Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Wind whips, whistling in the seat belt, Crooning along to the emotional ululations As I succumb to the emphatically teenager-like emotions, Grand in their extremity, Both realizing and fully embracing the cliché-ness And dramatization of every quip, gesture, glance. My mood soars irrationally with the voraciousness of my tires, Devouring every granule of cement at velocities upwards Of 30 miles per hour. Jason Mraz and I make an excellent duet, As I’m quite certain the disgruntled woman a lane over At the stoplight thinks as well. He sings of skies “getting rough” And I allow my eyes to wander to our own ominous clouds, Creeping from the east like panthers prowling in search of prey; I appreciate their slate undertones and umber rumples, The gold shining from behind and within, tinting their edges, But I turn my attentions slowly, with a bittersweet notion, To their fluffy brethren, friends of Magritte, Iridescent and captivating as they weave among the rays.
0
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Ride Home from a Long Week
Wind whips, whistling in the seat belt, Crooning along to the emotional ululations As I succumb to the emphatically teenager-like emotions, Grand in their extremity, Both realizing and fully embracing the cliché-ness And dramatization of every quip, gesture, glance. My mood soars irrationally with the voraciousness of my tires, Devouring every granule of cement at velocities upwards Of 30 miles per hour. Jason Mraz and I make an excellent duet, As I’m quite certain the disgruntled woman a lane over At the stoplight thinks as well. He sings of skies “getting rough” And I allow my eyes to wander to our own ominous clouds, Creeping from the east like panthers prowling in search of prey; I appreciate their slate undertones and umber rumples, The gold shining from behind and within, tinting their edges, But I turn my attentions slowly, with a bittersweet notion, To their fluffy brethren, friends of Magritte, Iridescent and captivating as they weave among the rays.
Possibly one of my only happy poems, written in a flurry of exuberation.
emmaline-e
Written by
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem