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Hardened to experience
Like gum beneath a chair,
I cannot explain
This lasting hunger for simple fictions.

Yet prompt me as you tried so long ago
To imitate the joker in the balcony
Who shouts “I’m gonna be sick!”
And launches a bucketful of mushroom soup
Over the railing,
To this day I forget my only line.  
The gestures, too.  
And the sound effects?  
The mind’s ear can’t hear them anymore,
Let alone vibrate to them in Sensurround.

But I’m still slouching down in familiar dark,
Feet stuck to the floor, waiting for the previews to end,
Hoping that a moving picture conjures
Something whose absence has become
So powerful that I begin to think
It’s really the presence of something else.

The aroma of our time together
So many years ago lingers
Like the faint odor of mushroom soup.
 Jan 2016 Jana Chehab
Melissa S
The significance of the number three
Is everywhere
In religion and life
but the number three
Has a deeper meaning to me
Three sisters
Two green eyed
One brown
We are forever bound
Together
A tripod of love
Two would not do
Three is geometrically stable
The Love we share
I am eternally grateful

Sisters only we truly understand each other
because we all come from the same place
We all have been running the same crazy race

As different as we are the same
Saying things at the same time
Finishing each others sentences
As if we can read each others mind

Keeper of all my secrets
Loving me despite all my weakness

Laughter through tears
and tears through laughter
Help wipe away the tears thereafter

We will always be Sisters and Best Friends
but more importantly
We are Survivors
We can do anything
if we have each other to lean on
Our *Tripod of Love
Help me HP poets and tell me what you think of this poem please. I wanted to do a poem for my sisters for a Christmas present and this is what I have so far just let me know thoughts or suggestions
 Jan 2016 Jana Chehab
Traveler
In the foxholes
Of my childhood plight
I prayed and prayed
With all my might
Praying to be forgiven
For the imperfections
Of life
Yet these were merely
The symptoms
Of an ideology
Of either black
Or definitely white

With the rudimentary
Truths concealed
Those miracles
Seem so **** real
I could never lose
My faith
In that childhood
Holding place

When the years pass
In deep thought
Ultimate conclusions
Result

Each of us
An eye
From different views
Allegiance forged
In the comfort of norm
Evolutionary rules
Oh how I miss you
Invisible spirit being
Oh my contemporary
Youth...
Traveler Tim
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