Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bury me high on Sugarloaf Mountain
in a mule chest made of pine.
I'm not looking for anything special,
just a simple prayer is fine.
When I'm standing in God's great glory,
when I reach the promised land,
I hope He says "Well done faithful servant,
you're a real good Christian man.".
It's funny how you pretend
that you never called me
when I failed to pick up the phone.
It's funny how you deny
the fact that, in a moment,
you needed to hear my voice.
It's funny how you forget
that my phone has caller ID,
but I could not see it then.
It's funny that I left said phone
sitting on the front seat of my car,
even as I wished that you would call.
It's funny that I fell asleep,
around the time you called,
and dreamed of you kissing me.
Or, perhaps it's not funny at all.
Perhaps, it is sad that, in the end,
we both ended the evening alone.
 Jul 2013 White Owl
speakeasied
Rhyme not, my friends,
and try your best to make your
words out of little to no sense.
In sense you will find yourself
drowning in organization,
and we all know what organization
will eventually change into:
the word that refuses to be spoken
on the lips of those with a creative mind;
but here, I'll say it, just for you
in hopes that you'll shy from it too.
Structure.
Oh, Lord of Poetry, forgive me
for I have sinned
I swear, on Whitman, I'll never
say it again.
But you, my friend, keep that in mind.
Nonsensical words that lack organization
and then, then, you can call it
poetry.
 Jul 2013 White Owl
speakeasied
2 am
 Jul 2013 White Owl
speakeasied
girls that stay awake until 2 am
leave mascara scars on sheets
and write their poems in pen
i know this because i am them
and they are me
and in the end, we are we
pardon me if i don't
make much of any sense
(it's 2 am)
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hugo A
Frozen
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hugo A
Bright reds
Yellows and blues
What a beautiful garden
As I stand at my window
I look
I smell
I smile
What joy
Why not me?
Spring all around
My glacier home
Soft rose petals
Bright tulips rise high
With tangled roots
Painting of life
On every wall
Of my room
Children play
In the distance
Their joy touches the windows
Their smiles too far
To melt this frozen cage
Tears of ice
Too distant from it all
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hulio
It's hard to know what to say,
when you won't say anything at all.
Here we are, feelings from months ago.
I can't help but feel stuck,
somewhere between here and there.

This is it, this is it.
I want to feel close to you,
but I don't know where to begin.
We have no choice.

I can not heave my heart into my mind.
I have no choice, I have no right way.
I can not explain my heart to myself

So I hope I can explain it to you.
But if I can't;
know that it belongs to your heart.
For you're the only one it beats for.
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hulio
Words
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hulio
I see nothing more than what I want
How great this is and what is now
Nothing more than mindless words
My feelings, written on this pad
Expression with a tolence for emotion
Nothing more than what already is
Everything is relative
Everything is anything with a twist of something
Forever and ever is not to be
When time traps life in ways it will not find its way out
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hulio
Utterance
 Jul 2013 White Owl
Hulio
Words written down
But they won't stay
Mountains moved
In a whole new way

Words spoken a loud
Cannot be taken back
Crystal clear
But conviction they lack

Words with true feeling
Come from the soul
They make your heart beat
And for moments, you're whole

Words can live
But never die
Put you in a grave
Or let you fly
Next page