"dug" poems
Zindagi ne, is kaddar, kiya hai, bas vaar
Bina koi, churee, ya koi, talwaar
Ghaayal; dil ye hua, baar, baar
Zindagi ne, di, chotain hazaar
Gaye thay, hum, is tarah se, bikhar
jooda na, paye thay phirse ye jigar
khaamoshi se, milta tha, bas, karaar
tanhayeeon se , karte thay, iqraar
Jhanke, hum jab, dil ke, jo andar
Sach nikala, gehrayion se, baahar
Shikayat hai, ab na, koi takraar
karne lage hai, hum, khudse jo pyaar!
Translation in English
Self Love
Life has waged on me many a war
Without even a sword or a dagger so far
The heart was wounded time and again
Life hurt and caused me so much pain
My life was but thrown helter skelter
I could not piece my heart together
Silence was but my solace
Solitude was my only grace
When I dug deep within me
The truth I could clearly see
I have no grievances or complaints now
Having realized the importance of self-love
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
#there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
rain
mud and grass
common prayer
good weather
good people
art
and umbrella bags
because who wants to
get wet?
unless it’s with you
I could
I would
jump into the lake
for that rock
sew
cleanse
initials made in sharpie
and unclamp
we run
around the park
the afternoon surrounds us
the woman in the bikini
passes
and we laugh
iced tea
decaf coffee
cake without teeth
and that airstream camper
you always wanted
I could live in your
backyard
I could live somewhere
not here
in silver
prostrated
with my back to the
moon
like dead
like a mummy
like a mirror
and life would make sense
life would be beautiful
like this run
with perfect amounts of sweat
and conversation that runs
waves in the sand
and tells the squirrels
*goodnight, tractor
see you tomorrow*
and the land that billows
is dug up
and chewed
like a goodnight poem
this run with you
takes rest
on my soul
and I crack my ribs
to take the spring’s
twilight
aroma
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Walking down the street, you catch a glimpse of the most beautiful woman
And in a second, your life flashes by, she’s with you till the end
Your grave is freshly dug, she sheds a tear
You've not had enough of her, you refuse to leave
She goes home and your ghost follows
She holds a picture of the two of you, forces a smile
Dinner seems to be the most silent and most painful
The television helps, at times
The actors fall in love time and again, this gives her hope
They make her laugh, yet your ghost just sits there. Expressionless
She reads, and reads some more
Books seem to be her new love
The pile next to her bed grows weekly as she can’t stop turning the pages
An old friend visits her, they speak about you
She puts on a smile but she’s not ready yet
They drive down to the fields and the grass clears her mind if only for a while
Your ghost takes a walk and leave her be for a while, but it’s not done yet
Weeks pass, your ghost wanders
She smiles a lot more, even laughs time and again
Once again, she has others in stitches
The second passes.
She walks past.
And yet her ghost just sits there. Expressionless
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 8:04 PM UTC
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
15.2k
I know I'm not as quiet as I could be when I should be.
But thoughts are just perpetual graves dug over and over.
That seems a bit redundant,
but so is this thought.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
i have sunk into a slow numbness,
perhaps because something broke over me
the second i saw you again.
i realized,
it's better to be in full-blown sorrow
than in a fragile happiness,
forever staving off the blackness.
but instead, i have sunk into a slow numbness.
perhaps because you look away from me now
the exact same way that i look away from you.
your aversion gives me numbness.
don't you see it?
that's all this ever was. a fear of the numbness. a fear of the pain.
your indifference gives me numbness
because who wants to feel it
when the ripping apart begins.
i have smoked to numbness.
i have cried to numbness.
i have raged to numbness.
i have laughed to numbness.
i have embraced the numbness.
i have dug myself into numbness
but you gave me the shovel.
you gave me the numbness.
and i feel absolutely fine. i feel nothing at all.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep
In a similar way as his father of one
And actually, also my father did too
Of those bitter, big cancer scourges
Which always come in unexpected
In this short enough life, a bit early
I've known him ever since first, when
We were knee high to Dad's shotgun
Throughout our small neighborhood
We would all roam to see and look
For ***** toads and such other fun
Without any known end in our sights
We often, came all together, at once
In his parent's, little Clovis back yard
In the under ground, in our deep dug
Wild little clubhouse of our new pride
Approved by our jealous Dad's stare
Made all by ourselves, with great care
Eight by eight, with three feet of deep
Shagged carpet floors, walls around
And places to hide stuff with those
**** magazines we wished to remain
Unseen by our parents, although they
Surely lived through similar wild times
Black lights , fluorescent mod posters
Fans to cool, while there in the deep
Kept the place comfy, from several
Hot summers in New Mexico's heat
Staying nights over, in conspiracy we
Came colluding, while hoping no fame
This place was our place, of known
Refuge from all of the big crazy, with
Frightening world still yet to come
Giving us our youngest freedoms
And also so much being in trouble
As kinda neighborhood hoodlums
Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower
One of us in care would climb
With binoculars to see the dark night
With our pair of walkie talkies held
Warn the others, carousing around
Of any plight, in appearing headlights
Kevan's brother, still alive, Keith
My other brother by another, Buddy
Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris
One other member, as second cousin
Who actually, was my very first kiss
When it was hard to aim, lips to miss
All bound as one, by made up signs
And part of something called PSO
Which, if you don't know well, what it
Truly means, then you were definitely
Not a part of the so very high bliss
Which we suffered through so often
Kevan's true nature is clearly proven
Finally, most completely, at his end
In the nature of his wonderful loving
All his family, who also so loved him
And all those other parties to trouble
Who also so loved, really all of him
© 2017 Jim Davis
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
Last night I
had a dream that
you died.
Everyone we knew
came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s,
and
left, filtering out the front door
slowly
like sand through a sideways sifter,
leaving behind pieces,
words and memories
and casseroles I
could not taste.
And the whole time
everyone was here,
you were here, too.
I could hear
you, smell
you, feel
you.
I could feel you
surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket
I once had and could never leave at home.
I loved you here and here you would stay, with me,
and now you would never leave.
I could keep you.
You were bound to me.
But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving.
You could not go with me and
you
accidentally
and without words
by holding, enveloping,
suffocating
you told me
that you did not want me to ever leave again.
So I stopped.
I stopped leaving.
And the calls stopped, too.
The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town.
All unnecessary noise.
The people left. And then it was just you and me.
Until one day I saw what you had done.
Tripping
I glanced in the mirror and saw.
You had etched yourself into my face.
Dug with your nails
terrifying ravines
escaping the corners
of my eyes. Pulled down
my mouth and every
shallow natural valley turned to
deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting.
My eyes no longer held light.
I saw this, all evidence against you,
and I still loved you.
You had hurt me in ways you never had
while you were here – here – and I knew.
And I still loved you.
Slinking up the stairs
I called you to me. I felt you surround
faster than before and
closer, tighter, colder.
Suffocating, stifling and
so destructive in how you loved me.
Slowly but faster
I grew to know
I would not become you and
you would not become me.
We were stuck on other sides of the mirror.
I was so angry
at what you had allowed me
made me
begged me to become.
Realizing
I gasped and put
hand to heart
it hurt so.
I stood upright
how long have I been bent
took in one long deep breath of stuffy air
how long since I opened the windows
and called you to me
when have I last heard a voice not my own
called you to listen.
I felt the loss of everything else
friends
family
adventure
excitement.
Nothing was left of that here
and I was so angry
and I am so sorry
and I yelled
I screamed
I roared
why are you still here
why are you making me like you
why did you come here and
hold me
and keep me here with you
I am not the one who is dead
and I said
and I regret
and I am so sorry
I can’t have you here
go away
and
leave me alone
and you did.
You left me
all alone.
Why would you leave me?
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
On the winding path
I continued to follow
An owl sat perched
Old tree remain hollow
It’s eyes were wide
Piercing through me
Claws dug in
To the barren tree
Hoot hoot hoot
A steady beat
Inviting me
To take a seat
Under the owl
I took my place
Reached for a stick
To trace
My name in the mud
Rummaged through my bag
Began to take
Yet another drag
Turning to ashes
I was in the night
Under the owl
It felt just right.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
crooked steps
just a seconds glimpse behind
perfect trail before me, each step a gift
Then in the distance I caught sight
of something
I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun
locked embrace
and O' how completely I struggled
that entire night
and O' how the next and the next
and then the next I tasted
betrayal O' how vivid I
I relived the scene in visions,
questioning my eyes,
wondering your motives
I focused, I tried more and more
O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,,
then much closer I witnessed
then, you whispering to the sky
then you reached up your hands
upon the full moon's face
Pulling her down from heaven,
to your promises as you smiled
to deny us, O' I obsessed
You....
Kissing the sun, Promising the moon,
As I watched O' I glared
O' as did I wilt
I withdraw to obscurity
Beneath cover of your growing shadow
a silouhette to follow
making chase of the impossible
I can't give up
all i do is follow,
and look , and press on ,
just to get close enough
To tell you
You are still my sun,
Though you have another
and you are my setting moon,
my unobtainable,...
and my reasoning for every step,
every mile...
Now besought by the breadth
The severity of those betrayals
I hope you knew,
i followed and still do
coming to apprehend
my little tease,
my treasure, my liar
I give chase,
to how completely
how very far I would go
just to prove once and for all
I love you.
I shall, one day...
If and when the stars let me
they decide...
Even they see plainly my envy
As I have no mask
One motive,
Several unknown labels.
I contrast the brilliant
Silk strewn beauty once mine
Falling once, am I choosing
Leg by foot, by will and love
Outshine the sun and by this
Luna will turn it's attention
Perhaps this test of time
Practiced, lonesome patience
May one day return the gaze
Embrace in arms my desire
The only one I want and follow
My world.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
I'm laying in the grave
you dug from the *****
of your heart, covered in
petals of ignorance-
which are not
so blissful anymore.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
Sit with me in silence.
Hold my hand with the hand
Of your mind.
I'll be your shadow; you be mine.
We'll rest in two dimensions.
Watch ourselves in 3D.
Safe in the warmth of
Our common intentions. A womb,
A room for you and me.
*Let's communicate like mountains;
Be like solid, silent giants.
Sit with me in silence.*
A river dug into purest stone after
Uncountable years reflecting
Sunlight, moonlight, stars and blue
Skies unrejecting. Dark clouds too,
In some divine alliance.
*And deep within it's deepest deep,
Two single, uncut diamonds.
Until we're ground to grains of sand,
Sit with me in silence.*
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
Lonely thorns,
Have caressed me,
And pierced me.
With extended arms,
They reached out,
Felt me beneath the skin,
And felt the agony.
Then they bloomed,
Sparkling flowers,
Gifting me,
A bouquet of joy.
Watching me smile,
They rejoiced,
Danced around,
And I danced along.
The million arms,
Dug into me;
And my heart soared,
Reaching out,
Every pore,
Till I was,
A loving being,
And they,
Were the thorny me.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in
Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin
Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight
Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight.
Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow
Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow
Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not
Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got.
Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night
Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright
Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before
Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore.
Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me
Tell me why I look yet I do not really see
Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt
Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt.
Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented
Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented
Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking
Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking.
Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad
Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad
Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance
Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance.
Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all
Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall
Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far
Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star.
Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant
Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant
Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck
Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck.
Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away
Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day
Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust
Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust.
Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong
Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong
Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face
Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace.
Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry
Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry
Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad
Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad.
Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick
Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick
Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted
Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted.
Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me
Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see
Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago
The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
"Napakaraming tao dito sa atin ngunit bakit tila walang natira"
dug dug dug
Bubuksan mo ba to o hindi?
Pag di mo to binuksan pwersahan kaming papasok!
Tatlong katok muli
Pagkatapos isang tadyak sa pinto ang gumising sibilyan na natutulog sa kama mag-isa.
Pagkapasok agad,
Sinaktan, pinuruhan, sinapak at sinikmuraan
Tinutukan ng baril, tinakot bago pakunwaring pinatakbo.
Sinigurado ang pag-asinta sabay kalabit ng gatilyo.
Patay ang hinihinalang druglord sa kanto.
Ngunit pagkatapos, walang patunay na nahanap.
Isang maling pagpatay nanaman ang naganap.
Pagkatapos ng gabing iyon, di lang isa ang namatay.
Isang pamilya ang kinunan ng walang kamalay-malay.
Kung sino pa ang nasa posisyon iyon pa ang mga kaaway ngayon.
Kung sino pa ang nakakangat, siya pa tong namiminsala ngayon.
Nasa mataas nang upuan pero hangad pa rin ay pag-angat.
Halatadong di napapansin, ay hindi! Halatadong walang pake sa mga taong nasa baba.
Pinagmukhang sirko ang mundo, pinapasunod ang bawat tao na parang aso.
Inanyaya pa ang lahat ng madla ng parang ganito.
"Mga bata, matatanda! Halina kayo panoorin ninyo ang palabas naming inihanda at ipakikilala ko sa inyo ang mga kapwa ko sirkero. Na namamahala sa sirkuhang ito."
Palakpak
Palakpak, yan ang nais ng sirkero diba pagkatapos ng palabas?
Pero lahat ng mga tinuring ninyong hayop ay nakawawa at mistulang mamatay na. Ay hindi patay na, yung iba nama'y ginawa ninyong bulag na tagasunod.
At pag wala nang kwenta iiwanan sa daan para damputin ng iilan at buburahin ang mga bakas na naiwan.
Mga kamay nakagapos
Walang takas
Walang lakas
Pagkahimlay
Walang naiwang bakas.
Ang galing maglinis ng krimen, mismong nangakong maglalaan ng pagmamahal ay ang mismo ring sa bansa sumasakal.
Oo, sawa na ako sa tunog ng kampana sa tuwing magmimisa dahil may isa nanamang nawala.
Rindi ang tenga ko sa paulit-ulit na hiyaw, sa paulit- na hiyaw at sa paulit-ulit na hiyaw ng inang umiiyak sa libing ng nagiisang anak.
Kelan pa ba matatapos ang pwersahang pagkitil ng buhay sa pilipinas?
Matagal nang nangangakong magbibigay sila ng kapayapaan pero kasabay nito ang paghawak ng baril sa kanilang kanang kamay.
Mga kamay nakagapos
Walang takas
Walang lakas
Pagkahimlay
Walang naiwang bakas
Makabagong istilo ng pagpatay sa Pinas
Magpapanggap na tagapagligtas, pagkatalikod mo'y
Paalam Pilipinas ang huli **** mabibigkas.
"Napakaraming tao dito sa amin ngunit bakit tila walang natira?"
Pinapatay sila....
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
She is a warm gentle sunflower, whose roots have dug deep, whose stem never wavers.
She looks up to the sun, admiring the bright glorious rays shining down upon her
She feels freedom blowing through her like the wind and feels life pour into her like the rain.
She marvels at the brilliance of the sunset and admires the warm glow it brings to the world.
But silently she cries in the night, for what would she have without the sunlight?
Then she simply looks up to the gleaming luminousness of the stars, and knows she's not alone.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
the feelings of hurting i've been
having since you told me the way you work
are not the worst that i've felt all
my life. it bothers me that you've gone,
and it bothers me that i'm only bothered,
not dying.
i loved you in a way i've never
loved another soul. i loved you to your core.
i loved you as a being in a faulty body.
i loved your past life's symptoms...
still do.
i feel overly sensitive
to the sun - just by rays and not
by warmth. i can soak in the warmth, i can
feel reborn if i keep my eyes closed.
i can see the blood red, begin
again. i open my eyes and i'm all
blood red and even my breath
hurts my skin.
you told me you were akin to disease,
like your own, but toward me,
and i should have made it more clear
how well i would handle the word "terminal"
if it was you who directed it at me.
to be honest i would love nothing more
than being restricted to bedrest,
afflicted with you.
you have every permission to
eat at my brain like a poison.
burn my heart with equal parts fire and acid.
i'm asking you for it. i'm asking for you.
i'm calling for you and you hear me. we see
each other, stare. you don't answer.
you wanted to clean me up, dust the
dirt of you off me, wipe the mud from my eyes
that you think surely must be keeping me
from seeing clearly. but there is no mud, just
my own dark circles. i am clean
though i stand in the deepest hole i've
ever dug. still you scrub. my skin goes
numb.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Fresh from the kennels. A whole world away.
Companion conversion for a young castaway.
A darling of distraction with irrational fears.
The clumsiest canine with ever aware ears.
Guardian of gourmet. Suspect of all sounds.
He'll catch himself someday, spinning around.
A tug of war here. A muddy mess there.
A lick to the face of the humans in his care.
How thrilled his tail and tremendous his teeth.
How dug up the planet from paw underneath.
The running for fun. The claiming of trees.
The car window ride along - face full of breeze.
--------------------------------------------------------
But now he's a master of "Stay!".
His eagle ears succumbing to gravity's sway.
Napping much more, barking much less.
Now rarer the cuddle, the clean, the caress.
Patch protector. Owner of no debts.
A veteran of various villainous vets.
Birds as trivial as the tennis ball is far.
Eyes now as hazy as the indistinguishable stars.
A howl at the moon. A loosening tooth.
An ode to memories of a modest youth.
They still love this pup. He still loves them back.
May he long be remembered as he faces the black.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
there was little hedgehog he just long to be
a little Sherlock holmes and solve a mystery
he bought himself a fiddle and a pipe and hat
then off to solve the puzzle of the missing cat
searching for some clues to where the cat could be
looking for some evidence sherlock holmes was he
he took along his spyglass to see what could be found
searching everywhere in the forest ground
he searched for while along the forest floor
there and back again and again once more
suddenly he heard a little purring sound
hedgehog he decided to take a look around
there he saw the cat he had trapped his paw
he was very stuck and couldnt walk no more
hedgehog dug him out now the cat was free
no longer was he missing he solved the mystery
hedgehog played a tune upon his little fiddle
just like Sherlock Holmes he had solved the riddle
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
I once found a field,
A beautiful field.
A field that humans have not disturbed.
I lived by the trees near this beautiful field.
But I lived in complete ignorance,
as two men, each with a *****
came to the middle of the grass,
and struck down a wooden plank.
Before long, my forest disappeared.
Instead of grass growing,
The only thing that surfaced,
was the pale gray stone that was laid there.
I watched as they dug deep into the ground,
where tall boxes of stone and glass rose.
They stood proud against one another,
one building higher than the last.
But they blocked my view,
of a once beautiful sky.
Before long, the field turned into a city,
Cars and buses drove though the winding streets.
People soon started to appear,
and the field I once knew was long forgotten.
A fountain has now been placed,
where the pioneers have struck their plank,
With no tree in sight,
I throw the last seed into the water.
Where it settles to the bottom with coins and marbles,
never to sprout.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
I drop four ice cubes into my coke out of habit.
I kiss my sweet love four times for good luck so our team can win the game.
I catch myself counting to four when Im ready to speak up, I don't count to three or even ten I count to four.
It was on my back in big white letters when dad looked through the chain linked fence and said with every ounce of his pride "Take it for a ride lex."
That's the day I got my first homerun.
That's my old man's favorite number and mine too.
Ill never know why I look at him like hes god.
He spelt my name wrong two years back.
The letters said L-e-x-i,
I whispered that's not how you spell my name it's spelled L-e-x-i-e.
I whispered because I didn't want to embarrass him, I thought if I talked quiet enough no one could see my lips break around the words in shock.
I was 5 when me and mom left him.
The number 5 is my most unlucky number it always takes something from me, like my dog, she was in my arms on the fifth of may when heaven called for her to go home.
Dad came the next day to burry her, the hole he dug was to shallow.
Days after her funeral foxes came and
scattered her bones across the field.
It was a treasure hunt to find all of them, I tried to save her one last time.
I should really give that man a call.
I'll do it tomorrow , or I'll wait for him to call.
I'll count to four before I answer.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
there was a little hedgehog he was very sad
it was christmas time and he had lost his dad
the snow had got so deep he got left behind
and the hedgehogs dad he just couldnt find
he just kept on walking in the snow so deep
then he found some snow piled up in a heap
he dug into the snow then he heard a snore
there he found his dad sleeping on the floor
hedgehog he was happy that he had found his dad
it made his christmas happy best one he ever had
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC