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Robyn  Jul 2013
Closeup
Robyn Jul 2013
Heroes never try too hard
A gentleman gives up
A lady shouldn't be so bothered
Take a bow, pathetic one
*This is your closeup
The Flipped Word Nov 2014
It’s a struggle waking up everyday
It’s a struggle having to smile
It’s a struggle to hold back familiar tears
I’m tired of living a lie

I entertain these bizarre thoughts
Dreams and scenarios in my head
Such a mess, such confusion
The same thing over and over again

I wish I could stop obsessing
I wish I actually had a life
God, I wish I could let you go
And finally cut all ties

But in reality, I know what I’ll do
It’s gonna be hard to closeup
I’m sick of always having around
You’re just a toy I’ll never give up
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
the banner photograph that the poem references is off now, but...

The poem is about a photo I took, outside looking in, where the window and an interior mirror, both reflected me, outside, outwards, but caught the interior of the house within, and the interior of our lives, which was my intent, but the poem came later....

a self portrait,
a reflection
in a window, in a mirror.
a man stick figure
within and without.

me hidden, armed,
iPad spyglass
one upon the other,
unaware of observation,
introspection / extrospection.

man, external,
grilling striped bass,
woman, internal,
kitchen caught slicing heirlooms,
a dressing awaits,
peach salsa,
the seagulls inform me.

Outdoors, indoors.
bay,
in the background.
living room, kitchen,
in the foreground
couching, crouching, cooking,
a closeup and landscape,
of two lives.

so the photo treatment,
introspection / extrospection,
upon reflection,
a poem ouside-insight.


a moment to reflect upon a reflection of a moment.

this  how I see things,
and why not you too?

Double vision.
outside, looking in, inside, looking outward.
then,
at the point of intersection,
a memory recorded,
always recording,
paths, moments,
worthy of note.

such a note, here,
record of a photograph.
preserving my preservation.
tho photo blurry,
what you see,
is what I see.
lives of symmetry

summer symmetry is my life.
life is my summer symmetry.

exactly.



August 2012
digging up seasonal inappropriate poems to warm me up.
Nathan Squiers Aug 2014
Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to *HIM
--so *clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.

Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.

HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.

Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.

Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.

Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.

I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Just a lovely little piece using filmmaking jargen as a metaphor of putting the hurt on somebody (prior to becoming an author I was studying to be a scriptwriter & director ~ though recent events are steering me back into scriptwriting once again).

Content and details are purely fictional.
Holly Penland May 2014
I was once just the moon sitting alone in a cold shadow
Then my Sun appeared,  rising and lighting me so
His warmth wraps around the earth to make me burn and shine
To be lit up and seen as beautiful is more than devine
I sat alone in cold emptiness for so long never knowing your heat
Now I am shining brightly and your burning fire never missed a beat

                                  I know you have a cycle and schedule and I do as well
Maybe if I help you and vice versa we will beat this hell
You the light, me the dark, and the earth our child in between
Who would have thought the old dark moon would become the sun’s queen?
I know that I never thought it was really a serious possibility
My life had once been meaningless, just an exercise in futility
Now I knew my purpose and was proud to be lit up by solar light
Tearing away from you during a  rare eclipse never really feels right
Somehow my lunar intuition awakened and  I am able to see
Part of being the moon and the sun is never being totally free
I exist to orbit, to serve and reflect your beautiful sunny glow
You exist to give order, give life,  and align it all just so
Sure I enjoy being an occasionally lit beacon in the starlit night sky
I willingly but willfully hand over control and never ask why
I know deep inside my moonstone core that you will always return
One lunar cycle and then I get my awesome sunburn
                          I doubted if the universe would ever designate me time and place
Then all of a sudden you pulled me in to make my suborbital with grace
You touch every rock, crater, and imperfection with with your warming light
Earth which binds and separates us sees full lunar glory some select nights
Nobody would have ever thought I was beautiful before you lit me up
But since you came along NASA created satellites just to get me closeup




I will never mind being here and reflecting the perfection of you
Besides you owning my heart and soul we get to share quite the view
When people thank me for being the moon I say thank my dear solar love
Because of you I am special and I get to be a real part of this heaven above


To Shawn, With Love
Richie Vincent  May 2018
Fever
Richie Vincent May 2018
It’s been two decades and I’m still sweating out this fever

My eyes haven’t stopped watering since my family tree fell over,
branch by branch we collapsed into the river,
rushing faster and faster to mutually assured destruction,
no one is getting out alive here

No one is getting out alive here in this world,
so we might as well get it while the going is going because one day the going is going to stop and we’ll be left holding on to as much as we can,
We’ll feel so sorry for ourselves then

I’ve walked with snakes on my shoulders for as long as I can remember,
All my hearing has amounted to hisses,
and all of my bones have broken to bend and expand to hold all of the feelings I’ve eaten

Made love with the ****** and prayed to every angel I’ve seen in my paralysis,
In my dreams I see flowers,
Red like blood,
but clean like a mended heart,
Slowly but surely I’ll likely tear myself apart

But I like it like this,
It gives me a reason to wonder,
and wander,
So I’ll continue to wonder,
and wander

We all just drink to get drunk,
We’re all just ghosts without a house to haunt,
I’ve been feeling this sickness creep up into my throat,
and it’s been drying to get out, and I think I’ll let it

I’m still learning what falling in love feels like,
Still coming to grips with realities that don’t involve bruised eyelids and unforgivable I told you so’s,
Sometimes it feels like I’m coming to the end of my rope but then it frays all over again and I’m stuck trying to wind it back up,
How selfish to think I can fix something that’s too broken

Cut to my grandmother getting dolled up for her closeup because the church taught her how to become her own messiah, now she doesn’t know how to love the right way,
I’m starting to think that none of us do

I’m starting to run with the wolves,
The moon speaks in tongues to me,
I keep asking her to take me back where I belong,
Every painting hanging in my room is blank,
Blank and powerful,
but afraid,
I’m starting to think we all are

I’ve been sweating everything out,
It’s taking longer than I want it to

I just hope that by the time I’m laying on my deathbed,
I’ll be as dry as this all bled me
Tana Young  Jul 2013
Dream Land
Tana Young Jul 2013
All my candle wax has gone down half way
In two days
When there lit I'm in such a daze

There aroma is sweet
They help me cheat
Cheat my way through life, I close my eyes under my sheet
And pretend I'm roaming the streets

Its scent intoxicates
I take the bait

Willingly
Chillingly

I'm in the world I want
Oh and trust me it taunts

I think about changing my life when I wake up
But, I know I will just closeup

In this dream land

I speak
I don't seem weak

But I come back to my senses
I throw the sheets off of me, I look around, there are my imaginary fences

I blow out my candles

I say farewell
Now back to my life, mind, that I call hell
Orion Schwalm Oct 2014
The first time in my life, I start turning the lens back into the dreams. Point the telescope a full 180 away from the moon, so the moon can see a **** good closeup of the craters on my face.
I go to sleep
                                         asking for it.

My dearest demons, tear me apart. I am ready to die. I have done everything I could...

And here you come:
                                   traipsing down the stairway to heaven, stepping extra hard
on the creaky ones.

I think it reminds you of the way I used to whine for you.

To you. My dear. MY dear.
                                              Help me God, I whisper into your ear as you     sleep,
                                              Hoping you would wake up in my dreams and save me,
                                              How the hell could a person ever feel so ******* weak.

A bitter branch, that wanted to be a tree trunk. That tried to become enormous.
That only got cut down in the end.

That's how I feel. Not what I am.
Part of the poem, not of the slam.
Separate worlds inside one room.
Wanting to capture the flower in bloom.

Enormous tree, watered regularly by the gardening company hired by the     CEO
of the real-estate company.

The only company I really have in this lonely lake of scheduled sprinklers
are gardeners giving me much more than thanks.

They cut my branches. My unsightly twigs are mulched. I share my tears with them. They take a lunch break. We're going pretty steady.
Day in. Day out. Day in. Day out. Tick tock. Lub Lub. Goodnight. Help-
Robyn  Apr 2012
She
Robyn Apr 2012
She
is not afraid of anything
not insects, crawling biting things
not mountain tops, from many fall
not heights, though very tall
not grizzly bears with claws so sharp
not steep and rocky dangerous scarps
not loneliness, although it hurts
not being stranded in dry deserts
not getting lost or feeling pain
not being stuck out in the rain
not being giving up upon
not staying awake until the dawn
not fighting or losing a good friend
not reaching her untimely end
not falling and scraping herself up
not being seen from very closeup
not losing her family or losing her phone
not living or dying completely alone
not being made out as a fool
is not afraid of anything
but you.
Ashley R Prince Aug 2012
I'll be Norma because I'm
an Old Soul,
and you'll be Joe just because
you're Joe.
However, I would
never shoot you
in my pool.
I love you enough to
let you chase after Bettys
because I know
I'm crazy like Norma Desmond
a lot of the time
and that is just not good for you.
I'm never ready for my closeup,
******.
I don't have a pool either.
Don Miller Jan 2015
A river of scents and cymbals, a closeup look at tomorrow
the land and people borrow, collaborating hymnals

Stayed inside the darkness, somewhere in there is light
sensations are like coasters,  before peace there is a fight

Paths beaten for understanding, on an imaginary cutting edge
manufacturing mental landings, between the visions there is a wedge

Impromptu races can teach us how to deceive
decoys in the mind show us what to retrieve
a blind world will never know how to conceive
a gemlike planet and a pressure relieve
J  Sep 2015
I don't even know now
J Sep 2015
I'm starting to wonder,
If you ever cared.
Beneath your smile is there something under?
Am I just a huge burden you endured.
You used to be the best in my eyes
But now you're different.
There's something you're trying to disguise.
You no longer show any sign of interest.
I know I'm annoying to everyone.
You can leave if you want to,
Leave what has already been done.
You can exit without leaving a clue
Because I won't be chasing after you,
I'm busy picking myself up
The pain I've been put through
The scars are hidden unless you go closeup
Wounds wil always heal
But scars are there forever.
It may sound surreal
But there is no error.
seriously why, bye.

— The End —