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Andrew Kerklaan Apr 2016
Balloons without strings to hold them will always fly away
Celebration seems fruitless when you have no family with which to share it.
Bison Mar 2016
I tied my noose to twenty-seven balloons I'd filled with my own hopes and hot air.
I let them carry me until I was no longer there because I forgot what it meant to be real and gave up on ever being healed.

I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling.
Stained with water and the paint peeling in strips and fragments like the edges of my resistance. If life is all a dream well I can't help but wonder who's dreaming.

Knock on my head and hear the reverb hollow.
It echoes throughout like my thundering heart beat but where's my brain beat? Ignorance is bliss but no one said bliss tastes sweet.

The water in my lungs is deep enough to drown but still shallow enough to hear every note I've got left in my xylophone ribs. I guess this is what you meant when you asked me to forgive.

But I ******* all my anger into twenty-seven little strings and blew kisses to the wind. It's goodbye that's gonna take me home again. So if you see me floating know that I am real but I couldn't bring myself to heal.
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2016
I was your balloon,
You had me so high.
My head overflated, filled to max capacity.
You couldn't have possibly known just how you made me feel.
My neck attached to a string clinched tight in the center of your hand.
Then all of sudden.
Pop.
You couldn't possibly have known how bad that hurt
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
At four, you took my hand and pulled me to your bed,                                                            
your small form cuddling, curling, you urgently said,
"Tell me… tell me a story! Story, make it long",
I began to tell the story, the story of when you were born.

Drums and bugles, bubbles and balloons,
somersaulting clowns and calliope tunes,
you came out to meet them, on the day that you were born,
and they were there to greet you, through a January storm.

Lions and gorillas marched to military airs,
snowmen and snowwomen danced without a spring time care,
somewhere in the harbor, a tugboat played a note,
and all the while you smiled a smile, upon a birthday float.

Just like a circus troupe, we formed a great parade,
and sauntered to the birthing bed where your mother lay,
she picked you up, she held you, as close as close can be,
her hand in mine, she softly said, “Now... we are three.”

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
180827F

Children always want to know who their parents are; their thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears and actions at stages in their lives.
This poem, a poem in several parts (only the first part here), portrays a father for his child, through the manner in which the story of the child's birth is retold at various stages in their life together.
paige cochran Sep 2018
how would life be
if we lived in a
     house of balloons?

personally,
     i would hate it.

every morning
i would wake up
and *****
every
single
     balloon.

i would shatter
every
single
    glass table.

i would walk
among the shreds
of bursted latex
and shards
of broken glass
cutting my feet to bits.

i would drench
the furniture
in kerosene
and light up a cig
and drop the ****
in the path of the fuel.
causing the
     house of popped balloons
and
     broken glass tables
to go up in flames.

only to go to bed
and repeat it the next day.
because im too scared to move out
but too attached to leave.
so i do what i can
to make myself feel
     powerful
and
     in control
and
     dominant.
hopefully the girls got off the tables before i shattered them, poor things.
elle jaxsun Apr 3
if my head weren't attached
i'd lose it in seconds.

no. milliseconds.

my head is more like
a beautiful bouquet of balloons
i hold tightly with both hands

when i'm doing too good
i get so excited that

WHOOPS!

i let them all go.

and then i'm jumping
like a ******* idiot
trying to gather them all.

but they float away fast
and i'm still jumping
while others tell me,
"it's okay, they always come back...
well, after you f i n a l l y calm down."

but i can't calm down
i lost my balloons.

of course, eventually, they do come down.
deflated and strings tangled
(or missing)

i gather them
try to untangle and repair them
and hold on tightly
with both hands
once again.
NaPoWriMo day 3 - 040319

ya know, when you frequently lose your **** it takes a minute to come back down to Earth, regroup and try again.
Adilson Smith Nov 2017
I would say
I love you with all my heart.

But that's not quite right.

For I love you with far much more
Than just that one part.

For instance,
I love you with my lips:
They pucker lovingly like filled balloons
Rising skyward in a knot.

I love you also
With my eyes. Like a ruly clerk,
They sieve your frame with careful affection,
Vitalized by every detail.

My ears, too, are full of love.
I can feel them during the night;
Thumping with blood
As you rise and decline
Asleep in my nook.

There are many others.
My eyebrows, so enlivened,
Agitate my face
And my toes, so excited,
Tense in my shoes
As though afraid of getting wet.

Other parts aren’t so conspicuous.
My arms plot in the dark --
They long to swim around your waist
And link us back to breast.

And my fingers, naughty things,
Scheme to tease your dress
Above your pretty knees
And above your pretty chest.

Would you believe,
Even my ****'s involved!
Though he’s more obvious
With his *****, open smile
And cheeky morning breath.

But chief of all my loving parts
Is my un-run soul
Unkenneled, at last,
Sprinting furiously
Next to yours.
# love #silly

Note -- this is very much a rewrite of Watsky's splendid and original "love poem" (worth checking out on YouTube).
Knit Personality Oct 2018
In beautiful Boulder, Colorado the little boy's balloon literally burst,
and he figuratively burst into tears
as though it were literally the end of the world;
and, figuratively, for him it was.
But, literally, one day you'll find that all of your miseries
Were, figuratively, so many burst balloons.

#
Tomorrow is game day all across Husker land Everyone is excited,the Ducks just don't understand
My bird shot is ready
The remote in my hand
I promise to yell and go crazy
I will cheer them on as loud as I can
Tomorrow is Gameday
Some ducks are going to die!!!!
  Let's get ready
Let the red balloons fly
It's Lincoln.......******* ......... NEBRASKA ..........
Now wipe the tears from your eyes
It's go go Huskers until the day I die
      Final HUSKERS 35 Ducks 32
English Jam May 2018
Boredom on a Sunday is inescapable
I try to hide it behind playing my musical instrument
Trumpeting with my trumpet - blowing my own horn -
I'm praying no one interprets that last sentence as an innuendo
Anyway, I'm nodding off, signing out of reality
The world goes hazy in a second
And I'm ****** into the vortex of a dream

Weird how when a dream begins, we immediately understand the situation
For this scene, I'm spewing blood from my spleen like a bottle of sauce squeezed too hard
It stains the leather of my vehicle
My foot is pressing the pedal to the floor, and the speedometer is twinged in half from all the pressure
The monolith of a highway I'm speeding on shakes as though giants stomp upon it
And the wail of a siren drives me into a frenzy as I try to escape the inevitable
Their polychromatic lights dance at the edges of my eyes, spurring rhythm into action
Even though they must be aeons behind, my heart melodramatically pumps in my chest as though the police are in the backseat
Blood bursting through my temple, thoughts wheezing by like someone's let go of hundreds of balloons  
Up ahead, the road twists itself into a knot of nothingness
My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly, I fear I might never be able to release them
It's a slight movement: right hand goes down, left goes up, but it kicks the vehicle sideways
My body slams into the car with a satisfying crunch and my mind spirals to spaghetti strands
Oddly enough, the world becomes rinsed with blue wash and I'm underwater

My train of thought becomes peaceful, melodic
I float about, running on the inverse of the waves
Here, even a scream is joyous as it sounds all bubbly and childish
Suddenly, a red streak runs across the ocean, chilling me to the bone and erasing all my bubbles
The sea becomes glittered with red and blue streaks, a warning
Bullets stab at my spleen, reminding me of the pain that was, and still is
And my body gears into a full 360, concluding my return to the real world
Or is it the dream world?
Oh well
Either way, I'm back in my car
Carelessly freefalling from nowhere
Weapons, glass, blood droplets, pocket change, pedestrians...all breeze around slowly
Pleading with me to wake up
Then

Everything crumbles, and I smack my **** head against the window, splattering my brains everywhere
My car flew from the sudden turn and I crashed, I think
Now I lay, grasping onto consciousness while pedagogues staple me to the ground
The Lawman towers over me, grinning madly at my defeat
The most barbaric insult, however, comes from the radio, still magically working
"I fought the law and the law won," The Clash idly sing
One of my favourite songs turned into dark irony
The last I remember before blacking out is the scarlet and marine lights clashing forevermore

When I wake up, I'm face-down on the stony and icy floor
The cold burns me enough to wake me from la la land
The iron grip of the handcuffs feels very real
Words are forced into my head, not by my own design, but sort of like they've been placed there
An argument as to whether existence has a meaning is taking place in my head, and I can't stop it
Sort of like how in a dream, you can't control your thoughts or actions
Wait
This is still a dream, right?
Right?
Daisy Marrow Oct 2014
My love is vast.
My love is strong.
My love is driven by the thought
of you noticing me one day.
Although I am told that some love never blooms
like flowers struggling during the bitter colds.
I have nothing to offer you.
All I have are my bones.
They hold me up
on days I feel like a bird with broken wings,
but I will always love you with the lights on.
I will care for your wounds
until you're able to fly again.
Until you can reach the moon.
So play your guitar
and sing your songs.
I will admire you from afar
as you carry on.
Don't worry about me.
I'm not trying to come off as a creep
but I love your eyes,
and how they look like dark coffee.
I love the way you speak.
Each word a melody.
Every sentence a song.
I'm caught on your hook.
I could listen all day long.
I'm lost in your music
while you're lost in this madness.
So don't worry my dear,
the flowers will someday bloom.
I shall save these words for you.
I'll read them out to you,
but only once during the blue moon.

You're a sweetheart and a really brave bird.
So walk with me to the edge of the earth
and I will share you all my secrets,
and you will share me yours.
We'll tie them both to balloons
and let them go.
Lay with me down on this pearly dew-drop grass.
We'll watch the clouds travel to and fro,
just stay with me in this perfect spot.
You don't have to go.
2014
Francie Lynch Sep 2018
Parading past in the emperor's robe,
I looked with wonder at the fool,
Left, right, right left,
Out of step.
I stood too close to the sewer cover,
A stench was in the air.
Behind and above on a balcony,
Leaning on wrought iron,
A woman's voice, drunk on demonstrations,
Called out, bouncing off balloons,
Never look a clenched fist in the mouth.
King Panda May 2016
this table in the
shade
these commune hippies
in the river
I wrote a poem
in my sleep
I looked at the mountains
and thought
rain
staccato
metronome
irrigation
and caps
melting
but enough of this
nature
let’s go back
to the concrete
mouth
where we walk
through the city
full of cake
bloated like
balloons
but rolling
because
cake doesn’t make
you float
no
cake only makes you
fat
the conversation turns
to the stench
there’s something dying
in the air
we leave
and roll joints
spot magnums
on tree branches
and think
only monkeys ****
in trees
and we would never
want to see
monkey ***
and ******?
no
we’d never try it
and the homeless man next to us
puts his spoon
away
but god
why do we sleep
when we just wake up?
why do we sleep
to dream
such ******-up
things
where celebrities
feed us salami in
back alleyways
and we see our mother
pooping on
world maps?
time rips of
lyrical grass
conductive smile
soap bubbles
these beautiful
dreamtime mornings
spent thinking of you
in playhouse mountains
like a child
you smile
like a friend
I offer you my hand
and we walk
to the white
together
bill withers is there
he is singing
in his yellow
turtleneck
dani Apr 18
Ever since I was a little girl
I have always wondered
Where balloons go
When we let them out of our grip
Surrounded by nothingness
In wide open spaces
We watch them float up into the air
So elegantly
They move so nonchalantly
Without a care in the world
They don't know where
Their final destination may be
But I wonder
Something I have always wondered
Nico Julleza May 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Blue kite soaring up high on cotton clouds
gently rolling by, and trees gazing up the sky,
A sound of singing lovers, a harmony so grand,
A song no one can sang.

The air steals a gentle bliss
from where their feet kissing the hazy mist,
A mint of scented moss, that sets the mood,
From gray rocks to pink balloons.

It was never a waste of time to be there too,
But those who only looks upon the moon,
In true heart’s desire, faith requires,
To see what true lovers often do.

Underneath the starry night
deaf ghosts sailing by, meant nothing to harm,
But just to bid goodbye, so tenderly they sigh,
For a moment in one summers night.
#kiss #love #stars #ghosts #summer #night #son #sky

This is my first ever poem Published in HP

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Natalie Aug 2018
My limbs pinned and flayed.
A curious crowd of men hover overhead,

Floating faces bobbing closely
Like great bearded balloons.

In a flash of white and sharply gleaming silver,
They swiftly ***** my leather skin

And, upon prying the cage, are astounded to have found
Only a cavity in the place a heart should be.

Throughout my warren of vein sits the last true proof
That anything once flowed there—

A thickly pickled ichor to make sickened
Wives’ stomachs turn at their evening roast.
Kara Jean Nov 2016
Bitterness seems to be the ego of my tongues taste buds
The story of life never really begun
The future is torn by what we have become
I still stand proudly holding congratulation balloons and chewing gum
I pop the bubble as I hum a song
Not noticing the buzzard telling me to move on
The ghost seems to place himself next to my feet
whispering with every step he sees
Trying to show me my deceit
Although I walk careless or maybe hopelessly
Encouraging myself the future is still bright
When in reality it is only fake highlights
Held together with dead ends and a burnt head
We have no other opportunity
Only a possibility of being the lucky one
I lose my fun as I sit here popping my chewing gum
Hannah Christina Sep 2018
I bought myself a kite to fly
I tossed it up and ran around
I tried to pull it through the sky
But found it just dragged on the ground.

It landed in the mud, it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragic tale of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was different.
It caught a mighty gale
I flew it well, then let it go
And in the end I failed.

It joined released balloons and leaves, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.
Of dreams and men.

I'll probably change the title and maybe edit more, we'll see.  This was honestly in my drafts for like over two months.  I wanted to finally publish it.
L B Mar 30
No more red balloons let go
Strangles wildlife of sea and land
Thought you should know

Oh, for the innocent days of balloons
birthdays, parades, life's bright cartoon

Back before we knew
Even our joys end the world
We are not right.  Sadly
Popping stars just like
Balloons; I darkened my night
To feel more at home-
I don't know about this one, really. I think a person will sometimes be so used to pain, they almost want it, like it's normal. All feedback is welcome :)
trf Nov 2017
i smoke cigarettes, i'm cool.
my new orleans dialect, hasn't escaped me yet.
get high from the vet, i'm cool.
With my head down I’m staring up, from this deep K hole.

my coke is the best, i'm cool.
wearin' a crown to bed, those thorny cigarettes.

don't listen to anyone who's true,
live like you wanna be, that seems funny too.

die in your dreams, way past curfew,
the more it seems, those years'll laugh at you.

     the sky will bury you
     and burn you to the ground.
     hot air balloons,
     will fall upside down.

     life's label has no lesson,
     you grew and grew and grew.
     armor up this cap and gown,
     nightmares will pursue.

with all above regrets, i'm cool, i'm cool, i'm cool.
"amid the chaos of that day, when all i could hear was the thunder of gunshots and all i could smell was the violence in the air. I look back and i'm amazed, that my thoughts were so clear and true. that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves, like a broken record. you're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool."
Sam Hawkins Aug 2017
I have awakened to a land called Hu.
I fling my senses in all directions
and love sings.

Green and living I am
and with greening things
I am friend.

I cry out--not publicly, but demure.
I conceal and voice
to God.

How is that the air has become so crowded?
Spirit fills balloons as large as the sun.

I am not breathing this
so that it becomes what it is.

All breathes and all sings
and this is where I am.
haley Jan 2018
i am running out of
air
i am running out of
scrapes on my knees
running out of
new corners to cross
in this neighborhood
we,
we are growing up in the same houses
with the same curtain of trees draping
their limbs over our windowsills
we are sleeping in the same bedsheets
wrinkled from the imperative
tossing and turning
of adolescents.

we inflate our chests
and float away like red balloons
a freckle in the pale complexion of the sky
for this love affair with the pavement
has lost its edge
this slipping on
slimy banana peels
has stabilized

we have bitten and scratched and stained
the doors of your fingers
studied every trail of your fingerprints
i have grown older in the palm of your hand
your fists raised to the sky
it is time for you to open them.
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