"calander" poems
you are
friday night dinners and
red lip stained coffee cups
and family photos and skilled
sarcasm and twelve trips to
disney and your love for
avocados and adventure. you
are sunday morning bike rides
and hand written letters and
power outages with candlit ghost
stories and week long sleepovers and
summer dresses and worn out boots
and accident prone vacations and
themed birthday parties and forgetfulness
and gerbera daisies and singing too loudly
and too off key and GOOD mistakes and
better memories
you are constellations and sea glass and colliding galaxies
and sometimes the calander turns
like a lottery and once in a blue moon
you can find a girl with fractured
sapphires in her irises and a heart too
big for her ribcage and a spine as strong
as a lightning bolt
so thank you january twenty sixth,
for michele.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
if i could
i'd lasso the wyoming wind
and ride it like a wild mare to wherever it is that you now call home
you'd find me pounding on the door
with a bottle of whiskey in my white-knuckled fist
and a bubble machine eating the paint off your late model car
and how far i'd come to find you would instantly become irrelevant when you'd smile
it's been a while
i still catch myself wondering if you catch yourself wondering about me
and the places i've seen since i last saw you
lacing up your boots and diving head first into the blue of early evening
you didn't even tell me that you'd be leaving
but you did tell me a thing or two
about the birds
and the trees
and the sea
and your heart
the way it missed beats like i miss stop signs
and you'd once said that it was scared
always waking you up in the middle of the night
and telling you that it's alright to want to run
you sure did seem to be good at running
so i swish scotch between my teeth
and atop my gums
to make my tounge believe in singing
and i climb to the tops of the palisades to slingshot siren songs your way
*"oh won't you stay,
just a little bit l o n g e r..."*
then the record skips
and i slip from my dreaming
back to a shoreline where the washing machine squeeks
and i can be found grinding my teeth
like a lost little god in the grotto
oh
where did we go to
when we left to get old
and brittle
like a tree no good for climbing
we dissolved our youth within the golden glow of nostalgia
marked on a calander long since dead and torched
that fall when we learned to feel
and burried each other beneath the heaps of rotting aspen leaves
"until next time, my darling."
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
What is life with no loving
What is a kitchen wit no oven
What is a sentence with no verbs
What is a poem with no words
What is a word with no letters
What is a bird with no feathers
What is good with no bad
What is happy with no sad
What is lite with no dark
What is fire with no spark
What is heaven with no hell
What is quiet with no yell\'
What is a calander with no date
What is life with no hate
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 2:47 AM UTC
I saw you coming
Where is the herd you asked
Who is your sheppard I said
You looked at your arm and I knew
You were looking for a clock
I told you most certainly
I won't abide a calander
Walk beside me if that's what you want
But I advise you most respectfully
To part from me get back to your flock
I need only rest
I'm content for a brief while
But with the coming of a new day
I will take another just like you
To live - that's a sheppard tending a flock
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
i dont remember writing your birthday on my calander
but i don't see why i should
when the point of having it there in the first place
is so i don't have to remember these important dates
rather, just how to read a chart
but August 27th was always your square
even before i drew candles in the corner
and i dont need a flipbook to tell me how to remember
the anniversary of someone like you
still i wish you'd remember mine
maybe you should try writing it down
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 10:39 PM UTC
You are not a number
Like a calander, keeping track
Like the data of your sobriety
Or the days you kept counting, in order to see progress
You are not a percentage
Like on a computer listing your school progress
Like the calculations you make of whether you belong or not
You are human
Special in many ways
Different, but unique
But most importantly,
You are you
One of a kind
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
One X on the calander and a cup of luke warm coffee
The sidewalk chalk is like padlocks on my feet,
But they cant stop me
Through a static phone line, I can still hear you talking
Nothing of the nice sorts-
It is impure and not godly
Your perception of me slips through the cracks of you teeth
Bitter and raw things you breathe
Your voice is muddy and meek
Another X on the calander
Not a lot of sleep in between
I am wondering where your love went, because it doesnt live here
How many Xs on the calander?
A few weeks? A month? A year?
Both the liquor and the answer is clear
Long car rides spent swallowing sentences
Its a muffled radio, singing along with the tention
Where did you heart go? Every beat a lease of absence
Where did you put it? In a drawer or a cabnet?
How many Xs on the calander will it be till I once again have it
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
3, 6, 9, 12 months
Counting the days like a child does
A child you always claimed I was,
Oh I feel better and better as the numbers go up
Looking at the calander now I am proud
Of the woman I have become
The woman you never thought I was
And free from what my foolish heart thought was love
Because I have kissed the lips of fate
And those lips had an entirely different taste
I felt the hand of a real man, who wiped tears from my face
Every time I look at him I am more then okay
I am great
A year ago today, and man, that went by fast
A year ago today I was latched onto my past
But today I can look at your face and laugh, and laugh, and laugh
3, 6, 9, 12 amazing months
Planning the days like a grown woman does
And spending those days with a man worthy of my love
My body has regenerated cells that you have NEVER touched
What a great year this has been and was!
Oh, I feel stronger and stronger as the numbers go up
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC