"charlotte" poems
Do you remember the garden?
Do you remember the garden?
Where
we
lived.
The Charlotte roses filled the wild,
peace was uncaged, unbroken,
and the dragons and doves flew together,
And the thousand horses ran free.
And the thousand horses ran free.
I notice resting inside your eyes
and heart hasn't been so hard. Wrestling for you,
holding you,
like a child, it hasn't
been so different.
I'm taking you back there, Eve
into the Land of Eden,
just drink of my lips
a little longer and you'll remember
and see.
Do you like to dance, Eve?
Let me make your imagination full
Then let me bring it to war as we step
into it's gates.
Let’s Dance.
For the wind of the evening
still weaves dreams between
the heavens and the earth.
There. Look.
For your heart outshines the moon, I see the hurt, the regret
The pain in the pool of you precious eyes.
And I still see you, I still love you
For you.
I hear the rhythm of your breath
and dreams, the electricity and earth
of your voice. I see the blood written
words in your heart, let me show you what
they are.
Now see the memories come
together, as you believe.
The endless garden,
the red cedars,
the cool four rivers crashing
near the rock, where we once slept.
And look, where we hid.
See, like I promised you, we are here again,
we are here.
Where the petals sip the dew upon
the face of the earth.
where the rain and the moonlight has
not fallen.
Now look at the stars, Eve. Everyone of those stars
are named, the star of Orion, the Bear,
and Leo, everyone of them.
Everyone of them will fall
Everyone of them,
Everyone of them.
So don't be afraid in your pain
in your feelings,
just come to me.
For you can take my hand,
and be safe in my arms of
love. Even when it all falls.
Even when it all comes crashing down.
Just
Trust me.
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
When he was young Mom and Dad would come too, but each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes on Saturdays or Tuesdays they would go, but
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes through the rain,
sometimes through the snow,
sometimes through the fog, and
especially through the sunshine, each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the park.
When Jim was 12, his parents allowed Jim
to adopt a puppy from the Animal Shelter.
Jim named named the Puppy Al. Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park
Soon after Jim's parents stopped walking in the park
because Jim felt he was too old to walk with Mom and Dad . Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park and
Jim would think about his Mom and Dad and
carry them in his heart
Jim and Al got older and went off to College in Boston. Each
Sunday Jim and Al would walk in the Park.
One Sunday Jim met Sara in the Park, from then on each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara and Sara's dog Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara graduated from College and found jobs and each
Sunday, Jim Al, Sara, and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara had a baby girl they named Emily, and each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
But one year as Al got older he was unable to make the walk any more
and soon he passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the park and carry the memories of Al and Mom and Dad in their hearts. And soon, Jim and Sara had another child that they named Bob. Each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily, Charlotte and of course Bob would walk in the Park
And because dogs don't live as long as humans Charlotte too got older and and soon she too passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Bob would walk in the park
and carry the memories of Al, Charlotte Mom and Dad with them
in their hearts.And the years passed, Emily and Bob got older, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara and sometimes Emily and Bob would walk in the park.
Then Emily left and went to College and soon after Bob did too, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara would walk in the park and talk of Bob and Emily
and sometimes of Al and Charlotte and Jim's parents and Sara's parents."
Then Sara passed, Cancer, inoperable stage four, Still
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park and think about Sara and Bob and Emily and and Al and Charlotte, some
Sunday's Jim would get a little tear, other Sunday's a little smile as he remembered the good times and the bad.
Copyright 2010 Michael Lee Williams.
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 11:46 AM UTC
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
daily grind
sleep of mine
five hours small
so short so tall.
monotone, polite,
bubbly, smite.
"you always give him crap"
redhead hiatus.
Charlotte?
"What the hell?"
******** try to steal your show.
Jesus Christ;
these are the days I cherish
Feb 2, 2011
Feb 2, 2011 at 12:36 PM UTC
A girl named Karma came running thrue the forest
branches breaking under her boots
her hair glowing in the sunlight that escapes thrue the leaves of the oak trees
a golden gold in all the green
the grass is lime and the taste in her mouth sour as the fruit
on her head is placed a crown of flowers
they smell as spring but look like summer
red like the apples that grows in her garden
the garden that surrounds her home on top of the universe
here she spends her life in the cold air surrounded by winter
here she isn't the princess, she is the queen
a beautiful queen with beautiful scars cut by knives
eyes ****** and bold like stones
she herself is an open wound
like the screaming song a fallen bird sings
when it has left the nest and has to follow its own voice
A girl named Karma
like the myths of the fairies
she is beautiful, skin pale like marmour
and eyes standing out in her sharpened features
her jaw tightened as she walks towards the storm and takes what is rightfully hers
to save her people from the enemies in an armor of bones
the bones of the monsters under her bed
They called her Charlotte
as in “free man”
a royal name from The North
that was their biggest mistake…
...they should have named her Karma
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
In early eighteen-forty-four,
In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor,
Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid,
Had her throat slit with a steel blade,
She crossed fast streams and deadly bogs,
Found her way through mists and fogs,
But couldn’t stop that fatal blow,
That stole her life and laid her low,
She walked to meet someone that day,
Just who that was ... no one would say,
Found days later beside a track,
Laid on a cart; her shroud a sack,
The surgeon, Thomas Good, was fetched,
Had in his mind, her white face etched,
Charlotte untouched by fox or crow,
Had she been moved ... he did not know,
No evidence was ever found,
But her young boyfriend had gone to ground,
Fingers so quick to point his way,
Matthew Weeks panicked; ran away,
The hapless ******* was soon caught,
No other culprit was ever sought,
The judge was just a rubber-stamp,
Bodmin Gaol was dark and damp,
The scaffold built, the crowds arrived,
Matthew swore he had not lied,
The floor gave way, the rope drew tight,
Was justice done ... the verdict right?
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
Dark skies now roll overhead
The sunlight disappears as the day ends
My thoughts now go back six years
To a night in maternity awaiting your birth
The fear when the midwife said it was going wrong
The joy when later I held you in my arms
You and Emily Rose will never read my prose
That's ok because those who do
Know your daddy loves you
And that's enough
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
The sun bled infection
Mother Nature wept at all this mess.
they was all runts made of litter
& was done away with each other
before they seent they was
one with each other &
it bothered Father Time so
he shot Big Brother &
Little Sister down with his nine
& god daughter blind saw
the whole slaughter but
thought the whole thing was
pretty much black and white.
Do away with em all, Charlotte.
doused in scarlet charlatan-
lifted inhibition
her golden hearted
harlot trickery
speaks of defeat in victories;
he lived in his liquor
to prevent from feelin
too sick with himself
same reason
he sticks himself with needles
treating diseases
no one but them can see &
feeding to the need of the queen
to keep the screams quiet for the night
& keep the hive alive alright
& thriving vibrant
lest the fiends get violent
& riot inside their minds.
then there's a problem.
but problems is made for solvin.
zoom out, island of lost babies
where they got Wilbur's head on a stake
speaking zen
the monster live within &
we're just seeing in others
a reflection of ourselves.
breathe in, buddha.
burn slow.
move steady or
lose your head.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
She comes many times
completely unexpected,
On padded paws,
Silent and stealthy.
Not a hint she is near
'till she jumps in your lap
and meows her first greeting.
Though so softly, as to not,
wake even a sleeping baby.
She is sweet beyond belief,
wants only to be loved
and give love in return.
She never insists like some
women I have known,
Rather she waits until
you're completely done eating.
Soft Hypnotic gray eyes
intense in their gaze captures,
at once your full attention,
Then gently she places her
tiny head right in your hand,
Seeking your touch of affection.
Her motor purring starts,
growing ever loud and louder.
Then she begins rhythmically,
Kneading your chest or stomach
with her front paws as she would
have done her own mommy,
But it' s not milk she seeks,
it is love from her human,
physical, emotional contentment.
She would sit all night,
in my lap if I let her,
yet she can sense when
I have had enough,
Knows when to quickly,
quietly take her leave.
Truly not many,
females like her.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
What gave you your direction?
What made you want to write?
What ever was the reason
that saw you editing all night?
Perhaps you loved Lord Byron
or for you was Poe the man
or maybe Keats or Dr. Seuss,
with his green eggs and ham.
What had you writing poetry?
Who did you want to be?
The answer to that question
is an easy one for me.
You'll probably howl
when you hear of my choice.
He's hardly a Jane Austin
or Helen Steiner Rice.
And it wasn't Charlotte Bronte
who gave to me the thrill.
But a little fat comedien
with the name of Benny Hill.
As a youngster I remember
his rather raunchy rhymes
that some would look at with contempt
but they did that in those times.
I just remember that he creased me up
and I would laugh and laugh all day.
I would memorise and tell to friends
when we all went out to play.
As the years went on and I read the greats
everything grew in my mind.
I read and read my poetry
anything that I could find.
But of all the brilliant scholars
that have written and do still.
None will grace my heart and make me feel
like that poet Benny Hill.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Hands, plural to make us one
Near the end of August the heat told me to stop
It's vicious, wanting you
No milder than the jaws of winter
And every person not you cuts
On the street, our wounded lips
Before October and on silver screens
Your face projected on everything
You wanted the cinema, I thought
So I spoke fumbled niceties at your door
But the camera was stuck in my eye
And the words I scripted shifted into your mouth
The breaths I take, the breaths I shout
Your smile corroded in the rain
Your endless longing,
My endless shame
It keeps me in this thought
That what I feel has no name
But the credits crept up with the dregs of December
Money is noisy, and I liked your quietudes
But the snow will blanket my blood-buoyant bright
And I will drown into night
To lay by you until dawn
To lay by you until you are gone
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
In the beginning there was light
and so much fight to be drunk into
our very bones, not an eye sunk in,
nobody drunk except on finger paint
and what the stars might taste like
when we thought stars were small,
when there wasn’t far to fall,
before the white-tiled kitchen floors
grew too far away for us to notice
the texture of the black mortar
that held them in place like Elmer’s glue.
School is a bright maze of halls
that we walk through hand in hand
and mark our heights against the wall,
unsure whether to fly or to stall and stay close.
Our eyes are level as we hopscotch
round the ankles of women and men;
I think we’re going to be friends.
They weave a Charlotte’s web of pigtails
and bright red balloons, but isn’t it just
true that we feel safe close to ground,
tempted upward by gold and warmth
but torn, for the kitchen floor is close
and nice and cool, and doesn’t burn us
to the touch.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
A girl named Karma came running thrue the forest
branches breaking under her boots
her hair glowing in the sunlight that escapes thrue the leaves of the oak trees
a golden gold in all the green
the grass is lime and the taste in her mouth sour as the fruit
on her head is placed a crown of flowers
they smell as spring but look like summer
red like the apples that grows in her garden
the garden that surrounds her home on top of the universe
here she spends her life in the cold air surrounded by winter
here she isn't the princess, she is the queen
a beautiful queen with beautiful scars cut by knives
eyes ****** and bold like stones
she herself is an open wound
like the screaming song a fallen bird sings
when it has left the nest and has to follow its own voice
A girl named Karma
like the myths of the fairies
she is beautiful, skin pale like marmour
and eyes standing out in her sharpened features
her jaw tightened as she walks towards the storm and takes what is rightfully hers
to save her people from the enemies in an armor of bones
the bones of the monsters under her bed
They called her Charlotte
as in “free man”
a royal name from The North
that was their biggest mistake…
...they should have named her Karma
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
Calm and cosy
Curled up in my cotton tomb,
Transported back to the womb,
Where I dreamt endlessly.
There I smelt my life
Imminent, timid,
But ****** and vivid;
Here it is different
And deadly.
My life reeks of decay
As it burns away;
I taste the ash of my lungs,
Anaesthetised, desensitized,
Stupefied and condemned.
Scorched by conflagration,
Numbed by smoke,
But I do not choke
Just sleep
And keep on dreaming.
My cotton tomb ablaze,
A-kindle and consuming,
Collapses while still fuming,
Swallows me as I slumber
Or so I thought.
My maid she came a-wandering,
A-wondering,
And saw me here a-slumbering
In my cotton tomb of fire.
I felt her drown my death,
Extinguish Hell,
Restore my breath,
And I awoke in a fit of passion,
‘Deuce take me, what has happened?’
The timid creature,
Like newborn life,
Stood trembling, as well as I,
But told the tale
From start to end.
I implored of her
To not say a word;
The events of which have occurred
Are our secret –
Instead I enclosed her in my arms
As rapture seized me in its jaws,
Dragged me back from Death’s door
And threw me at her feet.
I praised her long
My preserver, my protection,
Then let her shivering form go
In the wake of my affection.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
They sell sandwiches and little nightmares with vanity inside.
i glide to a booth and schmooze the next wet group of compromised -
And Charlotte's web
of insular jokes,
snare me from outside my comfort zone...
and i own the green eggs and ham of our sepia tone in the septic lake
of our laughing groan.
We enjoy the view.
I drink to be We and Apart from you.
But the kegs dredge.
They plunder the blunderbuss of our best shot. With Silencer.
We crowd loudly in the Big Easy of our modern strife.
We scrape with dull Lives,
save those with sharp Eyes that see spigots
as unseen Blithe !
We gather in the Hemisphere of our Wanton Anonymity,
as divulged mirrors
in a House
of Cards....
All of my Best Jokes
are Friends
With hearts....
and Then
some...
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
All Again For You- We The Kings
You were everything that's bad for me
Pheromone Cvlt - Letlive.
All the boys will grow up to be those broken men
Follow You- Bring Me the Horizon
So you can drag me through Hell if it meant I could hold your hand
Boston- Moose Blood
Bored with nothing to do, but lay around listening to Deja Entendu thinking about you..
Come Home - Tonight Alive
Laying under the light of the full moon and I would give anything to be there with you.
Drown - Bring Me the Horizon
What doesn't destroy you, leaves you broken instead
All Along The Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
But you and I we've been through that and this is not our fate
Dreamers Disease- Letlive.
While I’m out here making history, you’re making love
True Friends - Bring Me the Horizon
Karma has no deadline
Better Off This Way - A Day to Remember
When will you act your age
The Divine Zero - Pierce The Veil
Maybe I can swim into your thoughts like your drugs do
The Other Side - Tonight Alive
I meant it every time I said I love you; And there are so many things I wanted to say, but I was a mess.
Lane Boy - TwentyOnePilots
I know a thing or two about pain and darkness; Who would you live and die for on that list
The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot-Brand New
You say you wanted a solution; you just wanted to be missed
Your Guardian Angel- Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
How this world turns cold and breaks through my soul
Cardiology- Good Charlotte
No book that I can find has the answer, a medicine can't cure the fact that I'm still yours
All My Heart- Sleeping With Sirens
I could have been better and stronger for you and me
Vanilla Twilight - Owl City
Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone; Oh if my voice could reach back through the past
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
I open the old, dusty attic window
Closed for so long, house of another Charlotte
And though it takes time, and the dust,
Still, I open the old, dusty attic window.
I had no plans on sneezing, no dust
will make me sneeze, is what I said
And I had time to spare, if there ever
was time to be nostalgic, it was this.
I open, open the old, dusty attic window
And see, through both black and white and
colored, simultaneously, I see the memories
Flashing back, like they weren't mine.
Are they real? Yes, they are. They just
don't feel like they come from me.
More like I'm audience inside me
Through the old, dusty attic window.
I play through the see-saw, and
slide down the slide, swing through
the swing, all the while with
different, many, many different people.
But she is the one I remember most.
She makes me sneeze, from the dust.
I should have known, and I sit
And watch the two of us, just the two of us.
How she would share the slide, and
push my swing with her might
And how I'd refuse to let her play
Just make her push me, and push.
How she'd be the tag, and look
and look for me, only to realize
That I have left her, have left
her counting, and hoping, and alone.
How I'd push her so she'd hurt
herself. How I'd almost push her so
she'd still get hurt anyway. How
she'd look up and smile and stand.
How she'd sometimes go quiet, some-
times go sad, though she'd never
really show, and still smile, and
push my swing and play with me.
How I'd turn my back when I think
she needed me most, and convince
myself that for some reason she
deserved it, to be alone.
And I wonder now, when I turned my
back, did she ever cry? Was I important
enough to have called to surface
The tears she so effectively can hide?
Did she love me enough that she
could endure? Or was I nothing so
she could shrug off the
bullyings that I did?
And I close the old, dusty attic window
Because she makes the dust make me sneeze.
And I still sneeze, because she always could,
Always, make the dust make me sneeze.
And now that she's in another playground
With more willing playmates who don't leave
Her alone in hide & seek, I wish to go
back and have her again.
And I think if I could have moved on
To the next playground with her, would
she still have played with me,
Although she is well-loved by others?
And I know (like I always have, only that I was
too selfish to acknowledge) that I have
hurt her, and she did not deserve
But still she stayed with me.
And I will always sneeze from her dust
Her way to remind me, my way to remind me
That for all the times she smiled, for all the times I
hurt her, I hurt myself more.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 7:45 AM UTC
This flower cut,
Whilst in full bloom,
Now rests in peace,
Within this tomb.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
I scurry to my hunting grounds
I eat anything, I eat it down
Gorging, hording, enjoyment from toiling,
what is gross is Sustenance from my playground,
I'll piggyback off of you
Here Piggy Piggy
let me have a chew...
I'm charged with saving a life?
it's going to cost you...
I'm no ****
just a rat for hire...
if you live on scraps
of the vile,
would you be gallant?
Not even for a while.
My dump is a sanctuary,
it will save your life Wilbur...
oink oink oink,
I'm Templeton the rat
the dump is my hero.
(I played the role of Templeton the Rat in a Theatre production of Charlotte's Web in December 2009).
http://www.elgintheatreguild.ca
http://www.robross.ca
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 11:01 PM UTC
Calling all lovers,
Attendtion; Please read this. Time is
Really lost. The room is spinning,
Don't forget there are other fish in the sea, just jump
In and dive for them. They should be there with
Open arms, waiting.
Love can be a magically thing--
On with the show already. Ladies & Gentlemen I welcome you,
Good Charlotte, playing their new album, "Cardiology." Forever
Young in our hearts. Keep on believing.
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
Can't sleep again.
Guilt in my head,
spinning, leaping,
autumn leaves,
bullfrogs and song lyrics.
Dice or bingo *****
which one comes up first?
Again, again,
remember to slow down,
and Olivar favorite parts.
When they were ours,
when we belonged.
log, sixty-six percent,
percentage of original,
original sin, seven sins, se7en,
Sin of Cortez,
tea, teaz me,
Olivar favorite parts.
Can't sleep again.
The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas.
Salem, O.
Greyhound, stick-on roses,
cigarette smoke,
choke in my lungs,
stink on my clothes,
desperation in skinny jeans
and step-dads tranquilizers,
the open window beckons,
sleeping beauty, Rapunzel.
Tangled web,
Charlotte with 8 legs,
and a Durok below,
hounds howl, bellow, yodel
at the moon above,
desperate for a life long gone,
adventures never known.
Indiana Jones, satchel and lasso.
Or was it a whip?
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
My Religion - Music is Life
Fall Out Boy-
Patrick-God
Andrew(Andy)-Jesus
Joseph(Joe)-Angel
Peter(Pete)-Angel
Good Charlotte-
Benjamin(Benji)-God's left hand
Joel-God's right hand
Paul-Angel
William(Billy)-Angel
Drummers; the 3 wise men
Deano- Past drummer: Chris, and Aaron
Avenged Sevenfold-
M. Shadows-Angel
Synyster Gates-Angel
Zacky Vengeance-Jesus' left hand
Johnny Christ-Jesus' right hand
The Rev (Angel)-Rev. Tholomew Plague or simply Rev. Jimmy
They only equal to what god, jesus, angels, etc would be or are..
Music is my religion.
Let Me Have My Music
and I'll be okay!
No One Can Take
My Music Away!
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 3:31 AM UTC
She's lean and lanky,
And she sinks her eyes into your flesh.
Her bones hypnotize you,
The thought of touching her off-white skin sends you into a whirl.
Her black hair sits like sin on her shoulders,
And the emptiness haunts you when she's not here.
Her cherry lips constantly taunt yours,
and when she smiles, it's like
hearing The Beatles for the first time.
Charlotte.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 5:08 PM UTC
Spirit horse
Horse of spirit
You are very
Beautiful to
Everyone you
See as your
Spirit shows
It glows bright
Shining through
Everything like
An ethereal glows
That surrounds
You in its warm
Embrace as you
Move in spirit
And move in
From your true
Beauty begins
To expand ever
Greater ever
Brighter for
All eternity
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC