Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
the nothing that’s out there I keep to myself. my talk talks me down. my kids laugh in sweet tooth and funny bone. I am not god’s father figure but bring anyway a nervous energy to my own birth scene. it is pretty how one manages to populate a personal hell and it is too pretty to base an image on the diary soaked but drying in a little house with a kicked-in door. some have a story and some think the having avoids the generalizing others do to clear space for space. for a hobby I’d say be stunned by the baby before it inherits separation anxiety. once, beneath a storm, be a ghost.
0
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
frontier
the nothing that’s out there I keep to myself. my talk talks me down. my kids laugh in sweet tooth and funny bone. I am not god’s father figure but bring anyway a nervous energy to my own birth scene. it is pretty how one manages to populate a personal hell and it is too pretty to base an image on the diary soaked but drying in a little house with a kicked-in door. some have a story and some think the having avoids the generalizing others do to clear space for space. for a hobby I’d say be stunned by the baby before it inherits separation anxiety. once, beneath a storm, be a ghost.
barton-d-smock
Written by
50/M/American
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem