Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I'll wear your
    bones like jewelry
in my ears, like

trophies, and
like pins in
my hair.

I love you so much that
                   I wish nothing more
than for
                   you to be
with me

Check out the other poems in the "Bones" series.
This poem was written in 2016.
They're dividing up my grandmother's jewelry,
An act that feels more final than death.
I like to think she rests easy as she watches
The women she loves wear what was once hers.
They ask me to choose my top 3 pieces,
And how do I?
How do I choose which pieces of her I want to wear on my body
Like armor, like memories of made of gold or silver?
How do I choose between her trip to the Met Museum
Or the pin with the propeller signalling she was the
First licensed female pilot in the state of Kentucky?
What does it say about me this is the one time I wish she hadn't gotten her wings?
I want to wear her artist spirit.
I already have her poet's blood running through me.
This woman, in all her fiery, tender ways
Touches my life.
I hope she'd be proud I'm wearing her jewelry.
So many decisions to make.
Yamini Aug 2020
In the pandemic of trust
what I found was him
he made sense of my mess
all that he cared of was my stress
all I must say to him
was a brother

He uplifted the standards
of brother for me
where I could be a commander
and he being a tree
to provide all that I need
or what I deprive of

Where there is no way
out there
he would not betray
what I choose are devils
And what he pray is

In the pandemic of love
he taught me something beyond
beyond feelings
beyond security
he gave the safest place
to reside in
he booked it for my entire life
and the irony is
I am not known for its rent

What I am familiar with is
he is a goldsmith
and I being his jewelry
would be in his locker
one more familiar thing
is there
this ornament is nothing
without her goldsmith.....
Hanging from hooks on display,
Are chains with special charms on the ends.
Some are preserved nature,
Like the tiny mushroom surrounded by grass,
Or the dead butterfly with no legs,
And the resin heart of a purple flower.

Some are crystals,
Like the tiger’s eye pendant,
The beads of blue goldstone,
Or the pendulum of smoky quartz,
And the agate that looks like a purse.

Some are special and connected to memories,
Like the golden locket from a date,
Or the silver snowflake from an aunt,
The green Buddha,
And the gold Buddha both from my grandmother.
Dramatic faces and dancing clowns, who's next to make a frown.
Acrobatics and tiger tamers.
Creepy smiles, chills down your spine, oh look? there's Alice In Wonderland with her time rabbit friend. Creepy places, so eerie and dark, don't you want to come with me and see the other side of Circus Wonderland? where every creature comes to life. Even the unknown.
Their all wild, their running for their lives, going untamed but trying to tame.
Let's go to Circus Wonderland, where there's hot bags of crunchy popcorn bliss in the summer air.
Colorful lights, beaming sounds of fright.
Portals to unknown dimensions, where things we dream of come to life.
Come take a ride on the wild side darling, i promise you'll be alright.
Let's go to Circus Wonderland, where even the ballerina over the jewelry box dances under the diamond ring while the tamed lion jumps through the ring of fire.
To give off feelings of imagination, to visualize an unreal reality of fear into light.
Stella Jul 2019
Clear, glimmering, white.

His hand claims the sequined waist
That he earned to hold with jewells.

Cut, polished, sewn.

The chandelier above emanates
The ones hung from her ears.

Strung, tied, boxed.

Not as much a girl's best friend
As a man's trophy wife ticket.

Bought, gifted, worn.
Joyce Jul 2019
by mistake, a fleeting touch
i dare not move, nor utter a sound
the world spun as it held me
before coming to a full stop
souls leapt out from their windows
jewelry slipped off my wrist

for me who waited, it felt like eternity
for you, prolly a millisecond only
Kara Ashley Jan 2019
I want to write poetry,
I want to paint your sky with a million colors,
Or tell you how beautiful you really are.
But the words in my head are a thin gold necklace,
Knotted in 80 different ways
Impossible to unravel, except by those with steady hands
And patience.
Patience to sit alone and focus
To pay attention
As they pull at each part of the knot,
Slowly breaking away parts of the chain
Sometimes grabbing the wrong section, that isn’t quite ready to be yanked out yet.
It might take months, or even a year if you lose focus.

Once you finally see each loop of the delicate chain,
You can wear it upon your neck.
See how beautiful it really is,
And how easily it can break,
Or be knotted all over again

But jewelry can’t untangle itself,
And who has time to untangle a necklace when you can pick up some earrings instead.

Tell me, is it worth it?
Next page