench of pain, and a surge of hope. Sometimes I sit here simply to remind myself of the vibrant life that exists outside of the confines of these white washed walls and cinderblock ceilings. Sometimes I sit here to remind myself that I am still alive.
Continue reading...
19
The air feels smooth and cool as I draw in a refreshing breath. Fall has fallen on this urban land and the leaves dance in the wind. It’s awfully amazing how alive the dying season can seem, Like a city going down in flames of ginger, crimson and gold Almost like a stunning disaster, the beauty in the down fall. The yellow sun seeps down through the shedding trees, Like a beacon of hope that the green foliage will return again. Autumn, the time for poetry and knowledge Unlike its newly completed companion, summer, A time for playfulness and sweet love. It is a bright flicker of color before the world is wrapped in white Like the lick of a candle before the flame is extinguished And the curling smoke cascades upwards into darkness. It is the final call of the reddened cardinals Before the silence of winter envelope us for a handful of chilled months. As the atmosphere grows icy and noses turn to a timid shade of pink, And fair skinned fingers are slipped into toasty gloves We recognize that this fading season is a fresh beginning. A time for new things and new people A time for bad habits and old obsessions to die away. Autumn is the last desperate breath before this hell freezes over.
0
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
Seasonings
Those who are good at loving leave no bad blood between enemies. Those who are good at dreaming leaving nothing of substance in their reality. Those who are good at living bathe in fear of coming death. Those who are good at laughing leave no wrinkles from their frowns. Those who are good at teaching find it hard to learn their own lessons. Those who are good at writing seem to stumble upon the spoken word. Those who are good at fighting find no love in simple meaning. Those who are good at working forsake the joy of playing. Those who are good at submitting cannot stand when matter need. Those who are good at walking forget to laugh when their feet stumble. Those who are good at relaxing do not understand the freedom of running. These are fundamental mysteries.
0
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
Those
Oh, the way those subway cars rattle beneath me, Lulls me into a trance like slumber. I hear the exchanges of broken English and baby cries all around me, But I shut my eyes and will them away. For now I am no one Just a face in the crowd, another commute. But when those doors slither open And I tread out onto the platform I am yours. I travel this passage many times Just to see your glowing face in my eyes. Because I am so far in love with you I would ride that rickety old subway for hours, Just to catch a glimpse of that well toned, olive skinned body And that chiseled, handsome face, Even if only for a moment. Because even after my heart had been broken, derailed, So many times before This time is different. I have fallen head over heels, summer saluting out of control, In love with you all over again. And every time my eyes fall on that smile So full of love, and affection, and heart throbbing passion I start tumbling again. So I ride the F train To see my sweetheart And that ride is never as sweet on the way back.
0
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
The F Train
I breathed it into my mouth And it slid down my throat Into the pit of my stomach And that raw, raw feeling Is burning my sides while I sit and pretend the world is not falling. It is an unknown substance, a feeling. I smell the air and it’s toxic And it singes my lungs and Makes my eyes spill tears. I am horrified and exhilarated all at once The emotion is pure and clean and real Like the world around me But it’s all haze, like fog Blurry and misshapen and I try and blink it away But it’s like I’m underwater and I’m floating upside down. The world is like a kaleidoscope The pictures look different every time. I am one with every sense All five of them blazing on fire Like I was on overdrive Spinning, spinning like a tea cup at a carnival. All the while laughing like I was young again Because I feel so alive. I wish I could show you just how amazing It feels to be human.
0
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
Human
Beauty is a shield that shuts out the spinning world. A beautiful girl is nothing but a ghost. We are enthralled by the tender curves of her waist, The illuminating shine of her azure eyes, The porcelain glow of her touchable, soft skin. We see the grace in the stride of her walk, The brightness in her sweet chime of a laugh, The splendid flow of her silken auburn hair. She is nothing but a beautiful fantasy. We observe all the radiance and desire about her, But we cannot bring ourselves to speak of it. No we have not the courage to tell her, Just how her beauty makes our insides breathe life. So we recede into ourselves when she steps into our presence, Because she has us stammering and grasping for words. So this gorgeous and striking ghost drifts by without words. And because we speak not our truths to her She leads a sad existence. Being placed so high upon a pedestal, With no suitor brave enough to climb to the top And rescue her.
0
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
The Fantasy
Floating back over the state boundary line Back to a place I left not so long ago. I leave my new existence in the dust Back to my past for an epic show. My heart shudders with the anticipation Of the lost connections that I will rekindle. My tired mind is spinning so quickly Like woven thread onto a spindle. I fear that I have become too much For the place I am throwing myself into. I gave up my life and started over When I left I was certain I was through. I am flooded with hastened memories Of the shaking subway lines. I am caught in the remembrance Of forgotten good times. Pictures of familiar faces Flash behind my eyelids like a movie reel. Faces that I have not seen in too long Faces that have since seemed unreal. They still see me as the sad girl With her broken heart in a sling But I left that sullen person behind When I left behind everything. They try and quiet their rejection Of my escape of this place. But their silent words speak so loud In opposition to my case. But even with the combination Of fear and forthcoming excitement This reunion is sure to be sweet and sad Just as it was when I went.
0
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
The First Return