Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Samuel
Listen up, sweater.

   take good care of my love now

         when her joy is boundless, hop around like a fool and
         revel in the excitement of each crisp little sound

                and in the cold nights lay warm beside her, whether as
                pillow or cuddlee and be the soft whisper for hands to hold
                the mooring point for beautiful dreams

                       (you are hers while I'm away because
                             I am hers no matter where I go)

            and in that rustle of fabric, that cloth to smooth skin
            do speak my name
                                 and retain all our scents when we laughed in her
                                 arms so she'll smile and close her eyes and
                                 burrow into you

listen up, sweater.
               take good care of my love now
your fire surrounds me,
wraps me in warmth.
your arms of fire
engulf me in a safe haven.
this asylum is my home,
scars on my wrist, my keys.
I don't really know if I like this one. What do you guys think? Help.
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Amanda Miller
I wish I could cry quietly.
I wish I could cry in peace and no one would disturb me.
Instead I'm cursed by these gut-wrenching wheezes that leave me gasping for air.
I wish my cheeks didn't squeeze up when I cry.
I look like a clown, I feel like a fool.
I wish people would have the decency to leave me alone.
Instead I'm patted and pawed at like a family dog.
Poor thing. Is there anything I can do?
No. Get out.
No one knows how to cry quietly.
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Brittany Comer
This has killed me
You and her
Why would you do this
Am I just a person unwanted?
Am I not good
Pretty
Skinny enough?

She's hideous
Compare me to her
Compare a rose and a rabbits ****
It won't happen

Being tired of me
is being tired of lite
Tired of joy and hope
I tried to make you happy
But you spit in my face
Again and again
How rude
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Ed Hosking
After
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Ed Hosking
It hurts
but thats ok
its how you know you're still alive
©Ed Hosking 2010. All Rights Reserved.
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Angie Sea
I want the kind of ***
where I'm told exactly how much you want me
by the way your frame
fills in my every curve
and you touch so much of me
with your hands
and your starved eyes
I should be scared
but you'll call me beautiful
and I'll be your sweetheart
as your sweet heart beats
beats faster
and you fall into me
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
JA Doetsch
I once knew a guy who walked a thousand miles

with no shoes on his feet

     to prove his love

When he got there, she turned him down

she had found someone else

while she was waiting for him



I once knew a guy who climbed the tallest mountain

with naught but his hands and his own strength

     to prove his commitment

By the time he returned, she had moved on

she was tired of waiting for him



I once knew a guy who swam 'cross the ocean

with only the breath in his lungs

     to prove his passion

            He was eaten by a shark.

Anyway...

I won't walk across great distances for you
I won't scale rugged mountains for you
I won't swim across large bodies of water for you

But I'll totally give you a back rub later if you want
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Jessie
When I Die
 Jan 2013 Gunjan
Jessie
When I die,
I don't want to be buried.
I don't want a casket.
I don't want a tombstone.

I don't really want much of a funeral.
I simply want whomever desires
To say something about me
To do so
(Whether it's good, bad, or funny).

I want to be burned
In a cardboard box,
And as I'm being cremated,
I want someone
To read a poem that I have written
For that very occasion.

When I'm all turned to ashes,
I want them to put me
In a cheap little container
And throw my ashes into the wind.
Maybe over a field, a forest, or the ocean--
Whatever, so long as it's windy there.

Mostly,
I don't want my loved ones to have a
Specific place to visit me

Because
I want to be the one
Who visits my loved ones

So I can give them kisses
When the wind
Brushes their cheeks.
i wonder if i can put this poem in my will...
Next page