Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
clmathew Mar 22
~the wind feels the smallest birds
It's got.

—Primus St. John, "Biological Light", Gift of Tongues

The winds blow and gust
written March 19th, 2021

Today the winds blow and gust
bending but not breaking the boughs of the pine
sending the last of the fall leaves swirling
along labyrinth paths only the wind can see.
We who can take shelter
in constructs we have sweated and sacrificed for
built to withstand the winds that blow
so proud of ourselves,
while the smallest bird
without a straw to it's name
lets go and rides the wind
letting fate take it where it will.
Jenn Dec 2020
oh
i didn't realize you didn't care.
i tried so hard
to be there for you,
but you blew me off
like birthday candles.
my favorite smell;
next to pine trees,
on a cold december morning,
where i find myself missing you,
again.
it just turns out,
that all the pretty words you said to me
were lies
and thats alright
because
ill just find myself lying in someone else's bed tonight.
Ellesora Rue Oct 2020
i have loved
i have lost
to shining waters
i've been tossed

you will yearn
you will pine
but on shining waters
you'll be mine
just a random set of rhymes... not sure if it makes sense:)
Garrett Johnson Sep 2020
That time we walked around for no reason.

Talking.
Outer.
Wooden door.
Brain rush.
Molecule.
Closing eyes.
What's her name.
**** I forgot her name.


Garrett Johnson.
Bored as Michelle.
annh May 2020
Whispering
t r a i l s
of light-glazed ephemera
w      a      f      t
from plain to hills;

*G i l d e d*
grams of silken
f+r+a+g+m+e+n+t+s
warm with pine
and noon.

Sunlight
p i t t e r - p a t t e r s ,
D a N c E  S t E p P i N g
the length
of a polo field.

‘Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that
I love - that makes life and nature harmonise.’
- George Eliot
Jenish Mar 2020
Grape vine held out her soft hands
Red pine bow down and hold hands
Will they care not my shy look?
Love in dark woods that thrive lands.
Garrett Johnson Feb 2020
Ode to the road.

See you and your rivered mind.
Sought out in cyan.
And cry for the drift in your eye.
Made for.
The groove.
The tremolo in your pace.
Rose hue to your face.
And the sea to your shirt.
The one you got in Olympia.



Garrett Johnson.
I should've died.
Garrett Johnson Jan 2020
Goodbye.

Fall.
Sidewalk.
Streetlamp.
Hands held.
Old leaves.
New sounds.
I fell.
In.
Those eyes.
Those eyes.
Those eyes.



Garrett Johnson
Beautiful friend.
Kaitlin Evers Jan 2020
Give me a place to put myself
I await on a storefront shelf
Give me a sole to lace with mine
The one for whom my heart doth pine

I miss the face that I know not
I'm blue like a forget-me-not
Just thinking about you
Wondering what you do

I love your eyes
Your hand in mine
I hate our goodbyes
And waiting for signs

You are a vine, and I am your rose
Loving you wholely, right down to my toes

I don't know who you are
But you cannot be far
I will know you someday
At least, that's what I pray
Garrett Johnson Jan 2020
Paper rats in the walls.

& Like the life previous.
I sense them once more.
Clawing at the inside of my brain.
Turning.
Everything.
But the floor.
They wine in cancerous heat upon my door.
& Leave my wall into a galaxy of a corpse.



Garrett Johnson.
On fire in the front row.
And her kiss had to throw me.
Next page