Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kate May 2015
In a little pile by the bathroom,
a collection of my clothing engraved.
Though the cloth is cyclically exchanged,
the pile serves as vowed remain.
I say I keep them there in case,
but we both know it's promised trace
that any time I leave this place
there is a never-ending return.
I am whole-heartedly, undoubtably in love.
We do not live together,
but I stay there every night.
I am always here, so I keep a small collection of clothing that I leave by the bathroom door. A wall area in which I have claimed for my belongings. I keep them there in case I need to change, yes, but it is also symbolic of my return any time I leave. It is assurance that no matter what happens, I HAVE to get my things back. Almost like a promised excuse.
The clothing is "engraved" because I always leave them there, and even if I have to wash them, I leave a variety of articles "cyclically exchanged" so that the wall is never vacant.
All of the end words, except the first and the last line, are mainly like-rhyme. I used this to articulate the fluidity yet imperfectness of our love. I used words such as, "engraved, vowed, promised" to describe the pile of clothing because they are also used to describe marriage, wedding rings, etc. I am nineteen and marriage is not in my current desires, but this little pile of clothing is what I use to promise the continuation of my love. This poem is short and a pile of clothes is simple to illustrate how easy and simple our love is. We are not hung up on technicalities or societal structure but rather a realistic, honest bond.
A love as honest as laundry.
Lines 5-7 rhyme perfectly to illustrate the rhythm that two souls create as time goes on.
Kate Nov 2016
In my palm, I offer four.
Glimpsing, you ask, "Isn't there more?"
Had you accepted, you'd be sure:
Fruitful abundance was in store.
Not understanding soulful lore;
Rescinded four; a ceased sojourn.
Seeds will never grow if you stand still and ask for more.
Kate Jun 2015
The smallest things are the strongest things
As I got older I got smaller I got stronger
Boats guided by rudders
Bridges held by hinges
Trees anchored by roots
Brains fired by synapses
Depth conveyed by words
These small things these strong things these guiding things these supporting things these hidden things

— The End —