kristopher-d-salas - Hello Poetry

The hour: the hour was grey and heavy laden The ground was cool and damp when my eye fell upon that fair maiden. A collared jacket pulled up to her chin A vague smile stretched across the ashen light as I thought about her uncharted skin. I knew that we were foreordained to dance. Her hand would be mine if given the chance. The taste of bitter wine was on my lips, and someone else's hand was placed upon her hips on that day in what was a cold sober October A bell: a bell that tolls for lost souls has me (cringe) stone white. Thirteen strikes move me closer, and I dodge each cavernous hole in my adverse plight. The name that each leaf whispers is Crisp and Wither. Her heroine eyes beckon me to come hither for I draw near and nearer, on that cold sober October The misty cold. The misty cold... 'Twould be a blazing fire within my bones if not for that ****** misty cold. Warm me now; I take thy hand with thy ring that I place upon thee from the kiss of the sea. One day I too will greet thy queen and upon her sleeve she will bear my love as we walk down that isle on All Hallows' Eve. I take thy hand and place upon thee the kiss of my sea. All is naught or ill forgot; for I stand ***** upon that plot that dear October bought. Filling my head with sense and thought and hoping my love would soon be sought upon that tomb that I too will rot. In the misty cold, crisped and withered, toiled and rot; I want her mine but she is not. So here I am, hungover in that Bleak sober October.

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Oct 24, 2016

Oct 24, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC

Sober October: A Poe[M]

The hour: the hour was grey and heavy laden The ground was cool and damp when my eye fell upon that fair maiden. A collared jacket pulled up to her chin A vague smile stretched across the ashen light as I thought about her uncharted skin. I knew that we were foreordained to dance. Her hand would be mine if given the chance. The taste of bitter wine was on my lips, and someone else's hand was placed upon her hips on that day in what was a cold sober October A bell: a bell that tolls for lost souls has me (cringe) stone white. Thirteen strikes move me closer, and I dodge each cavernous hole in my adverse plight. The name that each leaf whispers is Crisp and Wither. Her heroine eyes beckon me to come hither for I draw near and nearer, on that cold sober October The misty cold. The misty cold... 'Twould be a blazing fire within my bones if not for that ****** misty cold. Warm me now; I take thy hand with thy ring that I place upon thee from the kiss of the sea. One day I too will greet thy queen and upon her sleeve she will bear my love as we walk down that isle on All Hallows' Eve. I take thy hand and place upon thee the kiss of my sea. All is naught or ill forgot; for I stand ***** upon that plot that dear October bought. Filling my head with sense and thought and hoping my love would soon be sought upon that tomb that I too will rot. In the misty cold, crisped and withered, toiled and rot; I want her mine but she is not. So here I am, hungover in that Bleak sober October.

29

How crazy do I have to be in order to follow you? I've been thinking about the absurd (those that you have claimed to be your people) and it terrifies me. I could never **** my son for you...I mean I don't have one. But if I did...I don't think I could. Would you be so ludicrous to ask that of me? I guess I'll have to wait and see. How could I ever tell people about you speaking to me from shrubbery. Out of tongues of fire came a discovery of courage and fight, and I don't believe that would have been me on that night. I don't think my arch could understand that you would need it to march 13 times around a wall, give a shout and watch that cities defenses fall. You would have a man take his 32,000 down to just 300, so everyone would know that it was God to whom these people were hunted. I could never be a man with such long hair that would wield an ***** jaw to slay an army while my peers stood in awe. The fact that you would speak to a boy while he sleeps... to call him into service. Or have a king shaped like a shepherd, sling a rock that would leave a giants body-less head, peppered. Even watching your master leave this world in a chariot pinned to a whirlwind of fire...is bonkers! What of a guy that would rebuild a wall on a pagan kings dollar so that one day men and women gripping palm branches could holler. Three boys refusing to bow down because they had a faith that was earnest, yet they stood tall when they walked out of that fiery furnace. You see, all these people have their place (however) there is one that struck a cord...today more than ever. A man that made his listeners shiver, “prepare ye the way” he would shout from the edge of the river. “Hairy and howling” was this mans attributes. Leery and crowding were the peoples contributes. His fuel was wild honey and mouth full of focus. What's my prognosis? He was only always ferocious. On the day of his death he had burning passion for you, until a king took his head because his life was a little askew. Those that follow are erratic and I'm quickly finding out my life doesn't contain that kind of static. I can see that in order for me to be sporadic, I need you to do some spring cleaning in my attic. How crazy do I have to be to follow you? Easy, crazy enough to believe you can bring me through. Crazy enough to see that the underlying definition for a believer such as me... is cuckoo.

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Mar 17, 2016

Mar 17, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC

A Crazy Prayer of Faith

How crazy do I have to be in order to follow you? I've been thinking about the absurd (those that you have claimed to be your people) and it terrifies me. I could never **** my son for you...I mean I don't have one. But if I did...I don't think I could. Would you be so ludicrous to ask that of me? I guess I'll have to wait and see. How could I ever tell people about you speaking to me from shrubbery. Out of tongues of fire came a discovery of courage and fight, and I don't believe that would have been me on that night. I don't think my arch could understand that you would need it to march 13 times around a wall, give a shout and watch that cities defenses fall. You would have a man take his 32,000 down to just 300, so everyone would know that it was God to whom these people were hunted. I could never be a man with such long hair that would wield an ***** jaw to slay an army while my peers stood in awe. The fact that you would speak to a boy while he sleeps... to call him into service. Or have a king shaped like a shepherd, sling a rock that would leave a giants body-less head, peppered. Even watching your master leave this world in a chariot pinned to a whirlwind of fire...is bonkers! What of a guy that would rebuild a wall on a pagan kings dollar so that one day men and women gripping palm branches could holler. Three boys refusing to bow down because they had a faith that was earnest, yet they stood tall when they walked out of that fiery furnace. You see, all these people have their place (however) there is one that struck a cord...today more than ever. A man that made his listeners shiver, “prepare ye the way” he would shout from the edge of the river. “Hairy and howling” was this mans attributes. Leery and crowding were the peoples contributes. His fuel was wild honey and mouth full of focus. What's my prognosis? He was only always ferocious. On the day of his death he had burning passion for you, until a king took his head because his life was a little askew. Those that follow are erratic and I'm quickly finding out my life doesn't contain that kind of static. I can see that in order for me to be sporadic, I need you to do some spring cleaning in my attic. How crazy do I have to be to follow you? Easy, crazy enough to believe you can bring me through. Crazy enough to see that the underlying definition for a believer such as me... is cuckoo.

28

Sometimes you segregate your cereal. Sometimes you cringe at meat. Sometimes you hide you face in your hands when you're embarrassed, sad or see someone's feet. Sometimes you're so cute I want to put you in my pocket. Sometimes these picture frames are perfect, I wish I could click a button and lock it. Sometimes you cry. Sometimes you dream. Sometimes we don't talk and it makes me want to scream. Sometimes you put your feet on my dash and leave little marks of dirt. Sometimes when you're not here, I look at them and it makes loneliness hurt. Sometimes you treat me better than you should Sometimes you make this life seem too good. Sometimes you hold my hand and we get caught. Sometimes you fit better in my world than I would have ever thought. Sometimes the way you smile is my favorite thing. Sometimes if I weren't a poet, I'd write you a song that we could sing. Sometimes you go through packs of gum like an addiction. Sometimes our hearts beat with motions of friction. Sometimes you take pictures of various birds. Sometimes I hope you fall in love with my words. Sometimes you worry and you seem a bit frantic So I'll always be there to kiss your forehead because sometimes I'm a hopeless romantic.

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Feb 1, 2016

Feb 1, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC

Sometimes a Hopeless Romantic

Sometimes you segregate your cereal. Sometimes you cringe at meat. Sometimes you hide you face in your hands when you're embarrassed, sad or see someone's feet. Sometimes you're so cute I want to put you in my pocket. Sometimes these picture frames are perfect, I wish I could click a button and lock it. Sometimes you cry. Sometimes you dream. Sometimes we don't talk and it makes me want to scream. Sometimes you put your feet on my dash and leave little marks of dirt. Sometimes when you're not here, I look at them and it makes loneliness hurt. Sometimes you treat me better than you should Sometimes you make this life seem too good. Sometimes you hold my hand and we get caught. Sometimes you fit better in my world than I would have ever thought. Sometimes the way you smile is my favorite thing. Sometimes if I weren't a poet, I'd write you a song that we could sing. Sometimes you go through packs of gum like an addiction. Sometimes our hearts beat with motions of friction. Sometimes you take pictures of various birds. Sometimes I hope you fall in love with my words. Sometimes you worry and you seem a bit frantic So I'll always be there to kiss your forehead because sometimes I'm a hopeless romantic.

22

Late September creeps and greets like an old friend Now we know we've reached Summers End Lawnmowers rest as a rakes job is about to begin- A crisp breeze (like a lover) caresses my chin And now we know we've reached Summers End The leaves I see are turning from green to a sickly yellow- Autumn around the bend Now we know we've reached Summers End Flipflops for boots- tank tops for sweaters Soon our mailboxes will be filled with holiday letters Fireflies play a Mason Jar Melody, Scarecrows orchestrate a beautiful harmony, Forcing summertide to yield in jealousy A foretaste of past recollection, An embrace of the years reflection To hard to comprehend We've reached Summers End.

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Sep 18, 2015

Sep 18, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC

Summers End- A Mason Jar Melody

Late September creeps and greets like an old friend Now we know we've reached Summers End Lawnmowers rest as a rakes job is about to begin- A crisp breeze (like a lover) caresses my chin And now we know we've reached Summers End The leaves I see are turning from green to a sickly yellow- Autumn around the bend Now we know we've reached Summers End Flipflops for boots- tank tops for sweaters Soon our mailboxes will be filled with holiday letters Fireflies play a Mason Jar Melody, Scarecrows orchestrate a beautiful harmony, Forcing summertide to yield in jealousy A foretaste of past recollection, An embrace of the years reflection To hard to comprehend We've reached Summers End.

17

If I were a cup of black coffee you take me just the way I am. If this were a thanksgiving dinner you'd be the turkey and I'd be the ham. I'm the water and you're the sea I'm the sailor and what I really mean is; you complete me. If this were a battery you'd be the positives and I'd be the negatives. If I were a holiday you'd be the festive's. If this were space you'd be the stars that form my galaxy. If I were a driver in New York, you'd be my taxi. If I a flower and you the bee, then it's clear to see that what I really mean is; you complete me. One ways, u-turns, dead ends and yields, green lights, left lane merge and a squashed bug on my windshields. If I were a Bic ballpoint pen then you would write out every sin. If this were it, it would be the greatest love there has ever been. Road signs and paper, fantasies and nature cannot help to say in such a little way that all I try to convey that what I really mean is; you complete me. If I were a song you'd memorize my lyrics If this were February 1990 it would be Hold On by Wilson Phillips If I were a comic book, you'd be my nerd. If you were a photographer I'd be your bird. If I a cold night and you the book by a fire, then I'd be the Hobbit and you'd be my Shire. If I a cup and you the tea then all there is left to say is...

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Feb 10, 2015

Feb 10, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC

Complete: A Valentines Day Poem

If I were a cup of black coffee you take me just the way I am. If this were a thanksgiving dinner you'd be the turkey and I'd be the ham. I'm the water and you're the sea I'm the sailor and what I really mean is; you complete me. If this were a battery you'd be the positives and I'd be the negatives. If I were a holiday you'd be the festive's. If this were space you'd be the stars that form my galaxy. If I were a driver in New York, you'd be my taxi. If I a flower and you the bee, then it's clear to see that what I really mean is; you complete me. One ways, u-turns, dead ends and yields, green lights, left lane merge and a squashed bug on my windshields. If I were a Bic ballpoint pen then you would write out every sin. If this were it, it would be the greatest love there has ever been. Road signs and paper, fantasies and nature cannot help to say in such a little way that all I try to convey that what I really mean is; you complete me. If I were a song you'd memorize my lyrics If this were February 1990 it would be Hold On by Wilson Phillips If I were a comic book, you'd be my nerd. If you were a photographer I'd be your bird. If I a cold night and you the book by a fire, then I'd be the Hobbit and you'd be my Shire. If I a cup and you the tea then all there is left to say is...

19

I wanna sit on a cloud I wanna be surrounded by the white fluffy condensation I wanna meet and greet every dinosaur at 3000 and 1 feet. I wanna wave to a bunny that's eating a jar of honey I wanna speak to a whale and ride on its tail I wanna say hello to a sailboat and quickly note how fast it turns into a mess. I wanna hug a squishy grey one so lonely from pain and squeeze it so hard that it starts to rain. I wanna look down at the ground and see all the people scramble around with no way to decipher between those who are lost and those who are found I wanna lean back and relax in giant white sack and let my worries drift away with the breeze I wanna feel at ease sitting on this chair of the sky floating on by with my imagination and realization that I wanna sit on a cloud

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Dec 3, 2013

Dec 3, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC

Cumulus Humilis

I wanna sit on a cloud I wanna be surrounded by the white fluffy condensation I wanna meet and greet every dinosaur at 3000 and 1 feet. I wanna wave to a bunny that's eating a jar of honey I wanna speak to a whale and ride on its tail I wanna say hello to a sailboat and quickly note how fast it turns into a mess. I wanna hug a squishy grey one so lonely from pain and squeeze it so hard that it starts to rain. I wanna look down at the ground and see all the people scramble around with no way to decipher between those who are lost and those who are found I wanna lean back and relax in giant white sack and let my worries drift away with the breeze I wanna feel at ease sitting on this chair of the sky floating on by with my imagination and realization that I wanna sit on a cloud

19

Cold summer afternoon, the sun falls through my half opened blinds and I wonder... Wait. Think. Patiently stop and ask myself... "Why" in the midst of conversing do I constantly think about you? Or how when a female walks by my mind wanders into this deep, deep oblivion of sunshine and...whatever your favorite flower is. I see her smile all the while I say nothing for fear of you never smiling at me again. With this pen I will write you every love letter you have never gotten Gone, but I'll sign the bottom with... L O V E Is a thing that you have never known to little of. Your unmarked face of beauty, girl they're not even close when they call you a cutie. From your freckles to your perfect eyes as they smile. Let me be your wondering crocodile, swimming back and forth keeping you from harm Your protector. The projector of a love that demands a voice Make your final choice These lands have I scouted far and wide Lest I should be doubted I could find you in a room that was crowed Clouded was my judgment about you Sprouted has my love for you Rerouted are my thoughts because they only think of you You're my super glue. The one I will always hold on to. You will be my mother bird and I will be your nest. You will be my queen and I will show you who's best. I have never found someone like you someone where I Stop patiently, think...wait and wonder about this girl whose thumb I'm under.

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Dec 3, 2013

Dec 3, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC

Pressures of the Thumb

Cold summer afternoon, the sun falls through my half opened blinds and I wonder... Wait. Think. Patiently stop and ask myself... "Why" in the midst of conversing do I constantly think about you? Or how when a female walks by my mind wanders into this deep, deep oblivion of sunshine and...whatever your favorite flower is. I see her smile all the while I say nothing for fear of you never smiling at me again. With this pen I will write you every love letter you have never gotten Gone, but I'll sign the bottom with... L O V E Is a thing that you have never known to little of. Your unmarked face of beauty, girl they're not even close when they call you a cutie. From your freckles to your perfect eyes as they smile. Let me be your wondering crocodile, swimming back and forth keeping you from harm Your protector. The projector of a love that demands a voice Make your final choice These lands have I scouted far and wide Lest I should be doubted I could find you in a room that was crowed Clouded was my judgment about you Sprouted has my love for you Rerouted are my thoughts because they only think of you You're my super glue. The one I will always hold on to. You will be my mother bird and I will be your nest. You will be my queen and I will show you who's best. I have never found someone like you someone where I Stop patiently, think...wait and wonder about this girl whose thumb I'm under.

37

Mirror, Mirror on my wall You never answer when I call I stand here with a blank hollow stare, wondering why you never ask nor even care. Alone my thoughts provoke, every bad decision, every mistake, each incision that I start to c h o k e. Mirror, mirror on my wall you never write you never call Leaving me here alone in this reflective hall. I speak and smile to your face. You lay your hand on my hard glass case, hoping that doubt and fear one day you will chase. Mirror, mirror its hard to say but you were my only friend that stayed and now you too have gone away. ______F a l l i n g, falling from my wall I clearly see you reflect [no]thing... n o t h i n g.... at all.

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Sep 11, 2013

Sep 11, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror on my wall You never answer when I call I stand here with a blank hollow stare, wondering why you never ask nor even care. Alone my thoughts provoke, every bad decision, every mistake, each incision that I start to c h o k e. Mirror, mirror on my wall you never write you never call Leaving me here alone in this reflective hall. I speak and smile to your face. You lay your hand on my hard glass case, hoping that doubt and fear one day you will chase. Mirror, mirror its hard to say but you were my only friend that stayed and now you too have gone away. ______F a l l i n g, falling from my wall I clearly see you reflect [no]thing... n o t h i n g.... at all.

30

I saw the first leaf of Autumn and couldn't help but think... Is a tree grateful for its leaves when its got 'em? Does a tree miss its leaf when it falls? Does cry when when it calls "that one, that one there was my favorite."? Does it slouch, staring at the ground, heart breaking with each pound? Does it count them as they fall? Does it even miss them at all? Does it say 45...46...47... I know if I were a tree... my leaves would be a taste of heaven Sweet shade in the blistering heat Such colors, I would be so neat I would hold you tight pushing away any fright of... The Fall I would never let you leave, never let you be shaken My sweet leaf, you are mistaken if you think that you don't matter Without you this tree would not clatter What is a tree without its splendor, what is a branch if it has no grandeur If you my leaf should you fall, then I would stand here nothing more than a beaten... tired rag doll If you are gone then my branches, my trunk would be in a orchard of loneliness...sunk.

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Sep 5, 2013

Sep 5, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC

The Fall

I saw the first leaf of Autumn and couldn't help but think... Is a tree grateful for its leaves when its got 'em? Does a tree miss its leaf when it falls? Does cry when when it calls "that one, that one there was my favorite."? Does it slouch, staring at the ground, heart breaking with each pound? Does it count them as they fall? Does it even miss them at all? Does it say 45...46...47... I know if I were a tree... my leaves would be a taste of heaven Sweet shade in the blistering heat Such colors, I would be so neat I would hold you tight pushing away any fright of... The Fall I would never let you leave, never let you be shaken My sweet leaf, you are mistaken if you think that you don't matter Without you this tree would not clatter What is a tree without its splendor, what is a branch if it has no grandeur If you my leaf should you fall, then I would stand here nothing more than a beaten... tired rag doll If you are gone then my branches, my trunk would be in a orchard of loneliness...sunk.

22

If I were a superhero and had any power in the world I would have... Super Speed, anything you need I could be there in a FLASH! No second thought...no maybe or not, I would be there super fast. Though, that's too obvious. No, I would pick... Super Hearing, that would be my choice, I would tune it ONLY to your voice and know the moment you were in distress. That would be good I guess... No, not that either. I would pick... Super Flight, so that every night I could take you to the stars (though the air might be tight) it would be super right. No. I would pick... Super Linguist, so I can speak every word, noun and verb into your ear in a feeble attempt to dry up each tear. No, I would pick time travel and go to the moment you were first sad. I would have super vision to see you on the days you are glad. Telepathy to know how you feel. Super strength to move ANY mountain... when you need healed. Forgive me for this, it may be a bit extreme. What you need is not a superhero by anyway shape or means ...what you need is a hug. Yes, that's it! If I were a superhero and had any power in the world...it would be Super Hug. I would hug you so tight till all doubt has left your mind every night. I would hold you in my arms till you knew your worth. No, I can't save the Earth with a hug, I can't change everyone's life with my embrace. But just in case ...I will start with you, I will hug you regardless. In my arms your petite body will be cocooned till the sun turns in to the moon. I will hold your neck while you head rests on my chest. I will put in CHECK... every thought, pain and neglect with the only power, enchantment and medicine that I posses... My hug.

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Aug 21, 2013

Aug 21, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC

Superhero (Hug Poem)

If I were a superhero and had any power in the world I would have... Super Speed, anything you need I could be there in a FLASH! No second thought...no maybe or not, I would be there super fast. Though, that's too obvious. No, I would pick... Super Hearing, that would be my choice, I would tune it ONLY to your voice and know the moment you were in distress. That would be good I guess... No, not that either. I would pick... Super Flight, so that every night I could take you to the stars (though the air might be tight) it would be super right. No. I would pick... Super Linguist, so I can speak every word, noun and verb into your ear in a feeble attempt to dry up each tear. No, I would pick time travel and go to the moment you were first sad. I would have super vision to see you on the days you are glad. Telepathy to know how you feel. Super strength to move ANY mountain... when you need healed. Forgive me for this, it may be a bit extreme. What you need is not a superhero by anyway shape or means ...what you need is a hug. Yes, that's it! If I were a superhero and had any power in the world...it would be Super Hug. I would hug you so tight till all doubt has left your mind every night. I would hold you in my arms till you knew your worth. No, I can't save the Earth with a hug, I can't change everyone's life with my embrace. But just in case ...I will start with you, I will hug you regardless. In my arms your petite body will be cocooned till the sun turns in to the moon. I will hold your neck while you head rests on my chest. I will put in CHECK... every thought, pain and neglect with the only power, enchantment and medicine that I posses... My hug.

31