Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Can Cardinals wear secret coats? Waiting for a gray beard To cross the plains Tell us something wise Make our cries fall quiet Old hands, that they are Old hat, not so much Some of us are on rooftops And some in basements Seeming standing on the ceilings Throats open for the promised yells We can’t remember how once we uttered So instead we shudder at how shuttered Our little rooms we live in are And can only force a stutter Lank and loose with dull eyes gleaming But bored and dead unable to find the siren sound that cuts our thoughts and feelings The echoed noise of our minds weeping
0
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:04 PM UTC
Steamboat Springs
Can Cardinals wear secret coats? Waiting for a gray beard To cross the plains Tell us something wise Make our cries fall quiet Old hands, that they are Old hat, not so much Some of us are on rooftops And some in basements Seeming standing on the ceilings Throats open for the promised yells We can’t remember how once we uttered So instead we shudder at how shuttered Our little rooms we live in are And can only force a stutter Lank and loose with dull eyes gleaming But bored and dead unable to find the siren sound that cuts our thoughts and feelings The echoed noise of our minds weeping
james-banks-worsham
Written by
34/M/American
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:04 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem