Ashley Somebody May 2014
Sprinkled in your hair,
Every screen saver you had,
Planted in your yard,
'Till he gave them a bad name;
Then all of your flowers died.
SG Holter May 2014
I was such a beautiful child,
With my shoulder lengths of
Sun bleached barley.

Smiled little pearl soldiers in
Line. Old glassesless ladies
Took me for

But I grew twisted like an
Appletree around a
Graveyard path

Teeth came out crooked.
Hair fell out at thirteen.
I was big for my age;
Grew other hair in places
I never knew I would.

My voice broke as if in
Sorrow over the child
Inside that had
Died. After that I spoke as if
Into a bucket.

Sometimes I catch my father
Gazing at me through a slight veil
Of grievance for that same

I would never dream
To blame him.
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.
loveless Jan 2016
True love is not of
Romeo and Juliet
That died together

True love is of
An old couple
That always lived together
True love. We would grow old together :-D

This poem became daily and i just want to dedicate this poem to elsa angelica for being my muse and inspiring me to write always

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—
T Stevens Dec 2013
Poem thief can have my poems if it means you continue to share pieces of you.
Joined this site to get to know you and will not stay here if you go away.
Not into twitter or myspace but will join to be near you and hope you don't mind.
I pray you allow me to be part of your crowd on your private Facebook.
You inspired me to write poetry and to get better at what's difficult for me.
I don't smoke cigarettes to calm my nerves or drink booze to numb a man's pain.
Admitting I'm a grown ass man reading your leaving comments and about to cry.
You affect more lives than you realize Betty Ponder and I glad you shared about you.
The one who steals poems can steal this one too it will mean more will know my feelings.
Glad that I got to read the pieces of you that you cared to share.
I posed a how do you know question to my parents about knowing if it's love.
Answer was when a person leaves your life and it makes you feel like
you can't breath and you get extremely sad when they leave and you want to
swallow your pride and get down on your hands and knees and beg them not to go.
I'm sad thinking you are leaving and I wont get to read pieces of you but still
got butterflies in my stomach thinking of you and want to beg you not to go.
I kid you not. You are the best of the best of all poets on this site and it's a damned shame
you removed a lot of your fantastic poems they were the best of the best on this site.
A good man died today
Buildings did not close
Flags were not flown at
half mast
School children  
attended classes
and life went on
as it did yesterday
and will again

But he was my friend
and people should know

A good man died today
Ryan Unger Jun 2015
Timmy the clown was clownin around, then he fell on his head and he died.
Tommy the troll was trollin on by, when he saw poor Timmy and cried.
Tommy picked up Timmy, looked to the sky, and shouted out loud “God, why!?”
“Because clowns are the creepiest things in the world,” God immediately replied.
And Tommy couldn’t argue with that.
I cried
Until the night died
And morning came to rise*

© Melissa Carlson 2015
Baby, if you died tomorrow
I'd get our favorite line
from our favorite song
printed on my back, in your hand

The song you and I danced to
The one where the voice
doesn't match the man,

“It was in love I was created,
and in love is how I hope I die.”

It'd make me cry, everyday
because you did die
But I know you're so selfless
You'd only wish better for me

Now you, the one with the big hair and tiny body
The one who became my first high school friend.
For someone so blunt and honest
I'd never imagine you'd be so sweet.

So if you dies tomorrow
I'd put the twin strawberries
on the inside of my wrist
The ones you sketched on my birthday card

You wrote the two paged, double sided letter tucked inside
I still read it when I feel sad.
It reminds me how incredibly loved I am
and how just plain incredible you are.

You, with the short hair and round glasses
the one with a small voice and big, contagious laughter.
Your performances make my week
And you've made such a big bang in my life
In ways you can never see.

You are a firecracker
And though you may be blind to your own light
That is what I see in you.

You'd be a firework
Exploding on the back of my neck
It'd be more than every color in the rainbow
Because I can't associate just one with you

It's be messy and wouldn't go with any of my clothes
It's be hidden when my short hair grew shaggy
But it'd be undoubtedly you.

You, with the new golden hair
but the always golden insides
I think you, and I think perfect
I think smiles and sunshine and songs

I think all that is good.
So to think you ever want,
ever need, ever hurt
Seems impossible.

You hardly ever let that side show
but when you do
Well, even those moments are beautiful.

I don't know what I'd get for you
Maybe the first poem you wrote for me
The one with flowers draw in the background
- I'm still amazed, to this day, you knew I liked calla lilies

Maybe I'd get the last poem you wrote me
Both put a smile on my face
and I think both apply to you too.

You, when I think of you, I think cool moves at N-trip
I think always knowing what to say
I think beautiful straight hair, bright blue eyes
and completely making my day.

I think of beat box rapping
And your bubbly presence
For you, there is no word picture or phrase
That can sum you up better than your name

I've never seen it spelled that way
And it shows just how amazingly unique you are.

You; when I think of the tattoo I'd get for you
I think of the paper crane you gave me for my birthday,
Now, I know it was last minute
but I'm glad you didn't buy anything.

Paper, to me, is just a blank canvas
I can't wait to write on.
But when you fold it up the way you do,
It reminds me how complicated things are
- Things like you.

Like that crane,
I haven't gotten the opportunity to bend back those folds
Get to know those creases and cracks
But now I'm going to take the chance
That I may never see that bird in the same light again.

Now brother, I don't want to go into detail about your death
Life without our bicker and banter is one I don't want to imagine.

And if you died, I'd always regret not telling you
I love you in ways you cannot fathom.
I don't want to think of you dying,
let alone the tattoo I'd get for you...
Here it goes;

I've thought of things that remind me of you
Baseball bats you drop on your iPod
Hockey sticks who's height you've finally caught up to
But none of those things show you

I think of you and your crazy curly hair
Your goofy ghetto caps
Your thin toothpick frame
and your fast-paced gangster rap

But you can't sum those things up
In song lyrics and pictures.
So as selfish as this sounds,
I'd want you to get the tattoo

I'd want you to be the one with a book on your back
or a pen on your wrist,
I'd want you to be out there and living each day to the fullest
Live each day that I'd miss.

But if you did die tomorrow,
I'd have to drag myself to that parlor
Pick a photo or phrase
Made to represent you

And you have to understand, this isn't something I'd normally do
Tattoos are permanent; unforgettable.
The ink fades and they get ugly as you age
They probably hurt like hell to get and only worse to remove.

But if you died tomorrow.
any of you,
I'd get those tattoos.
Little ones they run, forever young,
Avoiding the pain while strung
Upon their good times with glib tongues.

Confide, Relied, And Died.
Slip, Slide, Rip, Glide.

Never could they see my bleeding soul
That dripped the color charcoal,
Yet for me, there was no extol.

The light shone through those eyes
And what it does to me defies
All life has shown me it implies.

Confide, Relied, And Died.
Slip, Slide, Rip, Glide.

I fight the demon with these words
To ensure the avoidance of hazards
Of the knife, in hope of being lovebirds.

Sighed, Relied, And Guided.
Pried, Tried, Beside Her, I Flied.
Jack Jenkins May 2016
Why does my heart keep beating?                                    
**                                          It died long ago...
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