Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
wild and crude as oil, he can't figure what this place is, or is not. No comparative framework Just blown circuits, but what other thing can a rose garden ever be? When he grabs the baby and jams her face into the roses the pair, darting in wild spirals rose to rose to rose, his disbelief nearly topples them, and he howls “Can you ******* BELIEVE IT? He is a man having his insides dynamited out and dancing to keep from having to look His woman smiles and smokes and strolls along behind. And when her smile reaches me, not a: to keep away the bounty kinda smile but a: we are the ******* rose garden, smile . And the sudden delight comes for me on a felled swoop I did not see coming, thank god, or I’d a done a thing to get ready for it and that spoils the pudding again and again so dastard and unexpected, I make room for it, despite myself . What else is there to do but to long to be a thousand fathoms simpler, in the way that water is simpler than lemonade, simpler even than that: to smoke, if I want to. And be happy, if I can. And to love a man utterly undone by a beauty he knows no name for.
0
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
Upon finding a secret rose garden in the middle of a great fuss
wild and crude as oil, he can't figure what this place is, or is not. No comparative framework Just blown circuits, but what other thing can a rose garden ever be? When he grabs the baby and jams her face into the roses the pair, darting in wild spirals rose to rose to rose, his disbelief nearly topples them, and he howls “Can you ******* BELIEVE IT? He is a man having his insides dynamited out and dancing to keep from having to look His woman smiles and smokes and strolls along behind. And when her smile reaches me, not a: to keep away the bounty kinda smile but a: we are the ******* rose garden, smile . And the sudden delight comes for me on a felled swoop I did not see coming, thank god, or I’d a done a thing to get ready for it and that spoils the pudding again and again so dastard and unexpected, I make room for it, despite myself . What else is there to do but to long to be a thousand fathoms simpler, in the way that water is simpler than lemonade, simpler even than that: to smoke, if I want to. And be happy, if I can. And to love a man utterly undone by a beauty he knows no name for.
natalie-marie-kinsey
Written by
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem