Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Inhale all of those felt bones. Observe. Skeletons will dance in the dark for you..

Hang them up. Tilt your head. Curl your hair. Bite your lip. Wonder at them, feel them

as a thing
too.

Wonder at
how they
diminish us
with such
gentle clinks
of their being.
ask god how long it takes to decide on a language. remember the dead bear. the sleepy spoon. ask the soul about its weakness for image.
I think of the wind. how all it can do is ask for mercy. do you know my mom? my sister? my daughter has a pet that disappears when famous. sadness has no opposite.
/ not that I have two birds
but that I ask
for the stone
back

/ nothingness
edited
for space
I don't think I've actually written a poem
It's always felt as if I was rather discovering it as I went along
I don't know...
It would just be nice
If for once
They noticed my heart or my mind
Before my body...
You know?
Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey
Well hello there again
I haven't seen you in a while
This feels all the same
Just like when I was a child
The past coming to visit. This one person used to be my weakness.
Next page