"dizziest" poems
Oh, ponder, friend, the porcupine;
Refresh your recollection,
And sit a moment, to define
His means of self-protection.
How truly fortified is he!
Where is the beast his double
In forethought of emergency
And readiness for trouble?
Recall his figure, and his shade--
How deftly planned and clearly
For slithering through the dappled glade
Unseen, or pretty nearly.
Yet should an alien eye discern
His presence in the woodland,
How little has he left to learn
Of self-defense! My good land!
For he can run, as swift as sound,
To where his goose may hang high--
Or ****** his head against the ground
And tunnel half to Shanghai;
Or he can climb the dizziest bough--
Unhesitant, mechanic--
And, resting, dash from off his brow
The bitter beads of panic;
Or should pursuers press him hot,
One scarcely needs to mention
His quick and cruel barbs, that got
Shakespearean attention;
Or driven to his final ditch,
To his extremest thicket,
He'll fight with claws and molars (which
Is not considered cricket).
How amply armored, he, to fend
The fear of chase that haunts him!
How well prepared our little friend!--
And who the devil wants him?
2.8k
It's getting late but it never bothered anyone,
Or me, or you.
You're my dizziest day dream so don't hesitate to yawn.
I've been waiting so long so just before you leave just tell me I deserved it.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
Sometimes i'd let the wind catch my hair
and reach out a hand to
touch the street lamps as they
flashed past
and sometimes i'd lean back against the leather
seat in silence
but it was always the same smile
that you gave me as we got out
Sometimes we'd lie and let the small
countless grains fall through
out fingers and try not to
think that it was the minutes
that we had left
and sometimes we'd dive beneath
the waves and get lost
in the foam and resurface
with flowers in our hair
but it was always the same light
that shone in your eyes
either way
Sometimes we'd wake up covered in the
soft blankets and the yellow light
seeping through the breeze and
the gaps in our intwined fingers
and sometimes we'd wake on the polished floor
surrounded by faceless bodies,
crushed bottles and flashing lights,
and it would be the streamers
the got lost in my hair, not your fingers,
but it was always the same words
you said to me as you
opened bleary eyes
And sometimes i think you never change because
this is all you ever wanted in all your
dizziest daydreams
but Sometimes i think i was wasting my time
believing that this wasn't your
worst nightmare and that it
was because your new
words are whispered in
someone else's ear
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC