"afterthoughts" poems
An irrefutable dream,
fulfilled tenfold in the illusion
made imperfect by dreamers' oblivion,
sought by the delver of selves.
Rejection of messengers,
the hive of deluded apathy
that saturates the air thick with the droning of silent hesitation
hexagonal compartmentalization,
sundering your cedar carapace,
which cancerous excess shatters,
and only cracks remain;
the afterthoughts of paradise
and undiscovered paths of depression,
an anxious exodus of life-force.
Part thine red sea,
lest plate tectonics make waves,
that cause molecules of hemoglobin to disperse in light,
the crimson tears of a soul,
sweeter than the lips coveted.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
Sweetheart
A gritty man said the world is a place to bury
into. take both feet, heels deep in the city.
coughing through thick smoke, he said
you will know that people are as stuck as gum under the rails
I responded: maybe they are taking their time
when I sleep my eyes don't close
I beat dust with my breathing and let my eyelids flutter at the fan
dreams of sailing entice water from my eyes
I reach over and let droplets cascade into your hair
it always smells like coconut and driftwood
Each morning you wake the sheets are chilled and my is suit warm
I breath perfume from your blouse while I type, see your strawberry hair fall
to your eyes. I relish in solving paper stacks and late night empty floors, yet
I crave the sound of our garage door as it closes behind me
I let my hands fall, careful to miss my pockets
sliding them loosely at my side.
I go out into the clean cut gray window gallery, rows of traffic
The man's smoggy afterthoughts say the subway is as beautiful as
his exhales, sleep is only a man who can breathe both above and below a great sea
and suits secretly climb up slides and swing across monkey bars-
each craving their own private happiness.
Sweetheart
all I really want, at the close of each day
is to make you peanut butter truffle cheesecake and lemon drop tea
paint the bathroom cherry red
rub your feet during movie nights
and hold your hand while we sleep
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
Consider me like an afterthought
and I will fade away.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
This year was different
or was it me?
same Trafalgar crowds
link-armed-laughing
pigeons
puff-chested gluttons
different air
full of afterthoughts
I could almost touch
fluttering away
like rusting leaves
on winter's breath
I waited
on our bench
dark cold
stark old
wood
lovers kissed shyly
birds squawked
she laughed
eyes wide
flushed cheeks
Valentine's heart pounding
in a fledgling chest
I wondered if she were me
willing me to remember
hugging him close
I longed
to melt inside her happiness
old words, love and burger-boxes
where do they go?
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
I'm death defyed by you
Your warm skillet
Of afterthoughts
And tongues
The sweet taste of
Teardrop and bubblegum
The *** from the nurses
Cabinet
The stairwell
We had a good habit
Only to lash out
Of many times like this
When I kiss the cheek
Of a monster
And steer down
A road less inhibbited
One we want to know again
One that taste of teardrops and sin
And fun nights of running
With guns down
the streets of Adalie
And once again
We find this bliss
Somewhere between
Heaven and who gives a ****
Where the stars kiss our toes
And wine fills our holes
From valinquished unrelinquesed love
Replaced by sweet current aftertaste
Trying to perfect this flow
Is a hell of who knows
Why must I travel down it again alone
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
I feel the heat
upon my neck
sparking fire,
just a peck
liberated,
what the heck
kissing lips
& moving hips
touching me
with fingertips
hot and steamy,
& very dreamy
skin of gold
smooth & creamy
inked in breath
& just like death,
come to take me
then forsake me
words you utter,
make me shudder
afterthoughts
a coming morning
& even though
ample warning
your way inside,
you are horning
romancing
of the coming reaper
our feelings go,
so much deeper
not so much,
a peaceful sleeper
cannot wait
or take a pause
surgery needed
for the cause
releasing me,
a lovely clause
plunging knife,
causing pain
cutting out
the ugly vein
taking hold,
a waving mane
telling me,
familiar songs
come inside
where you belong
even if,
they think it wrong
darkened hearts,
climbing walls
a melancholy
southern drawl
like a wanting
Vodoo doll
pounding sound
inside your chest
Am I cursed
or am I blessed?
buried in a loamy nest
heart arrhythmia
taking start
take a blade,
remove my heart
taking love
& pull apart
I hold it beating
in my hands
relieved at last
of its demands
as shadows fall
low in the deep
of promises
we'll never keep
curling toes,
as blood it seeps
colored in cascading red
of endless nights
that I have bled
laid at last, telluric bed
I'm melting slow
into your arms
dissolved into
the haunting charms
glad that I,
just bit the farm
lying in
a field of wheat
covered by
my linen sheets
a **** place
for us to meet
& burning
in the guilty heat
I'll write you here,
inside my room
skies apart,
forgiving gloom
push aside
impending doom
or what dangers
wait & loom
I wait for death
& love
...to bloom
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
Free flowing thoughts
Moonlit sky
Dinner by the beach
Hands reaching
Far across my thighs
Long summer evenings
That turn to dawn
Empty wine bottles
A seat in a lawn
We sat there in silence
Side by side
Hand in hand
Watching the Crimson sunrise
With coffee afterthoughts
A slight hesitation
Before our lips lock
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 1:25 PM UTC
It was the mouths fault
smacking together, flicking sticky
reality onto her collarbone.
Squishing perfectly whole beginnings into soggy afterthoughts
It could have left them alone, yet
silence is failure, and success was all it could talk about
Never reach for a door closing if you
can't handle the pain.
Pinched knuckles inflamed with blame,
stiffly folding in quiet fury
Nails are diva's
rallying strikes when ignored, scratching at patience
always needing attention
All active in the community: grabbing and giving, holding and pushing,
killing and mending, building and breaking.
Thing is, fingerprints only matter in crimes
It's losing pressure. Deflating, collapsing.
Rubbing is hopeless, exams are lazy, blinking is irritating. No focus
Look at her-
Can't.
Look her in the eyes-
Won't
No focus, no focus, ......no .....fo....
*{bare shoulders
fingers intertwined
soft...lips..
broken skateboards
midnight bench talk
sun burns
you're it
you're it
you're}*
Not.
Reading makes it worse, table charts said it would continue deteriorating. Always blurred, always squinting.
So much depending, so much waiting. so much, so much, ......so....muc
*{desire
promises
hope
backseat lounging
hours of music
October coffee
I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm}*
Not.
Never. Stop.
Don't quit, don't go easy.
Committed- following through, following these vines. These promises
Don't underestimate- prove it.
Every day, every day, every.single.day.
*but.
please.
I am,
hurting
I trust
and
I'm failed
I won't let you down
but.
Don't take me for granted
I am strong, I am strong, I am strong
but.
I have moments*
Mouth's lie, hand's reach, eye's fade, heart's ache.
Be more than the weakness
I am only human
but.
I want more
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
everlasting awe
a dance when sighted across the street
goodness, trust, virginity
stars and heights and depths
breathless, breathtaking words
late night is the only time to talk
smilekissing
he sun she moon one earth
the ********** of thoughts
the licking of dreams
youth, old age, immortality
afterthoughts of bliss
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
in the dark honey, the knees of bees and afterthoughts coagulate in burnt gold and warm blood.
the air is made of dander and random. the dog barks a virus you check for fleas. and the north star -
is violent. in the blemish of symmetry, the ruling class of ravens, flock to your discord,
they adorn your wretched gorgeous. they engorge the zenith
of your curse.
javelin happy, the stab behind the eye that sees too deep is delight's dagger !
the imminent ruse of a persistent Truth and an eternal Lie.
the Macbeth in your chicken soup.
and the Soup.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
there is never an afterthought looking
at society as a whole but, in times of
discontent; we look disdain in the eyes
as it dulls humanities open-mindedness,
aghast
yet, we find clemency to overlook abominate
behavior in our fellow humans fore... the storm
will pass in the face of sullen words that may
darken our path; it behooves ethically to consider
their trials and tribulations in life as they unmask;
revealing their torment to mind and soul, giving
thought to their utterances and actions seeking
forgiveness, falling to their knees in repentance
dare we ask of their dilemma or do they shutter
in the wake of humanities wrath; shall we re-consider,
silently ingesting; fact or fiction in a society of closed
minds, refusing to shed their armor, their protection
from the few in the masses with no afterthought,
no understanding as a mind clashes with thoughts
of self-destruction; finding no justification
thinking God has abandoned them to face irrational
minds and behavior; not realizing He's right by their
side walking in their shoes; carrying them through
their burdens, trying to open up their eyes mind and
soul to see hope at salvations door , fore, they have
not been forsaken...the minds a terrible thing to waste
on societies triviality
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
i so wish these poems weren't such afterthoughts,
words either labored, squeezed off a pained heart,
or a strong gush of stupid happy emotion as in farts?
neither pretty codified sonnets with essence in parts,
nor crisp, concise haiku's focused like targeted darts,
not the sophistried zen, oft hacked philosophic verses,
and the petty patterned words unmovingly affecting,
i despair for us to read a poem from brains turmoiled,
confused,unwritten words,unexpressed feelings,in divine madness!!
dance the unknown poem if a poem, to music uncomposed if music,
why cant we live them **** poems! so we dont have to **** write them!!
-every fellow being is a poem unwritten I feel, lets live them? Can we?-
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
I am queen of afterthoughts,
rarely of fore.
Especially not in matters of hearts.
I am dry heaving sighs,
with leaden guilt
and what ifs.
**** them.
**** me.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Everyone has a dream
brewing inside their head,
wishing to quash
the day-to-day
that we all have to dread:
it’s hard not to feel stuck
inside of a revolving door,
hard to escape
consumerism
that wants to make us
think we are poor
At the end of each sunset
comes another rising moon
to some it’s just
a time for sleep,
others it is an unbearable
silence, a deafening clarity
that we are truly all alone
because nobody will ever
see the way our insides tick
and form into afterthoughts,
never to begin
Still, the clock is spinning,
our minds keep spilling
thoughts we appreciate,
others we regret-
the endless war of
waging through mental states
to endure physical reality again
as we get up in the morning
with another attempt
at facing the blinding light,
the arduous day-to-day,
leaving our dream behind
that only wants to
breakthrough, and come alive
within this means to an end
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 5:22 PM UTC
Razor-tipped pencils that surgically
slice patterned pages
Soft brushes from fingertips like afterthoughts
puddling atop pillows
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
I've been called many things
Unsavoury and unkind
Words that strangle what little hope
I've stored in myself
What little light
That's been left
A flame so heavily guarded
Yet barely burning
I've been called many things
Crazy
Sometimes I crumble within myself
Forgetting where I am
Who I am
Who I've been
Who I could be
Wishing I could just spotaneously
Not be
I've been called many things
Emotionally draining
How is it that I feel everything?
And then nothing?
Instantaneously
I just want to feel again
I just want to feel real
I just want to remember that
I'm more than these names
These things
These afterthoughts that
For some reason
You decided to impart on me
I've been called many things
Things I didn't want
Things that aren't me
Things that barely touch the idea of me
Among these things
These verbal illustrations of my personhood
Disconnect
Alienating and cold
Misconstrued and yet so sharp
Ambiguous yet so sure
I have been called many things
But never yours
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
Rain drops racing down the train window,
For just that split second time is irrelevant,
Life is on hold,
We forget what's going on,
Sounds become just a background,
Problems are afterthoughts,
All that matters is which drop will finish first,
Because we are forced to think,
Which drop do I want to be?
The one that finishes first,
Trim and slick,
Or the slow one gaining water,
Majestic and thick.
For that split second,
A little rain is all that matters.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
i think i've always known i've loved you — in smudged postscripts in the next page of a letter, in the secrecy of bated breaths, and lonely, sunset afterthoughts. i think i've always known i've loved you, and to be able to say this now without fear or cowardice or equivocation: i've loved you, in past and in present tense — it's magic. it's transcendent. it's freeing, and free-falling, and stepping into the warmest summerlight. it's us — in subversion of poetry, yet just as beautiful, my love — and just as poetic.
i think i've always known i've loved you — in smudged postscripts in the next page of a letter, in the secrecy of bated breaths, and lonely, sunset afterthoughts. i think i've always known i've loved you, and to be able to say this now without fear or cowardice or equivocation: i've loved you, in past and in present tense — it's magic. it's transcendent. it's freeing, and free-falling, and stepping into the warmest summerlight. it's us — in subversion of poetry, yet just as beautiful, my love — and just as poetic.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 2:06 AM UTC
love is a word
love is a verb
love is not outspoken afterthoughts
it is laughs
and your hair in the wind
the flowers grazing the
tip of my nose
as I breathe you in;
it is not a melancholy vibration
overtaking my entire being
as if I am not worthy
of the word of love..
but this body made of decaying wood
and rusty bolts is no longer
the home for this lingering hopelessness
I once called home
love is a verb
that could only beg to describe your active
presence.
love is an adjective for the way I feel when you laugh over nothing and our endless sorries.
love is a noun because it is who you are
to me.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
Wasn't so much afterthoughts
but rather the act itself;
that myoclonic movement
An involuntary reflex of sorts.
Prisoner to human conditions
conserving oneself with
The illusion of individualism
A Perceived idea of what is natural
An erroneous concept of right and wrong.
Blaming the sky for rain and storm
Instead of hiding under shelter.
Punishing clueless planet earth
Our thoughtless pollution of her the seas
Man and man at war
Setting off bombs just for kicks.
The errs was much more than just
you could taste its bitter like venom;
Blisters from a flame or the sting of a slap.
Tangibly intangible were the sins we did.
Sometimes we knew what
We couldn't be held accountable for
Being not the kind frowned upon,
We did it in such abundance.
But it wasn't their fault,
.
.
.
or was it...
Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 3:16 AM UTC
As the fate of the world grows, darker by the hour.
I must ask myself.
Are the men, whom stood by me in times of peace
Allies in a time of War.
Is Ignorance their New Master, which robs a free thought.
Will they oppose me, during each battle, as Freedom gasp for air.
How much longer can I pretend, that these are good people, with evil thoughts.
I'm over this delusion that they truly care, as I'm one in millions.
A sea of suffering for which they don't cast me with the lot.
But all the while I see, people like me, caught in the raging tide of injustice.
I must cut the line, join chorus of dismay, and rebel and rebel and rebel.
No man can claim to care for me, while brothers and sisters painted just the same are afterthoughts.
For I am, as I always will be, an extension of all people lashed with Death's whip of inequality.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
That chap we'd all forgotten
You know, with temper rotten
Full of fire and flair
Masses of curly hair
It's furious Ryan Sidebottom.
Graeme Smith is great
If you want someone to hate
There was a nick
the lying *****
His presense again does grate
That man has no **** SKILL
And him I'd like to ****
His ears not SHARPER
Bloody Darly HARPER
I know I need a PILL
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:57 PM UTC
we drove for over an hour yesterday to
reach mother nature's home,
a playground for adults,
we only wanted to reach a destination
that held sincere afterthoughts and
the smell of moss covering our sight.
it was off the grid, only the locals
could direct you to the tree coverings
and caves that whales could sleep in,
but my brother and i decided it
was only right to keep looking on
our own, we have stubbornness
engraved on our foreheads.
not short of three hours into the
wilderness, wearing out our shoes
and losing energy in our joints,
we found panther caves parallel
to where my brother and
his roommate from iraq
dragged on cigarettes for answers
to show them the way to go.
they were magnificent with majestic
slabs of sediments that had stories
dating from the 1800's,
graffiti painted in fluorescent shades
and charcoal from the last fire,
presented on the highest cliff
as if the last person had something
to prove.
we climbed and angled our bodies
like contortionists, we
were nothing short from nature -
our existence was made here,
within the grains of sand and
the tangled roots from trees
growing on the embankments.
i wanted that to be reality.
when we found our boundaries
and landed back into the car,
we drove away in silence because
our eyes were heavy and our hands
could tell facts of frustration,
senselessness, livelihood, and something
words cannot measure up to.
that world could be my gateway drug,
the ignorant bliss from social networking,
the war with no apparent reasoning (with the
amount of debt we are in),
the pressure on myself.
i felt so simple when everything else
has been so complex.
i now know i want to be an architect
of the woods, to preserve
the chiseled names of strangers
who felt alive, who had nowhere
else to be at that moment.
i want to be a navigator,
the one who could tell you what
the markings on the bark meant.
i want to fall into a love so deep,
only the leaves could catch me.
i think i found home.
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 6:32 AM UTC
Have I always been
a relentless version of what I seek?
Afterthoughts of what I say,
or ignorant splendours and epiphanies?
Refuge to black ink, a loved ones right arm,
or the everlasting solace of my four walls.
Eager, Anxious, Loving, & Unapologetically
most things they’ve so often feared.
To take advice from the branches,
when the roots are deeper.
To take love from the waves,
that have been set to roll back.
This is not your tree analogy,
or your ship gone afloat.
But I am leaping forward,
and falling backwards.
And it looks all the same from
here.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
I see my book on your shelf
And yours on mine,
I would take our afterthoughts
And turn them into rhyme.
Every love story starts with
A blank page.
Take note,
People still write letters
Left for others to quote.
Each day with you
Leaves a poet at a loss for words.
I love you, Darragh.
A time for us,
A private bookcase
Sealed with kisses.
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 7:07 AM UTC