Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
allan-jain-bonderPoems
i cant read so i just write i quickly become tired with your work i would much rather pace wear down the blades of grass in the familiar place i cant read because while the graces of poets philosophers and scholars make pretty the page syllables dancing atop meticulously pressed parchment while this happens through their beauty i only think of you toss the tome aside and imagine all the ways i can express the things that capture and drag the fingertips to their home back to the place where i feel full loved and laughed at where i carouse and cherish this was never about the "reads" never about the ratio of lit to likes it was only ever about me writing you love letters every day ten max though fact is, half of these ******** scrawlings these are returned to sender but crying alone is far better than pretending pretending you were never upset and begging for something you need begging doesnt only work if there is a listener i cant read i cant read our future i cant give you house keys a front or back yard a cat box a leash i cant read i write. all 106 of them garbage some think but its garbage i sealed with tears and stamped with a kiss spritzed with cologne (if i wore it) i cant read star charts memos concert bills calendars no parking signs or the expressions of cats but i can write pour out every guttural spasm scribble every inspiration leer and laugh toward a glowing screen mute and accepting of the drivel banged out below it i cant read i can write things though some things good things things see what i mean?? i cant even write. "things good things" hay-seuss x-mas!
0
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
i cant read
i cant read so i just write i quickly become tired with your work i would much rather pace wear down the blades of grass in the familiar place i cant read because while the graces of poets philosophers and scholars make pretty the page syllables dancing atop meticulously pressed parchment while this happens through their beauty i only think of you toss the tome aside and imagine all the ways i can express the things that capture and drag the fingertips to their home back to the place where i feel full loved and laughed at where i carouse and cherish this was never about the "reads" never about the ratio of lit to likes it was only ever about me writing you love letters every day ten max though fact is, half of these ******** scrawlings these are returned to sender but crying alone is far better than pretending pretending you were never upset and begging for something you need begging doesnt only work if there is a listener i cant read i cant read our future i cant give you house keys a front or back yard a cat box a leash i cant read i write. all 106 of them garbage some think but its garbage i sealed with tears and stamped with a kiss spritzed with cologne (if i wore it) i cant read star charts memos concert bills calendars no parking signs or the expressions of cats but i can write pour out every guttural spasm scribble every inspiration leer and laugh toward a glowing screen mute and accepting of the drivel banged out below it i cant read i can write things though some things good things things see what i mean?? i cant even write. "things good things" hay-seuss x-mas!
looking to hire a writing coach.... 999-888-9988 extension 666 "i like it" so i guess i win
allan-jain-bonder
Written by
allan-jain-bonder
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem