I could be in the smallest room in the world and still feel small
I could be in the most open of fields and still see walls
I'm tiny, hunched down
Humility, but worse now
I'm drowning, but they love me
On the ground, it's killing me
But I still look up
Waiting for the sky
To
Fall
On
Me
There are waves on ceiling and they're stuck on green
Don't care for flowers so I picked dead leaves
There's a roof in my leak and stars on my wall
Pineapple lights but they won't turn on
There are words in my chest
And a man in my closet
Who throws my clothes off their hooks
Tells me to be honest
"Let that little girl out.
Turn the lights on.
Smile for more than a moment.
Or you'll be stuck in the smallest room in the world
Feeling small."

A sky full of stars, a shimmering sight,
Whispers of dreams in the soft, gentle night.
They dance like the wishes we’ve hidden away,
Guiding our hearts as they twinkle and sway.

Each flicker a story, each glow a sweet song,
Reminding us softly that we all belong.
The moon stands as guardian, glowing so bright,
Lighting the pathway through shadows of night.

In the silence of space, our troubles grow small,
With the canvas of night, we can have it all.
So let’s gaze together, with spirits so free,
Under the universe, just you and me.

A sky full of stars, with hope intertwined,
In their radiant beauty, our solace we find.
With each fleeting moment, in silence we share,
The magic of starlight, a bond that we wear.

The Pebble.

Pebble on the sand,
pebble in my hand,
pebble small, but grand…

And the sea roars,
and the sea roars,
around the pebble in my hand…

Maybe my heart
was born too small
for the love
it carries...

That's why it
shares it
just to
give itself
breathing
space

Life is short is small
or maybe not
Purpose is surely not!

You know I love you
You must know all the things I do,
Big things, small things,
Despite your worry, I will not go.
But sometimes you annoy me,
With lots of small things,
Is it your way to avoid me?
Or do you miss the pain it brings?
Toilet seats, left up all the time,
Open ******* boxes all over the pantry,
Crumbs on the floor and ants in a line,
Towels stuck in the microwave; I'm angry!
Why can't you do these simple things?
It's not a lot to ask.
Don't get me started on your room:
Clothes and junk are just too much,
And in the other one, A Temple of Doom,
Your record collection sits untouched.
Downstairs, there’s a pile of tools,
filling up the dining room,
It'd be great if you used these "jewels";
You're so attached they should be in the bedroom!
They're just lots of small things,
Why won't you clean them up?
To me they're irritating things,
And they just keep piling up.
All the small things
Sitting here for twenty years.
Are they the talismans
Against your fears?
You used to bring me flowers
To show me that you cared.
Now you shop online for hours;
I sometimes forget you’re there.
When you ignore the small things,
I’ll dig them out of a pile
And see what money they bring;
You won’t notice after a while.
Maybe in twenty years more
I’ll have all these things
Whittled down and cleared
And we could be each other’s things
Once more.

Sharon Talbot - 2010-2024

I feel little,
Compared to the poets whos' poems trend for days.
If they came 'hot off the press,'
They'd burn the printer's office down.
Their flow is perfect, and every poem has a clear purpose in their line up.
How can I be like them?
Traveler, Peter Garrett, Ben Noah Suresh,
All big names.
They have years of experience compared to me,
Traveler's poem trended so much it's temperature matched the year.
If I asked nicely,
Could he teach me how to make my poems great?
I learn so much from every poem on here I read,
Liana's a person, a poet, a vine.
That nobody cares about the number on the scrapbook poem,
They just care they're there.
I write because I want to show people a window into my life,
But deep down there's a part of me,
That wants to be famous more than anything.
So here I am,
Feeling little,
Feeling small.