MBishop: Favorites

Aug 2014 MBishop

If

Aug 2014 MBishop

E. E. Cummings

If

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

Aug 2014 MBishop

It's Dark in Here

Aug 2014 MBishop

Shel Silverstein

It's Dark in Here

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.

Aug 2014 MBishop

The Kids are in Trouble

Aug 2014 MBishop

Joshua Haines

The Kids are in Trouble

Punk lips in perpetual paralysis,
and they're too afraid to let them kiss.
Too afraid to try to let it last
because of the blurs in their past.

I think the kids are in trouble.
Hanging out with temporary people;
making the wrong times never stop.
Smoking dreams with glass lovers
to indie sonnets and neon power pop.

The world knows they can pretend,
and it's their hearts they can't defend
from the illusion of what they could be,
and the loneliness of what they'll never see.

They skate the pavement until the sun sits,
and drink ***** from water bottles until their hurt slurs.
It's the preparation of tomorrow and what it may not bring
that makes every moment before, everything.

They're scared because it's real,
and I'm scared because they're scared.

Aug 2014 MBishop

In A Disused Graveyard

Aug 2014 MBishop

Robert Frost

In A Disused Graveyard

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
“The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay.”
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can’t help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.

Jul 2014 MBishop

Your Voice.

Jul 2014 MBishop

Xander King

Your Voice.

Your voice is stuck inside my head
like an old song I'd heard a thousand times,
It's melody once comforting
now only leaves me cold.
as bittersweet nostalgia washes over me
my mind replays the sweet nothings you once whispered in my ear.
every word carrying its own tune
but never carrying any weight
each syllable fluctuating ever so slightly
just like your emotions did
One day your words like feathers forming mighty wings to lift me up
others your words crafting cement blocks tethering my heart down
sinking to the bottom of a dark sea
each threat crashing around me like waves
throwing by body from side to side
like your hands once did

#ex #pain #abuse #cry #hurt #relationship #song #voice #ocean

Jul 2014 MBishop

Call me poetry

Jul 2014 MBishop

Born

Call me poetry

Call me a smoker
If you can read my poetry and get high on it
Call me the messenger
If you believe my poetry is talking to you
Call me a rapper
if you can create lyrics out of me
Call me a preacher
If you believe my Scriptures made you believe in God once more
Call me a taker
if you read my poetry a thousand times from different beings

Call me a pretender
If my poetry is just one of those many fictions you've read
call me a killer
if my poetry made you lose hope in love
call me a stranger
if you don't know me but we can still cling
call me a liar
if you just hate me and my poetry
call me a sister
if my poetry lived in one of your moments

Call me an executioner
if I told you that "bitter" truth you always knew but escaped
Call me a brother
if you know deep inside we are one
call me ?
If I showed you who Romeo is
Call me diary
if you read my poetry and remembered that you were here once upon a time

Call me a stalker
if my poetry is always talking about your ex
call me a friend
If my poetry told you that you love him/her very much and that's the scary part
call me a believer
if my poetry said something about judgment day
Call me a poet
if you believe am getting better at expressing myself,your world and the moment

If your reading this right now and you believe poetry is what brought us together.*call me Carter

being real

#poetry #real #trouble #trunked

Jul 2014 MBishop

For you.

Jul 2014 MBishop

calpurnia mockingbird

For you.

I will scream into the void with you. Take my hand, let me calm your fears.I will weave my words into a shelter, a place of grace for your troubled heart.

Walk with me until the stars dim forever, until the sun implodes and only dust remains. I am here with you, there with you. Let my tangled thoughts be your remedy, your darkest dreams my salvation. Take my light, for I would rather walk in darkness unending than see the weight of sorrow on your pretty brow.

You are my privilege, my haven, my friend, this will always be, as long as there is breath I will use it to sing of my wonder at your strength and my joy at your existence.

If you believe in nothing else, I beg that you believe in me

A gift for a very dear friend, in the hope that he will know that he is loved.

Jul 2014 MBishop

I Cannot Write

Jul 2014 MBishop

bones

I Cannot Write

I cannot write
I cannot find
behind the creases
of my mind
the words to fill
another line,
those words wait
out of sight
for now I
cannot write.

** hum