"dalmatians" poems - Hello Poetry

Always thinking what am I thinking? lets start writing should be sleeping why am I thinking? I need to sleep now bored of sheep, lets try cows maybe I should count the spots or connect the dots of my thoughts.... Dalmatians are the cow canine ten, eleven, twelve deeper I delve sleeper I'm not wide awake, no half baked dough money makes the world go round funny how it doesn't make a sound yet people are so loud it's not needed nod your head when greeted nod your head when agreeing or leaving, deceiving, grieving maybe thats bowing bow your head when grieving Robin Hood had merry men and they were thieving still need to be sleeping dreaming........ If only I could dream of you as we sail the ocean blue you would get sea sick and I would drown quick this is how my dreams end much like our relationship conscious thoughts maligned with nonsense fraughts I fraught of you today tonight, this night every night you my light my darkness my rainbow tied around your neck so delicate a pretty little thing no tongue ring yet butterflies toast lands sunny side glass half empty I'm half fool a joker in the pack Batman that's a fact I only come out at night your caped crusader I tried to save her but the current dragged her under she now resides in the depths of my mind a shipwreck my Mary Rose how I loved your eyes and nose and everything attached did I remember to put the door on the latch? turn off the oven come give me loving and affection Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading sing to me so I can sleep sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........

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May 4, 2015

May 4, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC

theuniVerse

My Mary Rose

Always thinking what am I thinking? lets start writing should be sleeping why am I thinking? I need to sleep now bored of sheep, lets try cows maybe I should count the spots or connect the dots of my thoughts.... Dalmatians are the cow canine ten, eleven, twelve deeper I delve sleeper I'm not wide awake, no half baked dough money makes the world go round funny how it doesn't make a sound yet people are so loud it's not needed nod your head when greeted nod your head when agreeing or leaving, deceiving, grieving maybe thats bowing bow your head when grieving Robin Hood had merry men and they were thieving still need to be sleeping dreaming........ If only I could dream of you as we sail the ocean blue you would get sea sick and I would drown quick this is how my dreams end much like our relationship conscious thoughts maligned with nonsense fraughts I fraught of you today tonight, this night every night you my light my darkness my rainbow tied around your neck so delicate a pretty little thing no tongue ring yet butterflies toast lands sunny side glass half empty I'm half fool a joker in the pack Batman that's a fact I only come out at night your caped crusader I tried to save her but the current dragged her under she now resides in the depths of my mind a shipwreck my Mary Rose how I loved your eyes and nose and everything attached did I remember to put the door on the latch? turn off the oven come give me loving and affection Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading sing to me so I can sleep sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........

69

The boy walking in front of me With a slight limp on his left leg A backwards astro hat And dark skin underneath darker clothes Smelled of coffee And the humid breeze lifted axe from his neck Backwards and up my nose He smelled of trouble Of seventh grade solitude And looked as if he walked out of my fifth grade memories Still I thought of you ***** and dark Dope across your tee shirt Freckles spotting your smile that press into your dimples Lifting the corners of my mouth I'd like to lick cologne from your neck Made of sweat and ****** solitude You made none of my memories Smelled and looked of nothing familiar Only past daydreams Maybe I'm just tired I was up all night thinking of Ma She has always smelled of Ck perfume No matter how much money we had She looks like all of my memories Her short boy haircut Her androgynous women's work suit I remember her younger Still loving women Made of muscle, teaching me how to run After soccer and before the gym At night She went out in slinky tank tops Made of sparkles or silk, and sometimes both Leaving, she'd kiss my forehead as she left me with father and my 101 Dalmatians sippy cup I'd hug around her neck And breathe in her Ck perfume

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Jul 18, 2013

Jul 18, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC

scottie-green

Axe, Sweat, and CK

The boy walking in front of me With a slight limp on his left leg A backwards astro hat And dark skin underneath darker clothes Smelled of coffee And the humid breeze lifted axe from his neck Backwards and up my nose He smelled of trouble Of seventh grade solitude And looked as if he walked out of my fifth grade memories Still I thought of you ***** and dark Dope across your tee shirt Freckles spotting your smile that press into your dimples Lifting the corners of my mouth I'd like to lick cologne from your neck Made of sweat and ****** solitude You made none of my memories Smelled and looked of nothing familiar Only past daydreams Maybe I'm just tired I was up all night thinking of Ma She has always smelled of Ck perfume No matter how much money we had She looks like all of my memories Her short boy haircut Her androgynous women's work suit I remember her younger Still loving women Made of muscle, teaching me how to run After soccer and before the gym At night She went out in slinky tank tops Made of sparkles or silk, and sometimes both Leaving, she'd kiss my forehead as she left me with father and my 101 Dalmatians sippy cup I'd hug around her neck And breathe in her Ck perfume

37

innocence the ticket’s too big to fit in my palm the bag’s too heavy to trail behind giants carried briefcases glued to their hands and mourners took flight to the end of the world my father’s gait was too fast to keep up to for the short length of my legs nina the yellow sheep bobbed happily along as did the pig tails attached to my head with bows despite the noise, the crowds, the lines excitement fueled the erratic behavior of the butterflies currently residing in my stomach behind the 101 dalmatians t-shirt that dressed me i never thought the airport would become a second home the planes that flew over head while i looked at the sky from my backyard would become not just a mode of transportation even if the thought appeared in my head the young naive girl that i once was would be pleased with the statement and rather excited as always she would board 1000 planes and still wouldn’t have minded experience the ticket is just an other piece of paper and the bags were tattered with experience the men with gray faces traveled with their gravestones and the loved ones were still at the end of the world my stranger’s gait was still too fast but this time his urgency didn’t appeal there was no stuffed animal to take away the dreams just the headphones that contained the remedy noisy crowds were just an other member of the family they didn’t mind that the butterflies were now dormant or dead or maybe they left when i had to throw away my 101 dalmatians t-shirt the 7 houses i previously occupied had all burned down the airport was the only one still standing it changed its face many times but held the same feeling an airplane is a calm palace in the sky sometimes i miss the girl that thought these houses were exciting sometimes i miss the sweet naivety of her father’s ways sometimes i miss the blank passport of the unknown but then again 1000 planes later i don’t mind

0

Dec 8, 2013

Dec 8, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC

julia-robertson

a i r p o r t s ;

innocence the ticket’s too big to fit in my palm the bag’s too heavy to trail behind giants carried briefcases glued to their hands and mourners took flight to the end of the world my father’s gait was too fast to keep up to for the short length of my legs nina the yellow sheep bobbed happily along as did the pig tails attached to my head with bows despite the noise, the crowds, the lines excitement fueled the erratic behavior of the butterflies currently residing in my stomach behind the 101 dalmatians t-shirt that dressed me i never thought the airport would become a second home the planes that flew over head while i looked at the sky from my backyard would become not just a mode of transportation even if the thought appeared in my head the young naive girl that i once was would be pleased with the statement and rather excited as always she would board 1000 planes and still wouldn’t have minded experience the ticket is just an other piece of paper and the bags were tattered with experience the men with gray faces traveled with their gravestones and the loved ones were still at the end of the world my stranger’s gait was still too fast but this time his urgency didn’t appeal there was no stuffed animal to take away the dreams just the headphones that contained the remedy noisy crowds were just an other member of the family they didn’t mind that the butterflies were now dormant or dead or maybe they left when i had to throw away my 101 dalmatians t-shirt the 7 houses i previously occupied had all burned down the airport was the only one still standing it changed its face many times but held the same feeling an airplane is a calm palace in the sky sometimes i miss the girl that thought these houses were exciting sometimes i miss the sweet naivety of her father’s ways sometimes i miss the blank passport of the unknown but then again 1000 planes later i don’t mind

42

Like her husband, Claire's wineglass left rings on the table. Her coarse hair stuck to her thin, oxblood lips. She found time to breathe in between sips and dry coughs brought on by her friend, John, smoking on the couch. He put his Pall Malls out on the armrest like Dalmatians. Her sister lay in a red wine carpet stain counting the pennies behind John's feet. Claire hid behind a fruit bowl; oranges with skin far tighter than hers. *Oranges her husband would've been glad to ****

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Jul 23, 2014

Jul 23, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC

christopher-cizek

Like Dalmatians

Like her husband, Claire's wineglass left rings on the table. Her coarse hair stuck to her thin, oxblood lips. She found time to breathe in between sips and dry coughs brought on by her friend, John, smoking on the couch. He put his Pall Malls out on the armrest like Dalmatians. Her sister lay in a red wine carpet stain counting the pennies behind John's feet. Claire hid behind a fruit bowl; oranges with skin far tighter than hers. *Oranges her husband would've been glad to ****

12

Hot kisses From cold eyes Dead hearts Within warm bodies, More bones than Dalmatians, And every single one Is broken, What if the cage Freed the bird And the trap Is the world outside? Life is easy It's the living that's hard, Too afraid to die Makes for a waste of time, The scars on your skin Like the static on the TV Should remind you There is always color Even in the dark, We're pieces of puzzles Our lips; our fingers interlocking And there are no corners... APAD13 - 127 © okpoet

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Jul 29, 2013

Jul 29, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC

nestor-david-armas

Static...

Hot kisses From cold eyes Dead hearts Within warm bodies, More bones than Dalmatians, And every single one Is broken, What if the cage Freed the bird And the trap Is the world outside? Life is easy It's the living that's hard, Too afraid to die Makes for a waste of time, The scars on your skin Like the static on the TV Should remind you There is always color Even in the dark, We're pieces of puzzles Our lips; our fingers interlocking And there are no corners... APAD13 - 127 © okpoet

25

born in southern california, i grew up in a small neighborhood with various sorts of people. the woman with the red door owned dalmatians, and her home was filled with glass decorations. riding my barbie car around the cul-de-sac, eating vanilla crisps with the other little girls, pretending to cut their hair in the attic. although, after those memories, it starts to get confusing and i can't remember much anymore. after i moved from there, we moved more often and i can't seem to remember which house has which memories. i do remember, beautiful roses growing in front of the house left by previous owners.

0

Oct 20, 2013

Oct 20, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC

macachist

rosamond roses

born in southern california, i grew up in a small neighborhood with various sorts of people. the woman with the red door owned dalmatians, and her home was filled with glass decorations. riding my barbie car around the cul-de-sac, eating vanilla crisps with the other little girls, pretending to cut their hair in the attic. although, after those memories, it starts to get confusing and i can't remember much anymore. after i moved from there, we moved more often and i can't seem to remember which house has which memories. i do remember, beautiful roses growing in front of the house left by previous owners.

18

Dappled, isn't it? Slotted bits of sun rays. A radiant dalmatians coat sprawled upon messy bedclothes. ***** sheets. Always ***** no matter. Yes, they've been changed. Thousands of times, they've been changed. That sparse sunlight shines. It highlights the grime and the sweat. I awaken to a stiff neck, and stretch out the cracks and the pops from my spine. My bones sigh as I flick a switch. The shower runs, coffee is brewing in the kitchen. I hum. I'll be humming for eternity, walking through grass and clods of mud. My worn boots go on, begging for a cobbler. I'll see the sky, the sun shares it with the daytime moon. I'll whisper to myself: It'll be time for bed soon. A couple hours. A few beers, or whiskeys. Waiting for that ever dependable dappled sunlight. It always comes. Until it doesn't.

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Nov 17, 2021

Nov 17, 2021 at 8:21 PM UTC

Listerineyedrops

Daze days

Dappled, isn't it? Slotted bits of sun rays. A radiant dalmatians coat sprawled upon messy bedclothes. ***** sheets. Always ***** no matter. Yes, they've been changed. Thousands of times, they've been changed. That sparse sunlight shines. It highlights the grime and the sweat. I awaken to a stiff neck, and stretch out the cracks and the pops from my spine. My bones sigh as I flick a switch. The shower runs, coffee is brewing in the kitchen. I hum. I'll be humming for eternity, walking through grass and clods of mud. My worn boots go on, begging for a cobbler. I'll see the sky, the sun shares it with the daytime moon. I'll whisper to myself: It'll be time for bed soon. A couple hours. A few beers, or whiskeys. Waiting for that ever dependable dappled sunlight. It always comes. Until it doesn't.

38

I guess our dream of owning a dalmatian doesn't matter anymore.

0

Aug 21, 2020

Aug 21, 2020 at 1:46 AM UTC

mitch-prax

Dreaming of Dalmatians

I guess our dream of owning a dalmatian doesn't matter anymore.

4

'“Why Exactly, Do Some Hate It So Much ?” A Poem written by Big Virge 16/3/2021 Now I Know That It’s TOUGH... And Is Really NOT FUN... !!! But..... Why Exactly... Do Some Hate It So Much... ?!? Facing Up To The TRUTH... And The Straight Talk That Proves... That Sometimes You Must Choose... To Simply Stay Cool... In The Face of ABUSE... And REJECT … Attitudes... Cos' When You Give It Out... You Have To … Take Some Too... !!! Lines That Cast Doubt... On The Words That You Use... That Do Not Hold Values... !!! Cos’ We All Have Our Moments... Where We Say What Is POTENT... !!! To People We Know... Who AREN’T Always FOES... Or... IGNORANT Folks... !!! Sometimes It Is People... You Place Upon Steeples... That Have To Hear Things... That Sometimes Do STING... !!! Cos’ We Just Can’t Agree... About EVERY Last Thing... !!! We ALL NEED To LEARN... To Take Turns Being Hurt... By Words Well Observed... And Some That Are NOT... !!! Some Peoples Words SHOCK... And Really Do Knock... The Spots Off of Dogs... Like Dalmatians Have Got... !!! Sometimes They Are Wrong... And Just Do Not Belong... In Our Conversations... Because Some Are BLATANT... Forms of... DISRESPECT... !!! But It’s Good To COLLECT... Your Thoughts Before Threats... Or Ignorance Lends... Itself To The End... of Speaking To Friends... Because You’re UPSET... Or Are Dealing With STRESS... !!! But Sadly Some People... Resort To What’s Feeble... But... Why Exactly... Do They Hate It So Much... ?!? When THEY Are The Ones... ALWAYS Running Their Gums... When They Have To Hear... Some Speech That Makes CLEAR... !!! What Someone Else Thinks... About Thoughts That They Bring... Within... THEIR Lyrics... As If They Will Sink... Like... Titanic Ships... !!! Because of Put Downs... That Come Out of THEIR Mouths... !!! And Now It’s Online... That People Drop Lines... That Really AREN’T Nice... !?! Cos’ They Seem To Forget... The Things That They’ve Said... That Have Upset Their Friends... Or People... They Don’t Know... With All Their … Online Quotes... FOOLISH Keyboard Gangsters... Who Like To **** Hammers... Well Really... KEYBOARDS... With Their Ignorant Thoughts... !?! Could They Be Insecure... And Just Feeling … SORE... ?!? Because of Comments... That They Think Give Them Strength... When The Comments They Bring... Prove That They’re WEAKEST Links... !!! Cos’ There’s Too Much Pretence... Now On … Internet Threads... !!! People Need To STEP BACK... !!! INSEAD of... Just REACT... Like A Child In A Pram... !?! Come On What’s Up With That... !?! Which Brings Me Right Back... To This Question I Have... About Chats That Go BAD... When TENSIONS RISE UP... !!! Over Talk That Can Run... Where Opinions... DIFFER... “ Why Exactly Do Some Hate It So Much ? “

0

Sep 22, 2021

Sep 22, 2021 at 9:28 PM UTC

big-virge

'Why Exactly, Do Some Hate It So Much ?” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 16/3/2021

'“Why Exactly, Do Some Hate It So Much ?” A Poem written by Big Virge 16/3/2021 Now I Know That It’s TOUGH... And Is Really NOT FUN... !!! But..... Why Exactly... Do Some Hate It So Much... ?!? Facing Up To The TRUTH... And The Straight Talk That Proves... That Sometimes You Must Choose... To Simply Stay Cool... In The Face of ABUSE... And REJECT … Attitudes... Cos' When You Give It Out... You Have To … Take Some Too... !!! Lines That Cast Doubt... On The Words That You Use... That Do Not Hold Values... !!! Cos’ We All Have Our Moments... Where We Say What Is POTENT... !!! To People We Know... Who AREN’T Always FOES... Or... IGNORANT Folks... !!! Sometimes It Is People... You Place Upon Steeples... That Have To Hear Things... That Sometimes Do STING... !!! Cos’ We Just Can’t Agree... About EVERY Last Thing... !!! We ALL NEED To LEARN... To Take Turns Being Hurt... By Words Well Observed... And Some That Are NOT... !!! Some Peoples Words SHOCK... And Really Do Knock... The Spots Off of Dogs... Like Dalmatians Have Got... !!! Sometimes They Are Wrong... And Just Do Not Belong... In Our Conversations... Because Some Are BLATANT... Forms of... DISRESPECT... !!! But It’s Good To COLLECT... Your Thoughts Before Threats... Or Ignorance Lends... Itself To The End... of Speaking To Friends... Because You’re UPSET... Or Are Dealing With STRESS... !!! But Sadly Some People... Resort To What’s Feeble... But... Why Exactly... Do They Hate It So Much... ?!? When THEY Are The Ones... ALWAYS Running Their Gums... When They Have To Hear... Some Speech That Makes CLEAR... !!! What Someone Else Thinks... About Thoughts That They Bring... Within... THEIR Lyrics... As If They Will Sink... Like... Titanic Ships... !!! Because of Put Downs... That Come Out of THEIR Mouths... !!! And Now It’s Online... That People Drop Lines... That Really AREN’T Nice... !?! Cos’ They Seem To Forget... The Things That They’ve Said... That Have Upset Their Friends... Or People... They Don’t Know... With All Their … Online Quotes... FOOLISH Keyboard Gangsters... Who Like To **** Hammers... Well Really... KEYBOARDS... With Their Ignorant Thoughts... !?! Could They Be Insecure... And Just Feeling … SORE... ?!? Because of Comments... That They Think Give Them Strength... When The Comments They Bring... Prove That They’re WEAKEST Links... !!! Cos’ There’s Too Much Pretence... Now On … Internet Threads... !!! People Need To STEP BACK... !!! INSEAD of... Just REACT... Like A Child In A Pram... !?! Come On What’s Up With That... !?! Which Brings Me Right Back... To This Question I Have... About Chats That Go BAD... When TENSIONS RISE UP... !!! Over Talk That Can Run... Where Opinions... DIFFER... “ Why Exactly Do Some Hate It So Much ? “

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