Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thomas W Case Apr 25
I found this
old hat at
the Salvation Army.
I liked it, it fit well;
kind of Sinatraesque.
I've received lots
of compliments.

But it doesn't stop the
cats from screeching in
the night.
It can't quench my
It will never bring
my Mom and Dad back.
It's just a hat.

It can't fix my
relationship- it won't
break the horse or
Lautrec's legs.
It won't give Vincent
his cobalt blue dreams or
give back Poe's
Annabelle Lee.
it's my hat and
I like it.
Chandler M Jan 29
What hat should I wear today?
It changes every day
Garrett Johnson Oct 2019

The candy lights won’t come back on.
My boots have been swallowed.
The table cloth chess players.
Roped into hallowing out their arms.
It’s ok the blankets don’t know any better.

Garrett Johnson.
Opposite loft blues
ryn Mar 2019
•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept

a lifetime•
Altar of false reassurance, symbolizing return, of the hat bearer
“Home is where you hang your hat.”
How many of you have the hat bearer hung on temporary walls?
During intermittent crawls from house to home
Kelsey Dec 2018
I could write love poems for days
Yet not once have I been in love
(With someone else that is)
I could write a book of sonnets
With no one to recite them to
(Except to myself of course)
I can preach about the danger in our love
And the joys in our heartache
Because I am a Narcissist who hates myself
I am an utmost contradiction
An antithesis, an oxymoron
(or maybe just a ***** full stop)
Either way I have loved myself
The way the moon loved the sun
And yet I've destroyed myself
The way Mt Visuvius destroyed pompeii
Relentless, and still gentle,
A beautifully tragic mess.
Self love turns to self hate
With the flip of a switch of my bedroom lights
Light turns to dark
And I turn into my own worst nightmare
Becoming my own demons
And when morning comes
And I'm so bloodied and bruised,
Ill nurse my broken body tenderly
Reviving my former self
I'll look in the mirror and see
The only friend, the only lover, the only person
That has ever stayed
And i'll remember why I love who I am
And how I am strong,
Stronger than my demons,
Than my own thoughts ,
And stronger than myself.
8M Dec 2018
The girl who walked on water
I have found her sweater
She said, "Give it back,"
"Or I'll take your hat!"
Maybe it wasn't for the better
Next page