"clinger" poems
Holly and Ivy
Walked in the woods
Discussing who was the best
Holly was hoping her rosey complexion
Would maybe outshine all the rest.
But Ivy thought Holly was surely forgetting
The shock of her prickly demeanour
She was convinced for sure
The king would adore
All that was so special about her.
Now Ivy was bit of a hugger
You might say a lot of a clinger
But she was convinced
Her warming embrace
Would win over the king no matter.
And when the time came
For the winter queen crowning
The king of the woods was clear
He chose as his queen the lady he fell for
And it's Holly who now wears his ring.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
I remember when she would always chase me....
Like the times she would never let me be....
I remember she was a problem an obstacle to fun.....
When she would ask me why she wasnt my number one....
Oh i didnt have time... Ill be right back....
Then she would call crying... What a baby a hack....
I told all my friends that she was a joke....
Another clinger only good for a poke.....
Then I got no call... To tears beating on phone....
I guess she got tired of being left all alone....
I only thought that she would always be there....
Even if she left what would i care...
Turns out I pushed her way too far....
Never told her that she was my bright shining star....
My sun.... My world..... The reason I breathe....
Now i get it... A pain I could never concieve...
Just like sand she slipped through my hand....
All she ever wanted was for me to understand...
That she was rare.. A diamond among Stones....
Now i guess its me the one left alone...
She gave me my shot... My one time chance....
At a love that compares to the greatest romance...
Then it was too late.... to her house i ran...
But she had the look meant for me... In the arms of another man...
Now I know im not dumb... Im actually very smart...
I can accept that this was never her fault....
Im to blame... I broke my Heart....
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Frosty blue eyes
Brighter than the sky
A smile so wide
It makes me feel all right
Freckles on her face
With my fingers id trace
Tatted up like a biker
Maybe thats why i liked her
Octopus on her shoulder
I just wish i could hold her
Also a mermaid, a little ugly she said
I thought it was beautiful it was all in her head
Wooden ship on the other
Mermaid daughter and mother
A light house and a beetle
Shes not afraid of the needle
Jellyfish on her thigh
Mistakes i wish i could rectify
Queen of Hearts on her ring finger
The whole time i was a class 5 clinger
Dont let your dreams be dreams
Tattooed on her chest
Thats why ill let her go
But i wish her the best
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
when you figured out i could drive
you took advantage of me real fast—
“i love you’s” and all that fake allegiance.
well, guess what—i will burn the town we found leave it in wreckage
i will be more than who i am around you;
spirit sucker
undercover.
i hate how you talk to people
all crass and aggressive.
selfish little clinger
i’ll leave these daggers in my flesh
that you placed there for me
after you got mad i didn’t give you everything.
Aug 26, 2023
Aug 26, 2023 at 9:21 PM UTC
a clinger of wear
the snow bed's snooze
will shampoo a cafeteria in Rome
that program starch as foliage
but to absorb fluids in Ascension
what matters are risen
will further witness these true gyrations
and flatulent is a year younger
and will kick up heavenliness
and flit courageously triumphs
and grease tears her grace
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC
all a teacher can do is learn and live,
see.
Situationical, long ago, tradition
Teachers tell stories,
with force. Whacks and such.
The reason, once, one time,
the ruler to the knucks
was to loosen a stuck clutch o'
clingers to the edge, who knew what
could be known,
who were
witnesses,taught to see
perceiving sub til ity plowing furrows
through explosions of new math,
new bombs, new moms,
new wars for no reasons, the edge
clinger fingers
let go, just before
a teacher who
they knew learned,
as he lived,
to hear whos
beyond the bubble's edge.
slip
yet no sense
{clique}
Filter Heinlein through Vonnegut,
squeeze the dregs,
sort each bubble by whos heard.
--Suess, a gain, point ought ever one,
heare that? That is an echo. A bubble pop echo,
in the halls of all imagined worlds
redeemed by children seeing the meaning
wave form on the GB scale storys are sung to.
Waiting is, on the BE scale
the ceiling leaks in the poet's prison,
but his window faces west,
so he is pleased to watch
the wind he claimed
bring rain. And so it goes.
How long do stories live these days?,
Asked the peacemaker, in the distance.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
i have lost all faculty
words do not say as much
as warmth could never be enough
in the cold weather
all i want is to see your face again
under the covers
all i want is to be surrounded
by your presence
and to feel as much
as i can hold
and we could be strangers again
so i could watch it all unfold
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 8:05 AM UTC