"backrest" poems - Hello Poetry

as a kid there's nothing like wasting away inside a tiny room sitting on the backrest of the couch looking out the window and seeing her tread through the rain a red umbrella covers her. Mother she's going back to the liquor store

0

Feb 23, 2020

Feb 23, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC

B_R_Dragos

for some of that artificial happiness

as a kid there's nothing like wasting away inside a tiny room sitting on the backrest of the couch looking out the window and seeing her tread through the rain a red umbrella covers her. Mother she's going back to the liquor store

14

Third floor psych ward window lookout, second from the right on the east side. Best seat available, padded, from 1934. Backrest Swingline-stapled to the faux- Maple leg support 2 x 4s. Beige bedspread, white walls blend into the door threshold that people are honeymoon'd through kicking the aids, clawing at their eyes. But Téa sat there watching the overcast shadows sweep the sky heavily like the watercolor paintings on the group room plastic table where pissed-off preteens paint Dad beating them, or Sis dying in a car crash. Téa just sat there while the stagnant Valley tumbled dry low outside, tuning out a black patient behind her riling-up another fight with a plastic-hinged particleboard door. Swinging.

0

Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC

christopher-cizek

For Téa Page

Third floor psych ward window lookout, second from the right on the east side. Best seat available, padded, from 1934. Backrest Swingline-stapled to the faux- Maple leg support 2 x 4s. Beige bedspread, white walls blend into the door threshold that people are honeymoon'd through kicking the aids, clawing at their eyes. But Téa sat there watching the overcast shadows sweep the sky heavily like the watercolor paintings on the group room plastic table where pissed-off preteens paint Dad beating them, or Sis dying in a car crash. Téa just sat there while the stagnant Valley tumbled dry low outside, tuning out a black patient behind her riling-up another fight with a plastic-hinged particleboard door. Swinging.

20

Cold floor Bathtub backrest Sharp things Exposed skin Secretive nature Loud voices Dark liquid Blank ahead

0

Dec 23, 2012

Dec 23, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC

c-a-v

Ingredients

Cold floor Bathtub backrest Sharp things Exposed skin Secretive nature Loud voices Dark liquid Blank ahead

8

I want to form cities on my tongue, built up with all the beautiful things I've never said to you. The people would be clothed in white, and the skyscrapers would kiss my palette. I would take you to sit on the park benches, where fingernails have indented the wood and first kiss dates were carved into the backrest. I would walk you down the sidewalk, made up of all the unspoken "I miss you's" and let you pick flowers that have bloomed in the cracks between the pavement. I would show you the beauty in the darkness of empty alleyways, I would hold your hand on the edge of the tallest bridge. I would kiss you in front of the world, and shout my love for you into the void. There are so many words you have never heard. So many times my lips have articulated "I love you" but never followed with a sound to resonate it. Maybe that's why we're not in the city. Maybe that's why you're at the other end of the room starring at walls, waiting for them to cave in and fill the silence. We always wanted more than this, but I have this fear of leaving and you have a fear of losing what was never yours. I hope I can show you the city someday, maybe you'll see my love for you clearly under bright lights. But until then, I'm trying to find it in me to get my tongue untied.

0

May 29, 2015

May 29, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC

bleedingpages

Tongue tied

I want to form cities on my tongue, built up with all the beautiful things I've never said to you. The people would be clothed in white, and the skyscrapers would kiss my palette. I would take you to sit on the park benches, where fingernails have indented the wood and first kiss dates were carved into the backrest. I would walk you down the sidewalk, made up of all the unspoken "I miss you's" and let you pick flowers that have bloomed in the cracks between the pavement. I would show you the beauty in the darkness of empty alleyways, I would hold your hand on the edge of the tallest bridge. I would kiss you in front of the world, and shout my love for you into the void. There are so many words you have never heard. So many times my lips have articulated "I love you" but never followed with a sound to resonate it. Maybe that's why we're not in the city. Maybe that's why you're at the other end of the room starring at walls, waiting for them to cave in and fill the silence. We always wanted more than this, but I have this fear of leaving and you have a fear of losing what was never yours. I hope I can show you the city someday, maybe you'll see my love for you clearly under bright lights. But until then, I'm trying to find it in me to get my tongue untied.

2