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3.9k · Oct 2014
Ghost
Sierra Earle Oct 2014
You live in my head
Not under my bed

All of the things I didn't do
Manifests into you

Look into my hollow eyes
You will see a ghostly surprise

All and all
After fall
I should not feel a thing
At all
1.6k · Nov 2015
Literary Embroidery
Sierra Earle Nov 2015
These words, they conglomerate
on the page
loosely tied together
by the date
the sharpest needle
and
the finest thread
could not stitch them together
I have tried
many times
I have stabbed myself
many times
but
scraps of sting
unused words lay
loosely distorting an unforeseen design
but
if you squint
posses an open mind
then the words will seem to tighten
Could someone tell me how poetry slams work? How long are the poems supposed to be? What type of poetry is read at those types of events?
1.2k · Nov 2014
The Bough of a Tree
Sierra Earle Nov 2014
The bough of the tree
extends in such a way
that would imply
it wants another tree to hold
but,
in a way
it is grasping
for its mother;
sun.
Just like when
a baby extends
its tiny arm
towards a giant
mom.
Sierra Earle Nov 2014
A minty ball of air
that was her candy cane breath
filled the space between us.
Her warmth was welcomed
from the frigid seat
that was in the back
of her 94' Pontiac.
It proved to be
a magnificent scene
for a Christmas affair.
Innocent as an angel,
crooning the songs they new well.
You came so naturally
like the desire to have more.
Your brown hair
as precious as a reindeer's
coaxed me so deviously
into running my fingers through it.
But alas,
you had on a hat,
so I threw it on the floor
of your Pontiac 94'.
There it lay to this day
because you exist
no more.
I know its not even Thanksgiving yet but it is never too early to start writing stupid winter/Christmas poems
433 · Oct 2014
Life
Sierra Earle Oct 2014
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
lowered into the ground goodbye, love
This is a haiku, its non traditional like art should be.
417 · Nov 2014
Dorothy
Sierra Earle Nov 2014
When I look into
the still blue
that is
your eyes
I see desire
burning like a blue fire
beneath that
thick skull
fertile pink soil grows
flowers
thoughts that are blooming
colored by emotion
yellow, happy, dandelions
fill the knoll
but over yonder
there is a dark side
blackened with angst
for these thoughts
follow the sun
you don’t deserve
a single one
411 · Jan 2018
Poor With Tragedy
Sierra Earle Jan 2018
Sitting in circles counting our dimes
Holding tiny pieces of plastic close
To my heart, I say slow
To my mind, I say keep racing
We must hope to stumble upon a solution
We must hope

But these are quite hard times
And there is no face not morose
With my heart, I weep
With my mind, I catastrophize
Everything is really that terrible
It truly is

When one is so poor to dwell upon crimes
Little that is gained used to overdose
And I hope my heart stops beating
And I hope my mind quits thinking
This is not solving any problems
Tragedy of pauper
(When you sell the drugs to save yourself but end up killing urself)

— The End —