matt4a - Hello Poetry

You can sum up the world with a man building a tower you can sum up the world with a girl picking a flower you can sum up with world with a boy running wild you can sum up the world with a woman kissing a child

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Oct 27, 2014

Oct 27, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC

matt4a

Untitled #2

You can sum up the world with a man building a tower you can sum up the world with a girl picking a flower you can sum up with world with a boy running wild you can sum up the world with a woman kissing a child

4

I see it all under the blue bus fluoros watch the street signs pass by, and just as common the lowly and the lofty, the pigeons that sleep on the building ledges, safe from the gut of the street, and the workers that slave over a steaming bain-marie standing for hours and hours. At least it's better than the unforgiving cold of the pavement outside. The idle girl sitting at the train stop, back as straight as arrows, head askance along the tracks to a train that is nowhere near. She shows no fear, she knows these parts like she knows the bums that frequent the tavern where she works. 'They're harmless' she says 'lone rangers without a Miss Reid.'

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Oct 27, 2014

Oct 27, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC

matt4a

Untitled #1

I see it all under the blue bus fluoros watch the street signs pass by, and just as common the lowly and the lofty, the pigeons that sleep on the building ledges, safe from the gut of the street, and the workers that slave over a steaming bain-marie standing for hours and hours. At least it's better than the unforgiving cold of the pavement outside. The idle girl sitting at the train stop, back as straight as arrows, head askance along the tracks to a train that is nowhere near. She shows no fear, she knows these parts like she knows the bums that frequent the tavern where she works. 'They're harmless' she says 'lone rangers without a Miss Reid.'

8

The words that are thought but never shared between lovers that's where I want to set my tent. The emptiness of a piece of manuscript before a composer scribes their first motif the rocky landscape before the cambrian explosion the fabric that makes the dress that lifts the spirit of some lonely girl on a grey day the clay between the sculptor's fingers that's where I want to place my luggage down

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Oct 19, 2014

Oct 19, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC

matt4a

That's where I place my luggage down

The words that are thought but never shared between lovers that's where I want to set my tent. The emptiness of a piece of manuscript before a composer scribes their first motif the rocky landscape before the cambrian explosion the fabric that makes the dress that lifts the spirit of some lonely girl on a grey day the clay between the sculptor's fingers that's where I want to place my luggage down

7

As I tap away the seconds on the porch outside my house let the little moments speed by never seeing past the neighbours shadows on their curtains, drowning the thoughts need I? Need I?

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Oct 2, 2014

Oct 2, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC

matt4a

Need I?

As I tap away the seconds on the porch outside my house let the little moments speed by never seeing past the neighbours shadows on their curtains, drowning the thoughts need I? Need I?

6