"carolyn" poems
Me: RIGHT! I DON'T DESERVE WHAT I WANT BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING!
him: I never said that sweetie.
Me: YOU ******* IMPLIED IT
I never ask for anything because you always ******* say no!
Every time you trust me and I'm good you take away my privledesg
so whats there to stop me from doing whatever the **** i want?
I mean, seriously
Like, ARGH!!!
Dad: Carolyn, calm down, you need to look at this with logic.
Me: I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY I'M YELLING! THIS ISNT THAT ******* BIG A DEAL!
GOD!
UGH!
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Started with
Happy New Year
spelled out
in rails of *******
carefully measuring
which letter
was largest
each of us got one
you
remember.
Carolyn
came with me
she was dressed in red
she figured that bowl
of quualudes
was
all meant for her.
The gang was all there
passing out gifts
rusted out back scratchers
found in the garage
no kids yet.
Sheraton spoke in mysteries
his wife Jane
hustled me behind the shed
Joaquin
was drunk on his knees again
screaming for ***** and poetry
Patti
had recently found recovery
and I was spending my time
trying to convince her to drink.
The party didn't begin
until
Mary and Stuart arrived
our personal gurus
took us all
one step higher.
Olivia and Aaron
had
much to hide.
Davey
was
the ring master.
We
didn't have to go to the circus
we were the circus.
Little Feat
were still willing
the Dobbie Brothers
in high pitch
were still chillin
the Dead played amazing riffs
Bob Dylan was street legal
the Boss was depressed
the
sound track to our lives.
I gotta job
working in a drug free program
all the staff
sat in a VW van
having a staff meeting
and
passing a joint.
Carolyn and I
kinda got married
had a big party
I knew I was in trouble when
she launched herself
on the bed of gifts
and tried to swim
up stream.
I
learned all the messages
of
Alanon
in one brief flash
Everything passes
everything changes
we all know that.
I got a real job I wasn't qualified for
missed a deadline at school
tossed out on my ***
no 26 year old
Ph.D.
for me
just another suicide
on the horizon
saw my grandmother
and
the white light
but
also at the job
met the future mother
of my children
and of course
she was to be
my
future ex-wife.
When Carolyn found this out
she
brought
a gun to my work
to
tell me what she
thought about that
it ended all right
on that night.
I lived in Laurel Canyon
in a beautiful garden
on Wonderland Avenue
John Holmes
was my neighbor
bigger than life.
1978
It ended as it started
with *******
the big chill crowd
together again
one last look back at the year
in
Super 8
Davey's traditional dance as historian
for the year that passed
one last look
and
farewell.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
I’m always glad to hear your ***** is doing well. Their temperament is, as always, forever hard to tell. I heard that Mercy Lane had to have hers declawed. It scratched her over quite a bit and left her slightly flawed. All the things I know of friends fly from my mouth like birds, but idle gossip I should not spread when purpose steers my words. With weighted heart I tell you the reason that I write. The man she feared used tempered words and put her down tonight. I didn’t know my ***** was tame ‘til she laid heel for him. She rolled right ‘round under his palm and shocked me to the brim. Little more did I suspect that she would now submit, especially when his liquid voice just set her teeth to grit. He oozed some words and touched her sides and caused her eyes to glaze. Then, when we were both sound asleep, he shattered her to haze. It burst me out of all my dreams to find myself worn thin. Now I don’t know what to do without her in my skin. Tell me now, my dearest friend, what should I do hence? Should I let him have me too, or rise to her defense? The only problem seems to be I’m without her; she’s me.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 3:53 AM UTC
I feel like our relationship
was too short.
Too many times did I take
your
******* in my fingers
and listen
for the ocean.
Your stomach
was fired in a kiln,
and still tastes like heat.
In your bed
we made out,
with t-shirts on,
and I slid my fingers
underneath cotton
because I wanted to
play in your belly button
and work the clay.
I know that you like to
Dance in fields
with cotton
on your lips
and talk to God.
Talk to him
in a subterfuge
of light,
and not in the marrow
of darkness.
Our relationship was too short,
because we snuck liquor
into dark theatres,
and left bottles in the aisles
like empty artillery.
We kissed in your car
and never cleaned up.
I had breakfast over at your house once,
and met your mother twice.
And it seems the alpine
was too much for me,
because I never took you to the mountains
even when you asked.
Carolyn,
when I see you
again,
I will take you to Appalachia;
as far from the ocean
as we can humanly get.
Carolyn when I see you
again,
I will not eat the fruit
of the fired bowl,
and will not
think of playing
with clay.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
Left and Right.
Always fighting for first place,
always wanting control.
Never having a say in who I am...
It's up to Left and Right to decide.
I'm split right down the middle,
with an invisible line.
No one on the outside can see
but on the inside,
Left and Right are completely different.
Left, full of love and happiness.
Right, nothing but hatred and death.
Left
Happy, cheerful, loving.
Beautiful, smiling, talented.
Confident, humorous, graceful.
Soft, balanced, free.
Carolyn.
Right
Ugly, mad, full of hate.
Evil, scarred, twisted.
Trapped, invisible, lost.
Angry, ****** disgraceful.
Abigayle.
When will they finally make up their minds,
Those Left and Right,
Who will I get to be?
When can I be at peace with myself,
or rather, when can we be at peace
with each other.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
You are an eight-bit heart attack,
a box of dynamite in the basement
of a match factory.
You don't explode me,
you implode me, I struggle
to keep it all in;
to stay together.
Call it crazy, unreasonable,
sadistic, but this is too deliberate.
Call me a Kennedy, baby.
I die for you.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
"You're drunk
you
need it." - Lykke Li.
Don't puke
this time,
make it the seed
instead of the giving earth.
The earth pukes in fire,
and that hurts the belly.
Trust me when I say
I'm stupid,
and that I'm staying.
I have been with Heather,
I have been with Carolyn,
I have been with Gnat,
I have been with Yolanda.
I have ****** all of them.
Every single one
has not touched
as fatally
as you
and you have undone
the ropes
inside of me.
The unbound package
is
disaster.
It signals the death of promise.
But it gives in the lighthouse
of love.
I cross the fog,
I trample
the destinations
of rain,
I laugh at thunder.
No storm is greater than
you.
So replace me,
disown me,
hate me.
I love you,
and that will not leave
in the night,
like werewolves
after dawn.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
Here's a challenge for any poet out there...and a tiny bit of critique, on this site many of the poems are about the same subject, love, sadness, the blackness of life, suicide, hate for the life they are in, nature. And they are often times very general. What about something more specific, a moment, an event, a person,
Here's the challenge:
Find one of your favorite poets and pick a poem you like by them. Look at the subject matter and write a poem of your own using the same or a similar subject matter. Leave your poem in the comments section...
Here's my poet and poem i picked:
The Morning Baking
Grandma, come back, I forgot
How much lard for these rolls
Think you can put yourself in the ground
Like plain potatoes and grow in Ohio?
I am **** sick of getting fat like you
Think you can lie through your Slovak?
Tell filthy stories about the blood sausage?
Pish-pish nights at the ****** in Detroit?
I blame your raising me up for my Slav tongue
You beat me up out back, taught me to dance
I'll tell you I don't remember any kind of bread
Your wavy loaves of flesh
Stink through my sleep
The stars on your silk robes
But I'm glad I'll look when I'm old
Like a gypsy dusha hauling milk
by Carolyn Forché
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Down in the grotto we’d go to swim
Whenever the tide was high
And pouring into the basin there,
At low tide it was dry,
I’d go with the Percival sisters
Who would laugh and call and dive,
While bursting out of their suits, it seemed
A time to be alive.
While Carolyn had the bigger *******
Brittany had the thighs,
Carolyn had the sweetest smile
But Brittany had the eyes,
I never could choose between them for
I loved them both the same,
They’d flaunt themselves in the grotto pool
To them it was just a game.
The light would glimmer within the cave
Reflect off the grotto walls,
And from the roof would echo again
The sound of the girls catcalls,
We’d swim, then climb on a ledge of rock
To dry ourselves in the air,
And listen to water lapping in
From the mouth of the cave out there.
They often would try to bully me
To say who I loved the best,
I’d always say that I loved them both
And they’d say I failed the test,
So one day, standing upon the ledge
They both peeled their costumes off,
And said, ‘now tell us the one you love
Or haven’t you seen enough.’
The sisters’ beauty caught at my throat
And took the most of my breath,
I’d never seen them naked before
Nor since, I swear on my death,
I couldn’t answer, so they got mad
And flung me into the pool,
Then swam around me, ******* and legs
Determined to play the fool.
Brittany trapped me between her thighs
While Carolyn pushed me down,
The water swirled at my head so long
I thought I was going to drown,
But finally they’d had enough of me
Holding me down, submersed,
And I shot up to the surface then
Thinking my lungs would burst.
It’s years since ever we went to swim
Together again, all three,
For finally I had to make a choice,
Which one would marry me.
Brittany’s now my loving wife
For I found between her thighs,
In the grotto swim, when she squeezed me in,
The truth in a world of lies.
David Lewis Paget
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
wrapped up on green fields
and blue skies, cotton couldn't
keep us warm through the
wintertime, laughter kept us
active, barefoot on hard tracks,
our lives were consumed by
three-minute-rhymes,
our hearts all melted for
the same person, her name
was carolyn, on the brink of
adulthood, we laugh until we
are drowning in tears just
thinking about those times,
blonde days, puppy love,
wintertime sunshine,
the closest of friends,
the lack of similar
bloodstreams and
the difference in
our skin tones
will not change the
brotherhood
that will last
for the rest
of our
lives
- t.m
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
At night I walked in the winter months
By the banks of an old canal,
Where the barges lit their ghostly lamps
Like the wake of a funeral,
They would glide in those silent waters
With their silence like a shroud,
The horse at the end of the towrope
Passed me by, its head unbowed.
They sat so low in the water with
Their tons of pitch black coal,
The coal dust covered their livery
And of course, the paint was old,
A single steersman sat aloft
At the rear, and he looked ahead,
The black cut-out of a silhouette
Of a man that could be dead.
One night ahead of a hump-backed bridge
Where the towpath passed below,
The mist was a thick grey swirling mass
As the horse passed by me, slow,
I saw the glow of the ghostly lamp
And then as the barge appeared,
Just nosing out of the bank of fog
I thought that the bow looked weird.
For glistening under the ghostly lamp
And over the cabin door,
I saw a stream of something damp,
Was it mud, or blood, or gore?
I waited until the barge had passed
With the steersman, in my fright,
And I called out ****** ******
‘You should look to your bow tonight.’
And the steersman muttered ‘Carolyn’,
In a voice both muted, low,
His voice came whispering back to me,
‘She shouldn’t have used me so.’
I saw his cardboard cut-out turn
In the glow of the ghostly lamp,
But then the barge slipped into the mist
Along with its ****** stamp.
I didn’t know where it disappeared
On its voyage into the mist,
Along with its grisly cargo though
Its name was ‘Amethyst’,
But Carolyn lay aboard somewhere
In a pool of her blood as well,
As that barge would nose its way through mist
To enter the gates of hell.
David Lewis Paget
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
The trees all bow to you there
The sun knows that it is welcome
And it graciously gives me smiles
I wear them like overalls
My feet meet clay
I can tell I was born here
That this is the clay
This is the clay that bore me
And I want to scream, “WAIT”
Because you all are missing this
This is the meaning
Or at least the place where meaning is found
In this moment
The ground feels cool and ripe with ideas
With art
With love
(With youth and pain)
With feelings
I’d know this place anywhere
Like a caged bird knows it has a nest
Out there
somewhere
And I want to whisper (wait)
Because to yell at this place
Would crumble it and me to the ground
This is were my soul lives
Because the trees all bow to you there
And the sun knows it is always welcome
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
All in the audio of our room and what was said.
but for those who could hear, here is a parting gift.
Love you all.
Carolyn Wonderland performs "Victory of Flying" on The Texas Music Scene
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4gzNLthBM8
(thank you Carolyn Wonderland for the "keeping my head Low." and keeping Lo in the heart where she belongs.)
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
He never came out in the daytime, though
He’d always come out at night,
I’d hear his feet, pass in the street
By the gaslamp’s feeble light,
He’d peer through the frosted window glass
And I swear that he always hissed,
Whenever I opened the trap, he’d gone
A-swirl in the yellow mist.
We huddled under the chimney piece,
We huddled under the stair,
Whenever his steps were echoing
From here to the you-know-where,
I tried to protect my Carolyn
Who would shut her eyes and ears,
He had the power, for over an hour
To bring Carolyn to tears.
He’d come when the frost brought icicles
He’d come when the wind would blow,
He’d come when I left her tricycle
Outside, and covered in snow,
And then when the ice on the window ledge
Began to go crack-crack-crack,
She often hid, right under the lid
Where the firewood lay in a stack.
And then when the door blew open, from
A gust in the wind out there,
We’d lie, with fears unspoken
As the creaking rose up the stair,
Then Carolyn shrieked, while I couldn’t speak
For hearing her cries and moans,
As terror spread, from under the bed
And chattered through teeth and bones.
I swore that he wore a big black hat
With a brim that covered his eyes,
Carolyn wrote that he wore a cloak
As part of his dread disguise,
But nobody would believe us, ‘til
We heard he was coming back,
His hobnailed boots on the cobblestones
Approached, a-click and a-clack.
They’d slow, and stop by the outer door
Our hearts in our mouths, alas,
And then his shadow would fall right there
He’d peer through the frosted glass,
The knocker had an echoing sound
As he knocked, went rat-tat-tat,
And mother leapt to the door in a bound,
‘Dear God! It’s Uncle Jack!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
Faceless Caroline square on your breast: it says your name!
Heard them call it out then say Carolyn cause they always think: them's
the same!
YOUR FOOD'S READY! Caroline I heard them good cause I do listen a lot.
I pointed at you and filled you in you laughed got up surprised to find I
wasn't just full of ***
Got your food said thanks a lot and your daughter said 'Hey Kafka!' we
agreed to love him a lot!
I listened to you speak in a foreign tongue, German it was: it was a very
pretty German!
Yeah I read your name right from your striped breast and you looked at
me and sparkled through your glasses I kinda liked it.....
Faceless Caroline oh what a pretty face you coulda been anything but
then you came and ate by me!
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
There’s a time at night when the moon is full
And the breakers pound the beach,
The world is dark and asleep, the gull
Lies nesting at the breach,
It’s then that the stirrings from the depths
Reach out, like a dead man’s hand,
And shortly, out of the rivulets
There are footprints on the sand.
They come ashore and they stand awhile
And they point, this way and that,
Considering well which way to go
As the waves erase their tracks,
Then a breeze picks up and it parts the grass
In a line up from the shore,
And the shape of feet on a farmer’s stile
Are left, till they dry once more.
While up on the rise, a cottage sits
With a single faint night-light,
Its simple beam like a beacon streams
Through the tar-black pitch of night,
While deep inside in a cosy room
Sleeps a girl called Carolyn,
Who tosses fretfully in the gloom
As she dreams the words, ‘Come in!’
The footsteps up from the field below
Stand still at the old front door,
The lock is rusty, the hinges swing
For an inch, or maybe more,
The wind is moaning and soughing now
And the door is soon ajar,
As the footsteps enter that sacred place
Under the evening star.
And Carolyn lies and moans aloud
As his death invades her sleep,
Since ever the depths had formed his shroud
All she had done was weep,
The footprints stood, facing her bed
For an age it seemed, they kept
A silent vigil, there by her head
When she woke, the sheets were wet.
David Lewis Paget
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
We were friends of a sort, when we were young
When we grew, I thought he was weak,
Jumping at shadows in shady lanes,
At jokes that were tongue-in-cheek.
He thought that life was a trap for him
And looked for someone to blame,
He could have been so much more, I thought,
Than he was, and that was a shame.
His soul was timorous, that was true
But he seemed to attract the girls,
They’d give him a shoulder to cry on, when
He was feeling at odds with the world.
They called him ‘Bobby’, that said it all
When he should have been known as Bob,
He never grew to be Bob, I knew
But won their hearts with a sob.
He brought out the motherly instincts in
The girls that he got to know,
They would pet his hair, and say, ‘There there…’
And motion for me to go.
My sweetheart, Carolyn Ainsworth said
That he’d won a place in her heart,
I couldn’t believe she could be so dumb
But her interest tore us apart.
I watched as she moved on into his life
And catered for every whim,
He told me not to approach her then,
She was only there for him.
They moved on into a haunted house
On a plot, with a dog outside,
A wooden house with a creaky gate
Where her grandfather had died.
They married, out on their own front lawn
Then scurried away inside,
He wouldn’t let her out of his sight
But clung to his captive bride.
I never saw her out on her own
He was always there, like a freak,
And pulled her in, like a dog on a leash
Whenever she tried to speak.
I got a note in the mail one day
That was signed by Carolyn,
‘Please come and take me away,’ it said,
‘Oh, what a fool I’ve been!’
I drove on out to the haunted house
But the gate and the doors were barred,
Then she came out to the balcony,
I could tell she was more than scared.
Her eye was blackened and bruised, I saw,
Her lip was swollen and split,
I called ‘Come down!’ and I waved to her,
‘I’ll take you away, my sweet!’
But Bobby came to the balcony
And he dragged her in by the hair,
The doors had slammed and I heard them lock,
And a terrible scream up there.
I vaulted over the creaky gate
And I kicked the front door in,
Then made for the central stair, but fate
Was putting paid to his sin.
A shadowy figure had seized him there
And ****** him against the wall,
Then sent him tumbling down the stairs,
He broke his neck in the fall.
It stood there, glaring down from the top
Then slowly faded away,
I’d never have met her grandfather
If I hadn’t been there that day.
I took her home and I patched her up
But knew that my love had flown,
I see her now and again, she lives
With him in her haunted home.
David Lewis Paget
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Carolyn Sara Echo Bonnie
Helena Su'ze and Faridi
All my babies cry and tease me
All you had to do, drop them then please me
Who knew that hawks could fly at night
Fell off my bike, retired for life
Greenbriar boys will try to tell ya
"I ain't tryin' to gaslight no one fella"
Hey all my girlfriends round and rounder
I'm so glad I grabbed and found her
Here we go, here we go, Big Blue Diamond
Telling everybody I'm one loose cannon
Choo-Choo Choo-Choo long train running
Look at that ****** he's still gunning
Rich man, Rich man, overpaid me
******* off ****** going to save me?
Carolyn Sara Echo Bonnie
Helena Suze and Faridi
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
life happens.
It’s fall, it’s midterms
It’s election time.
New Haven’s giving a lot of fall.
I’ve been starting to feel the chills,
but things are turning cold and extra breezy,
so it all maks sense.
The good and bad can coexist closely,
is our energy dropping? Nope.
Whenever I think of voting,
I go back to American Idol.
My first voting experience.
It was 2009 and I was 14.
I was into Adam Lambert.
he didn’t win, and sure, I felt
a child's appreciable sense of outrage
millions and millions of us did
but we didn’t storm FOX Network
We cried into pillows and took it in stride.
Now Adam sings with Queen.
So I guess it worked out.
.
.
Songs for this
Bohemian Rhapsody by Adam Lambert
Do It Again (feat. Carolyn Leonhart & Robert Smith) by The Juju Orchestra
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 9:22 AM UTC
They said that The Grange was a haunted house,
I said, ‘you’re having me on!’
But no, they said, ‘he’s back from the dead,’
I thought it a giant con.
‘Just spend one night in that house alone
With the power cut off, you’ll see,’
I said, ‘I’ll go, if Carolyn goes,
If Carolyn stays with me.’
Now she was more of a nervous type
But she said, ‘I’ll go with you,
Just promise you won’t make whooshing sounds,
There’s nothing a ghost can do.’
‘There isn’t a ghost,’ I told her then,
They’re all just having us on,
We’ll spend the night, if you feel uptight
I’ll prove that it’s just a con.’
We ventured in through the cobwebbed porch
As the hour was getting late,
The only light we had was a torch
And the fire we lit in the grate,
The Moon came presently shining in
Its ghostly beam through the gloom,
And Carolyn came and cuddled up
As we sat on the floor of the room.
‘Where did they say the ghost would be,’
She asked, as I patted her hair,
I couldn’t say, I was miles away,
Then we heard a creak on the stair.
I thought, ‘Oh no, it will spoil the show,’
I was hoping for just one kiss,
For this was the first time, she and I
Had ever been close, like this.
Then from above there were creaks and groans,
It came stumbling down the stair,
It looked like a bundle of rags and moans
And a skull, with eyes that glare,
Carolyn screamed as it reached for her
This thing from another world,
It bubbled and rasped in its throat, and said
One word that I think was ‘Girl’.
It must have remembered from days before
It had held a girl like this,
Death had never erased the thought,
Or the feeling that was bliss,
But now, the rags of the grave were foul
It gave off a graveyard stench,
And Carolyn, all she could do was howl,
This alive and lovely *****
What seemed to me an apparition
A ghost in empty air,
Was rotting flesh and bones to Carolyn
Tangled in her hair,
It held her in a grip of steel
As it probed beneath her dress,
I couldn’t even fight it off
For to me, it was stagnant breath.
They came to us in the dawning light
With a key to let us out,
I lay as in a palsied dream
But I heard them scream and shout,
‘What have you done to Carolyn,’
But they were to late to save,
For she had gone where the ghost had gone,
To join him in the grave.
David Lewis Paget
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 3:53 AM UTC
As my friend Carolyn Knight reminded me, she said, "This is a Winter to be Remembered." To put up with the bad weather, we all have been hindered.
I have never experienced, so much snow to fall. Not just upon the roof, but snow upon the wall.
This snow would come, not for one day, but two and three times a week. When it began to melt, it produced a lot of leaks.
Whenever it snowed, life came to a stand still. What you were experiencing, actually were real.
This is a Winter, I will never forget. I never experienced a Winter where I almost got upset.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
We call the outcasts, to stitch these wounds together in our beautiful remains.
Children surrender knives and pens,
they give up their perfect weapon.
The mortitians daughter, carolyn, brings up all your hate.
Fire rages in irony as it is heaven's calling.
No matter how tough times may be, never give in, never back down.
This is our sweet blasphemy.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 11:40 PM UTC