"dinners" poems
Is that what we wake up to every day?
Fast food and gas stations are forever stamped in the corners of my eyes as they are looking through the glass of minimum wage to the red flashing lights of a man hoping to get back to his children safely.
Is life is a pointed dagger then my blade is rusted and dull when I wonder why I even try some days.
Do I dare defend my pride and still demand something more than this? Is this a call for engines in the air or wings made of wax? Death would be more alive than waking up to another day of shampoo commercials and microwave dinners.
You are always whispering in my ear though dear and telling me that you're more than just a particle flown into my imagination from a world so oh very different than ours.
Are your eyes as bright as I imagine? Will the glare from them blind me from the tax collectors whip and will your laughter drown out the screams of onlookers who are throwing peanuts through the bars at my feet?
Will your kiss melt me and cause me to fall into wind like leaves in a storm, a tornado of color and beauty..?
I lay in bed and my eyes close tightly, my breathing slows and thoughts drip into pits men drown themselves in, the murky waters of nihilistic cynicism...
Though my hand will still not be closed around yours when the sun rises, the whisper lets me know you are still awake and searching for me too...
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
Cuddle in my arms, you are.
We just enjoying quiet time together.
Relaxing on the couch in the dark with a single candle burning.
Just reflecting back on our relationship.
Like when we first met.
It's been a worthy experience.
One I wouldn't trade for anything.
I remember our first kiss.
It's simply hard to forget.
It was sincere.
It was passionate.
Just like the one I've just given you.
I remember our walks in the park.
Those self made dinners we had.
Those was good times.
Just like those we are creating now.
As we are just cuddling in the dark.
Reflecting back.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
Polite
Typical
Smiley
Daughter
Pointlessly
Trusting
School
District
Professor
Turns-blind-eye
Struggling
Drastically
Packets
Turn-to
Stacks
Deficient
Panic Attacks
Turn-to
Self
Destruction
Pulling
Teeth
Sick
Design
Plans
To
Stop
Discussing
Peace
To-her
Silence
Disturbs
People
Talked
She
Distracted
Passed
The
Snacks-to
Dinners
Pulled
The
Same
Dimensions
Pre-K
Then
Smaller
Didn't
Pause
Third-Grade
So
Dead
Parents
Though
She
Drowned
Piled
Thoughts
Suffocated-her
Dexterity
Patient
There
Suffering
Depression
Problems
To-many-to
Score
Dispute
Progress
That
Shockingly
Developed
Potentially
Taken-away-the
Suffering
Dramatically
Poor
Tiny
Sweet
Doll
Part
Traumatized
Sleep
Deprived
Phobic
though
Sixth grade
Doesn't
Play
Though
Six-Years-of
Death
Until... The little girl, learned she had,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.
We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.
We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.
We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.
We are not products of God.
We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Cuddle in my arms, you are.
We just enjoying quiet time together.
Relaxing on the couch in the dark with a single candle burning.
Just reflecting back on our relationship.
Like when we first met.
It's been a worthy experience.
One I wouldn't trade for anything.
I remember our first kiss.
It's simply hard to forget.
It was sincere.
It was passionate.
Just like the one I've just given you.
I remember our walks in the park.
Those self made dinners we had.
Those was good times.
Just like those we are creating now.
As we are just cuddling in the dark.
Reflecting back.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
Brandon,
To see you grow up and turn into the man you are is a gift... A young man, smart, kind, thoughtful to others. I have no criticisms to offer you in regards to the path and choices you have taken and made. I feel swelling pride for you as I write this and cannot wait to see and hear the adventures you will embark on in your life.
Having you as my cousin touches me and reminds me that I have an impact on the world, and for as long as you have looked up to me as your older cousin, I will always feel a sense of responsibility and caring for you, invigorating in purpose, which helps craft the home in my heart. Seeing time pass as sand in an hour glass, I can only glance in retrospect and see the years and times as a family you have shared with us; if it were a scoreboard, a test, the sum of all of your actions: a resounding win or success story on all counts. You are a gift to those around you and your happiness and caring will change this world for the better as it already has changed mine. Thank you for being my cousin, but more so for being the person you always are. You are a blessing and a light. Don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise or believe differently...
To end my letter to you, I will leave you with this: I can't wait to grow old and share more time with you; to go fishing, to go camping, to carry on our family's traditions and dinners which are so special among families, to share this chance to be alive and breathing, and to share our hearts with others. Go forth Brandon. Go forth and share your love with the world. Light your torch and burn it. I love you Brandon.
Your Cousin,
-Kevin
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
---
I've done some research
On cancer's cause
Western medicine, Dr Oz.
They don't have answers, I'm afraid.
And the cure is in what GOD made.
Cancer's vector? A simple virus.
A parasite and a fungus.
Candida overgrowth.
Radiation. Stress.
We all face this in the West.
So are there answers? Well. Let's see.
Tell me if you don't agree.
Sodas should go down the drain
They have sugar or aspertame.
Sugar feeds cancer. Cut it out!
I KNOW that this will make you pout
But you can find nuts a tasty treat
Find some that you like to eat!
Say NO to coffee. All caffeine.
Eat kale and other leafy greens.
If you want nutrition saved
Cut the cord on your microwave!
They watered plants
with water nuked
They died. Nutrition down the tubes.
So no TV dinners. Processed foods.
No fruits or veggies grown GMOs.
WHEAT is bad! And on it goes.
So it may cost a little more?
Shop your local health food store!
What does it matter?
What's cancer's cost?
And your life will not be lost!
If you tire of reading this
There may be important
things you miss... READ ON!
NATURAL REMEDIES FOR CANCER
Blackstrap molasses. 1 tablespoon
Baking soda. 1 teaspoon
Mix with a glass of water and drink.
(Baking soda should be found at
a health food store)
Blackstrap molasses can also be used
topically for skin cancer.
Tincture of the husk of the
Black walnut nut. 2 drops
Tincture of clove. 2 drops
Tincture of wormwood. 2 drops
Mix in a glass of water and drink. Add lemon and honey.
It'll taste better.
IMPORTANT!
DO NOT USE TAP
OR BOTTLED WATER!
Get distilled water and add
Minerals in liquid form.
Your health food store will have this.
There are many herbs and spices
Which help.
There's iodine in common kelp.
Turmeric
Cucumin
etc.
VERY POWERFUL
Soursop tea. Green tea sans caffeine
Fresh vegetables of the rainbow...
Colors are viamins!
Vitamin supplements
Especially B-17
If you can't find these in your
Health food store ask them to order.
Or go on Amazon and order.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
First off, a declaration; I love you!
There’s surely no mistake.
And if you’ll be my lover, a promise;
Our lives will be filled with tea and cake.
There is nothing I wouldn't give you.
Just take it! My heart, my mind, my soul.
My money, I’ll give it. Take the credit card too!
Your happiness is my only true goal.
But more than that; I’ll give you laughter.
We will be laughing all the time.
And when I make you fantastic dinners,
Our laughs will mix with wine.
Oh, I know I can make you happy!
Let me love you, for goodness sake!
And if you’ll be my lover, my dear,
Our lives will be filled with tea and cake.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
For the first time in ten years
Both my parents were near
Seated at a table together
Not next to each other
With my brother in the middle
They sat as their food sizzled
We will always be a family
Though my mother has remarried
I really need for times like this
Family dinners are bliss
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Overwhelming mental congestion for perfection,
Socially influenced blueprints of future attraction.
Constructive criticism given by construction workers,
The labor of family and friends for reassurance.
A solid foundation of first impressions,
Structured walls of growth and development.
Insulation of natural feelings and experiences,
Ventilation to cool down the heated encounters.
Electrical wiring of an emotional and physical connection,
A circuitry of passion and romance with a light switch.
Hardwood flooring for candle lit dinners and ballroom dancing,
Granite kitchen counters for intimate midnight snacks.
An attractive exterior siding to woo the public eye,
A secure lock of commitment on all the doors.
A roof of trust, and a picket fence,
And now, my love,
I’m simply yours.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Eyes meet with exchanged smiles from across a room
Laughter at the same jokes and nightime walks; who knows what may loom?
The meeting we both attend is a mutually interesting theme
Someone who likes it AND is realistic? This cannot be what it seems.
Once weekly at college we hold each other’s gaze
Meeting for awful campus dinners to vent about our days
From my hometown, although years separate our leaving
This is too good to be true, of course I must be dreaming
I keep talking myself down; she already dates someone good
Although that doesn’t stop me as much as it should
But just as I’m willing to put up with that fight
She tells me she rejected someone the previous night
While thankful for my silence and no resulting pain
I can’t help but wonder why this has happened again
Why do people seek in me their emotions to confide
Without at all thinking I may want to be by their side?
Years go by and we remain friends, though truly only in name
Her interest in that topic has deepened; and things just can’t be the same
Contact dwindles down to a yearly fundraising letter
Finally I toss it aside, I deserve better.
A recent interview in the paper brings her to mind once more
Only this time I feel nothing down deep in my core
With her eyes “opened” and trust from Above
I see that she has now found a groom to love
I’m happy for them and their worthwhile cause
Hopefully they will help others put life’s challenges on pause
But when all is set and done at the end of the day
I have the people I want around me every step of the way.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Purple, blue, pink, and green,
Waves of color fill the room.
Crisp cold air, We hide
beneath the walls of blankets.
Words spoken twice,
Spastic moments.
Hilarious pictures pinned to boards,
giggles shatter late night silence.
Tanks with treasure spilling over,
Fish swimming back and forth.
Cereal, and sometimes milk,
Wait to be eaten.
Movie nights, and roommate dinners,
Granola hostages, and hidden peanut butter.
All these things define who we are,
Roommates.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 8:30 PM UTC
1. He was the only boy to care for me more than I could ever care about him. He came into my life when I needed a shoulder to cry on the most. He believed I deserved more than I was ever given. He fell for me but I could never love him back.
2. He was the first guy to break my heart. He had a way with words and he was dangerous with them. The words from his lips came out in the most beautiful of ways with the deceiving smile to make you lose your breath. But his lips could never just land on me. After all, him and I were never a we.
3. He is the one I want but the one impossible to attain. His heart is shielded by a million brick walls and to break them down is the impossible. He makes me feel countless explainable feelings for him but he runs from any sense of affection. He's not simple and he is deep and it makes him better than any other.
4. He was my distraction. He is around to take me out when I need him. He knows how to make me feel a little better and gives good laughs. He developed feelings along the way of our countless dinners and nights spent talking about life. But I would never be his.
5. He was the one I loved. I believed he was the best thing in the world for the while we were a thing. I was only 15 and he was 18. I was too dumb to realize that an 18 year would ever want a girl my age for anything more than his brain could think of.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
I'm glad I got the chance to know you
You were always there for us
In the good times and bad times
You always knew just what to say and do.
Comforting us whenever we needed you,
we could talk about anything.
No matter how good or how bad things were,
I knew we could count on you
When we got married you were there
when I wrote my book, you were proud of me.
When I got sick or if I got hurt,
you were there and made me feel better.
You always had a great sense of humor,
even when you were at your worst.
I'll always cherish the great times we had,
at the farm and at holiday time.
I'll remember all the homemade dinners,
that you cooked for us
Whenever we were there, on the farm,
and the good and bad things you shared with us.
Thank you for letting me in,
and thank you for being you.
No matter how anyone looks at it,
You will always be my second mom.
Thank you for all of your love and support,
you were the best second mom I could ever have.
I love you with all my heart,
and I will always miss you!!!
Denise Seymour
March 26th, 2015
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
I hold the feather’s weight of your artery in my pick-ups,
and tiptoe the tightrope about which life and death abuts.
You’re a 2 AM trauma and we still don’t know your name,
the social worker’s thin lips had mouthed: “estranged.”
I read your anatomy like a text as you flat-line:
your hands turn blue as your heart falls still in mine.
The monitor hums "out of time," but by Epinephrine,
and Grace, your chest resumes its rise.
I leave trauma bay in prayer: for the surviving, not the knife;
for the closeness of my hands in your chest, our joining in this life.
Tonight I see you at the Kroger, buying TV dinners and beer.
I hide behind cereal, admiring the life I’d held dear.
But you look so tired, and my heart breaks for how when you died,
I would’ve sold the shoes off my feet to buy you more time.
I wish you knew how precious was each of your heartbeats,
I wish you the wisdom of my view:
How fragile the stent is where your veins meet.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
Just the thought of them makes your jawbone ache:
those turkey dinners, those holidays with
the air around the woodstove baked to a stupor,
and Aunt Lil's tablecloth stained by her girlhood's gravy.
A doggy wordless wisdom whimpers from
your uncles' collected eyes; their very jokes
creak with genetic sorrow, a strain
of common heritage that hurts the gut.
Sheer boredom and fascination! A spidering
of chromosomes webs even the infants in
and holds us fast around the spread
of rotting food, of too-sweet pie.
The cousins buzz, the nephews crawl;
to love one's self is to love them all.
9.7k
extra long vintage convertible car.
notice my big shoe size,
do I know what that really means?
extra little lies on top of giant whoppers.
the number of figures on their W-2,
and my measurements and cup-size, please.
please treasure
their perspicacious needs.
what’s with the obsession with size?
won’t sleep with them on the first date,
they are shocked, just shocked,
when informed on the dotted line
that a hundred dinners won’t turn me into their
personal come-when-called *****
at nineteen, by now,
I should know better,
do as I’m told
what’s this obsession with hurry up, immediate satisfaction?
and patting my head like i’m their favorite pet,
mansplaining me how the world works,
cause at nineteen I don’t know ****
just listen to the know-not-a-damn thing
arrogance of knowing it all impress themselves
what’s this need to be superior but a huge (size) coverup?
yeah yeah, get me a better class of men,
like my literate professors who will improve my grade
for use of the insights of my mouth on their poetic gestures.
I can wait, till I find a right sized human being,
in every which way,
especially
if he shows me the true love poems writ
for other girls,
then I may even trust him,
sooner
than never
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
i hope you get into medical school
so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday
i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks
but never the self control stop eating them
i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings
i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers
i hope your children are loved and cared for
but have their hearts broken by mine
i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party
i hope you always wake well rested
3 hours late for work
i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain
and catch metaphoric pneumonia
i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport
i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning
i hope all your book pages stick together
i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on
i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water
i hope you always find the words to say
but never the right time to say them
i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado
i hope all your dinners are directly impacted
by the fickle nature of a toaster oven
i hope your curiosity gets the better of you
and you find out what cat food tastes like
i hope your favorite band breaks up
and you miss their kick *** reunion tour
i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv
i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed
because nothing would make my ghost happier to know
that you were forced to find out after literally everyone else that
i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me
while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you
read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
To the man who made me who I am
Being with you was like learning without a textbook
I just watched and copied and made it my own
From gardening to maths
You made me my own genius
I didn't have to speak for you to know what was wrong
You didn't judge me for the silly things I said
Or how I never learnt at school
You taught me to teach my self
You were my Mr Miyagi
With less riddles more jokes
I learnt that laughter can flood rooms like tidal waves
And we were leaves to float in it
And now you're gone I wont mourn
You would tell me to stop crying and cut my hair
I will use laughter to put a smile on raggedy dolls
And the stories to keep the dark days down
Thank you for being the Godfather of giggles
Making Sunday dinners not the day to fear Mondays
Having gardening not be a chore but a way to think
Rest well Granddad.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
I see how white light startles.
I snapped a pic and she spun in circles.
She wanted a photograph
to cover her mother's epitaph,
so she could have a laugh.
She smoked to get away -
but this isn't what'd she say,
exhaling, "All we are is carbon
and a lack of empathy."
We blended into hues of
microwave dinners
and church alters.
I used to tell her to go
just to halt her.
We prayed to get away -
but that's not what we'd say,
whispering, "Help us be more
than carbon and a lack of empathy."
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
Just know...
He’s had lives & loves before you
Remember that when the bricklayer or the mechanic
Asks for your hand
You’ll receive one flower
Instead of a dozen roses
Picked on his way home
Handwritten notes in your shoes
Instead of Hallmark greetings
Elaborate dinners cooked by him
Where he said he’d clean
Afterwards
But didn’t
Spur of the moment
Road trips
Instead of planned vacations
The opening of windows
For the springtime thunderstorms
Listening to the beat of his heart
While the rain drops
Drip
Drip
I
N
T
O
The drain
He’ll write you with jazz playing
Wine in his bottle
Records in his head
Absorbing you into his world
And if he dies before you
And you bury him
And you mourn over him
Lasting for years
Remember his flower
His notes written just for you
And if you see his ghost
Haunting you
Then the Poet
Has fallen forever for
...You...
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
He was Daniel Kingery to the police.
Daniel Overstreet to his friends.
He was Dollar Dan on the streets.
He was Daniel,
he was wet rough kisses and anger and lust to me.
He found me one day,
18 years to his 37,
he found me when i was still a question mark trying to bleed red.
From behind a lens pointed at my naked flesh
he became a man of mystery,
he became the object of my desires.
I was a young, naive girl who got caught up in
how his pockets were always full- he flaunted it.
The flowers and the exotic dinners and the alcohol and the touch...
oh god, the way we fell into bed,
onto chairs,
into walls.
Then i fell in love on a broken sidewalk.
I was blind to the empty shadows in his eyes,
to the lines he had recited,
to the webs on his face.
I made a god out of a sociopath and i called him "love".
I was his ****** his baby blue.
I became wild under his touch,
manic when he gave me his attention,
suicidal at his leaving.
I was a flower that once was his favorite,
but he left me on the windowsill at a slow, burning wilt
and forgot to water me most days.
Why water a flower when you could have a garden?
Have you ever hated what you loved
until even their existence ate at you?
I have.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
It's funny what you do to me, and I know funny.
I go up on stage and tell ****** jokes for a living,
and look super bad *** while doing it.
But now you've got my *** terrified. Paranoid to breathe because I'm afraid it will be my last
and you won't be there to see it.
Yes, it's cliche. But you do have me listening to love songs, you do have me putting on make up,
you do have me running up mountains so I can have a body you can enjoy while we make-
out in your car to Beyonce songs.
You once told me that I "was the more beautiful person to grace this Earth" but Lover, I see your
grace in everything on this Earth.
And snow makes me smile because you like to ski and I'm from Canada so my face hurts
frequently.
Trench mapped hands, a sign of how many battles you've fought and won, how many battles
you've fought and lost, how many times you've picked yourself up off the dirt, smiled at me
and said "I'm fine, are you okay?"
Honestly, I have no idea how the most flawed person in the world, a girl who leaves her wet
towels everywhere, a girl who puts her keys in the same place but manages to forget where
they are, a girl who plays Assassin's Creed for 3 hours without blinking and wears that like a
proud Metal Of Honor, how can that girl make the most perfect person in the work happy?
Answer? I have no clue, but you don't have to cheat on any test, because I'll stay. As long as you
want me to, I'll stay.
Here for you when you get weepy, or angry, or curious to see what we can do behind closed doors.
I won't say "I love you". Not because it's not true. Nothing could be more true. But if I say it, I'll cry,
You'll kiss me, and I can't guarantee what will happen to our clothes after that.
So instead, I'll keep making the "that's what she said" jokes, until you're reminded of snow, or
maps, or breathing.
And I have fallen so hard for you that stone boarders between countries couldn't stop your
gravitational pull.
And like willow tree roots growing into shorelines, I get wetter every time you hold me.
So, I'll send you Steven King length facebook messages everyday.
I'll ring up my phone bill to $500.
Light candles for 3 hour skype dinners.
Because, long distance relationships are hard, but not being able to call you "mine" is excruciating.
Because, it's funny what you do to me.
Because, I love funny.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
I think about the face of a woman
and her smooth skin
soft lips
the curvature of the Earth is kin to her hips
I feel humanity suffering needlessly
beneath her cells
as I wander her valleys and sand-dune hills
she is the beach
the ocean
the calling of many gulls screaming for food and
I love her white *******
But she is sneaky
and cares for me
caressing is painful
I see it in my own eyes the next day
when the smudgy bruises flit across my reflection
But men understand
without either of us speaking a **** word
we drive
we shout
we catcall
we game
the music takes us and we run for days
doing nothing
anything
and i guess sometimes we ****
Succinct and supernatural
Brawn or brown skin or bright ideas gone awry
always a good day with the gang or the bros
I feel safer in the hoods
I want her to notice me, and to shyly skip over like she did last week
i want to kiss her neck and pull back
soon enough to catch her half-lidded gaze into the abyss behind me
I want to wear boxers and treat her to fancy dinners
But
I want to be her
I want taste a mustache
I want to be lifted overhead like a little sister
and brought back to the earth with sweet
exploration
Impossibility
I want women and men to be the same thing
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC