Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"bzz" poems
I was silently within myself, when bzz bzz bzz You rang. Exuberant, I answered. First it was small talk, insignificant, fit for the simpleminded in my Art History class. Metamorphosis occured, unexpectedly. And Here we were. You, crying, and I, deeply sighing, Passed an hour in that glorious manner Until you knew the tides had turned and the spark had gone. Our bond, though, Will never weaken, never falter we are forever united, Held together with the most permanent ties short of True Love: those of True Friendship, that most lovely creation. Christlike in our treatment of each other, we share: consolation empathy affection tenderness joy And, occasionally, Small Talk.
0
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
Small Talk
im so high i can fly or will i die to try? im so high i can touch the sky! my oh my so can i. i believe i can fly and i believe i will die. follow me and you shall see follow me and you shall be. im so high it hurts my eyes im so high that i can try. here i am and here i was now im gone so let the world bzz. you try to tell me how to live and now i tell you what i is. im.. im.. im a gypyse it makes me feel like im so high thats why i believe i'll fly. im so high that can fly or will i die to try?
0
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
im so high i can fly
She tap, tap, tapped her cheap pen on the yellowing paper. The ****** paper stared back a blank, unflinching glare. Typical. Frenetically, restlessly, she set her own metronome faster with the clicking of her pen than the outdated clock sulking in the corner could possibly keep up with. Suddenly, decisively, She pushed herself away from the desk. The screech of the chair’s harsh legs across a cold, unforgiving concrete floor filled up the whole room with noise. Noise was all around her, empty noise, invading her ears her head her brain. Stop! She needed them out. The room was silent— Save for her and the sounds of an old room with a dying light and a faded, ticking clock. She closed her tired eyes and drew deeply from the cigarette between her thin, voiceless lips, then smudged her little addiction out leaving a burn stain at the top of her paper. Might as well, she figures, not much good comin’ from this paper anyways. And anyways, the flickering light in this God-forsaken old office wasn’t doing her any good, either. She knew it was time to pack up, head home, but she needed this demon inside her to work for her, not against her. ‘Writers Anonymous’ that’s where she needed to be— what she needed to be a part of. She had things to say. And she couldn’t say them. Flick, flick, bzzz. The light sputtered, limping dejectedly through it’s own current, with a halfhearted commitment to shedding light. Hanging over her head just like the ideas she couldn’t force her hand to capture on paper. They needed to be confined, here, she knew. These thoughts, buzzing around her head, like the anxious flicking and bzzing of the bulb dangling precariously above, needed to be trapped in this paper, immortalized externally, a burden laid down in incriminating ink before her. That’s what she needed, she knew. but no matter how often or how hard or how intense she tap, tap, tapped her pen on the rickety wooden desk over the silent white paper with the cigarette stain in the top corner— those **** buzzing thoughts cluttering up her brain would keep sputtering through life. Writers Anonymous. That’s what she needed.
0
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
Writers Anonymous
She tap, tap, tapped her cheap pen on the yellowing paper. The ****** paper stared back a blank, unflinching glare. Typical. Frenetically, restlessly, she set her own metronome faster with the clicking of her pen than the outdated clock sulking in the corner could possibly keep up with. Suddenly, decisively, She pushed herself away from the desk. The screech of the chair’s harsh legs across a cold, unforgiving concrete floor filled up the whole room with noise. Noise was all around her, empty noise, invading her ears her head her brain. Stop! She needed them out. The room was silent— Save for her and the sounds of an old room with a dying light and a faded, ticking clock. She closed her tired eyes and drew deeply from the cigarette between her thin, voiceless lips, then smudged her little addiction out leaving a burn stain at the top of her paper. Might as well, she figures, not much good comin’ from this paper anyways. And anyways, the flickering light in this God-forsaken old office wasn’t doing her any good, either. She knew it was time to pack up, head home, but she needed this demon inside her to work for her, not against her. ‘Writers Anonymous’ that’s where she needed to be— what she needed to be a part of. She had things to say. And she couldn’t say them. Flick, flick, bzzz. The light sputtered, limping dejectedly through it’s own current, with a halfhearted commitment to shedding light. Hanging over her head just like the ideas she couldn’t force her hand to capture on paper. They needed to be confined, here, she knew. These thoughts, buzzing around her head, like the anxious flicking and bzzing of the bulb dangling precariously above, needed to be trapped in this paper, immortalized externally, a burden laid down in incriminating ink before her. That’s what she needed, she knew. but no matter how often or how hard or how intense she tap, tap, tapped her pen on the rickety wooden desk over the silent white paper with the cigarette stain in the top corner— those **** buzzing thoughts cluttering up her brain would keep sputtering through life. Writers Anonymous. That’s what she needed.
Continue reading...
82
See the depressed deed Delve deep Cry, the elegy's creed. Elsewhere: Breeds new Bzz-bees, elm trees, electric eels Ever-steel freeze Sweet revenge's creep, then screech Wed, cheer, speech Fresh breeze, meets seeds Frees weeds. Here: Wet cheeks, we weep Regret seeps Need jeers. Yes, we bleed Yet Every eye never sees Every remedy. never felt By the helpless.
0
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
elegy: a lipogram
*pretty boy just did the frown... where were you with that paintbrush and palette?! i mean pretty boy's eyebrows are taken, what's up with you eager to stash the labyrinth of english suburbia of north london into your pocket you ******* **** i only asked, 'cos you're a bit of a bother, alright?* oh you want to watch your teeth turn into gnats with that selfie; explain? punch! hey, the flies are all randomly fizzing in flight! bzz buzz buzz bzz, they got the hang of it, they sold the spider the architectural plans of the spiderweb.
0
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
sunrise
Beatboxing like a tyrant speaking so loud they frown and look down, down, down, down Into the dark abyss, where they reminsnse, my head dog like vicious, **** them with the flow, a wave, tsunami kid, kid, kid So wet, she is, was when I went to chase that waterfall, so buzzed, like a bee bzz zzz zzz. How can this be? Best believe we scheme, dream, leap, reap, sweep during the current states and matter we form with our works makes us levitate. When we awake. Hey, you awake? When we awakened. Kin, walk and talk as we can and plan to understand man and women in the land, Truth is Held in God and constant faith brings Grace in All
0
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
Awake
She sat with her arms folded across from me, she told me a story of a lovely, little, lonely bee, She said, it bumbled and buzzed towards a big tree, It was mesmerized by how such a big tree came to be, The bee would do circles around the tree in exhilaration, Buzzing bee had a strange feeling of contemplation, So it flew in one spot buzz, bzz , bzz till one day, Another bee came to the exact spot without a word to say, And flew circles, squares just the way he did. She told me the moral of the story that, Although the two bees never had a chance to meet, If fate intertwined they met and will continue to meet, She places her hand on top of my hand on the table, I looked at her with a playful smile here.... "Do you think feat is the present of fate....eat ate?" A smile lit across her face and I felt I knew of certainty once again.
0
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
Bees and Trees
you make me buzz baby i want you to know that i'm no longer in control it's all moving within itself buzz, baby, you make me buzz i want you to know everywhere and all throughout reality is threatening to crash down around me but it's okay, i don't mind here is where i am now i am here right now and i'm abuzz, baby i just wanted you to know
0
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
bzz
Psstt... *** bim bam Rawr roar ruwr Beep boop biip Bzz booing bssst There’s a whisper “You’re weak, disgrace, a failure” Von Gogh ? Tesla ? Napoleon ? Wondering... I finally understand I really do Maybe its true We were really dead when no ones remember us even blood still flows in our body
0
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 10:57 PM UTC
Whistleblowers
sometimes, when my depression sinks in i won't shower for days i'd rather smoke **** and sink into my bedroom i let my mind melt, bees circling the inside of my brain in a low hum when they hum too loud, i smoke again
0
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
bzz ZZ zzz bz bz bz