"earbud" poems
There was a certain comfort in the time I spent
Sitting against a wall outside in the cold
They don’t tell you what its like to freeze to death
But here’s what wishing you would is like
The trees sway with another chilling breeze
There’s a little stinging pain in my toes
Its been about 20 minutes out here
My feet are the only things cold
I'm thinking
Way too much about how the frost feels
My hands become red
a little icy itch not quite numbing my fingers
Another 20 minutes go by and I can feel the cold travel
I have no intention of leaving
I don’t want to
Maybe i’ll stay all night
An hour in my feet are cold on the outsides
My ankle is freezing
I adjust my earbud and look up to the sky
My breath can be seen in the air
I think about my mother finding my body
Bitten blue with winter
2 hours in and my feet are starting to ache
Its an interesting feeling
Almost like I’ve broken a bone but can’t quite feel it
I don’t want to be here anymore
Not outside, id love to stay in the icy air all night
But here, in front of my so called home
Filled with my so-called family
I’d like to be staying somewhere else
Somewhere where they aren’t
Somewhere where the people who care about me
Are all far far away
And if I die, they know in a few days
Not right away
If I’m sick they’ll send a gift card
And call so many times I’ll have to turn off the phone
So maybe I’ll just sit here
And let nature have its way with me
Because I'm not ready to go back in
And live in a “family”
Apr 26, 2022
Apr 26, 2022 at 12:46 PM UTC
The painful part is how he talks like me.
I've got buckets of hands
and they all want to be around you.
The average human body is about 65% water
When I see you my body is about 88% water
I'm satisfied with approximate rhymes.
Like to rain again.
Or to lie for eternity.
I'll say your name for years, that'll sound off too.
Bobbing your head to your favorite song
You lent me an earbud
White noise
The painful part is how he acts like me.
Or maybe it isn't him,
or you,
or me,
maybe it isn't anything at all.
Wouldn't that be terrifying?
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
He was asking for something,
I took out an earbud to hear what.
He was born ten years after me
But looked ten years older.
He told me I'd never been in jail,
Never been homeless.
He asked if I knew
How he knew.
I said, "Good guesses."
He told me I looked different from other people,
Said there was no fear in my eyes.
He was proud of knowing so much about me.
But there was more he did not know,
Such as what makes me different
And why there is no fear in my eyes.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 9:35 AM UTC
I know a bit about
*learning to dance in the rain
like nobody is watching*
but...
I know way more about
dancing like a *****
in the kitchen
despite the warden
standing aghast
eating up his own
billowy firebreath
soliloquy reprimands
I earbud block
shimmy, pivot and pop
raising vibration tornado
toss it a flippant middle
and cheeky smile
without breaking stride
devil dismayed
lips keep on syncing
as if I can hear demeaning
demonic procession
but I already know
what he’s saying
*stop dancing like that
in front of our son*
you mean…
to the beat of my own pulse
shaking divine creation
diffusing rainbow throes
undulating radiant orbitals
all for my own blissing?
one day that boy
will be a man
who knows
better
than to ever
call a goddess
a ***** in the kitchen
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
I hope you wore a sweater,
in your favorite shade of blue.
It gets cold in late November,
_(it gets darker faster, too)_
I hope the shoes you wore fit snugly
_(even if your socks don't match)_
I hope your last day wasn't ugly,
I hope the pain was over fast.
I'm sure you felt your sadness deeply,
I'm sure you felt your heart ache too.
When you took a walk when all were sleeping,
in your favorite shade of blue.
I wonder what it felt like,
to pick the perfect tree.
To end your painful heartache,
snug shoes on dangling feet.
But my most pressing question,
that I would ask of you,
is where did you lose your earbud?
_(you're wearing one, not two)_
They moved you to the metal table,
_(the one that tilts down at an angle)_
They cut the sweater off you too,
your favorite one in midnight blue.
They make their notes:
your weight,
your height.
They check your shoulder width and write:
"He will fit a standard casket"
_(they carry on with their assessment)_
"Rope indentation - on the neck
Eyes and fingers - blue and red
Socks mismatching
Nike shoes
One earbud gone"
_(that's all I knew)_
Tell me why'd you take that walk?
I know the road ahead looked bare.
Tell me how you chose a song.
Did you brush your teeth and comb your hair?
Did it happen on a school night?
_(your file says you were in 12th grade)_
Did you tell your mom you loved her?
- with your mind already made.
So to the boy with just one earbud,
I'm sorry this world felt so wrong.
I hope you're in your favorite sweater,
and you're listening to your favorite song.
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 8:44 AM UTC
we all love in our own way, in the way we can. sometimes that love is loud and bright and WOW WOW WOW. but sometimes its not. its quiet like making that drive. like looking me straight in the eyes. like giving you the left earbud. like mwah mwah let me kiss your neck. and on the days i don’t feel like sinking, i know i should love you better. like stop running. stop your tears. stop your lies. sometimes it'll tell its own lies, the best lies you've ever heard. it loves like contusions and strained voices. like bahama mama blues and my vampire eyes. love like the first time I saw you cry. like a Sunday afternoon, Tuesday night, or Friday morning. love like we have the answers. or maybe we don’t. i mean an unconventional love is better than no love at all.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
7:00am
Shelter Island,
Sat Sep10
on the south west edge of the isle,
the slowrise sunrise just behind the trees,
so early day yet, no full frontal of a sun
bathing to wake up woman, babes asleeping, but the
animals know exactly this hours early
perfection.
indeed, the crazy squirrels are random
hither and dithering in spurts of energy,
only stopping to observe a viewing of the humans
nest~resting through the glass doors with their
inquisitive, self-possessed, bedside reckless manner,
perfected.
the suns pealing gleaming gleanings picks
out any shiny reflective surface that enhances
its low-rise greeting, with a chorale of living objects
singing “Hallelujah orb, what’s in store for us today,”
river~bay, wake-less, its becalming, marbling surface, again,
perfected.
me?
I’m mugged by the perfection intersection of
my eyes-scape, first coffee, the holy quietude, only
the regular soft breaths beside, lend a counterpoint
to these thoughts and the litany of chores the iCal happily, annoyingly, prematurely but with certainty lists, resistance (Walk!)
perfectly ok.
ok not to move an inch, watching this daily movie rerun,
that energizes hope, a contemporary localized contented without the
humdrum of blaring headlines, talking heads, and the
infiltration of the guilty unfulfilled responsibilities demanding a due,
then heavens signal me, Donovan, earbud singing Colors, confirmed
perfectly ok!
“*Yellow is the color of my true love's hair
In the mornin', when we rise
In the mornin', when we rise
That's the time, that's the time
I love the best*”
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 8:21 AM UTC
I remember that period of time
when we both didn't have
our licenses so we have to
go on public transportations
I love how we used to
share a pair of earphones
during our daily bus rides
to our way back home
That feeling of emptiness
from my other ear
as relaxing music
whispered profound lyrics
It felt like something was wrong
yet I had the privilege to
sit close to you
and lean my head against yours
I miss those times when
we'd always
share a book
during our train rides
Although the books
weren't really read
the only thing we're reading
were each other's eyes
Now years has passed
and there are times when
after a busy and tiring day
I leave my car back home
With an open book in my lap
and an earbud to each ear
I would look over the window
of that bus we used to take
As I torture my own mind
by conjuring old memories
just because I miss
missing you.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
the earbud cacophony keeps my company
speeding past whatever else was percolating
(thoughts have a hard time running straight)
I fear the silence of a lonely bedroom
submerged in cotton ball of darkness
a pillow over my head to filter the smog of bad ideas
it doesn't help
I feel ****
unprotected and ashamed
brought to my knees by a lack of serotonin
my only fear:
the thoughts of those who think they loved me
and the regret that will make them think they loved me more
as if a hushed word or "thank you" coulda made everything alright
by setting a candle in the smog alight
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
a Saturday afternoon love song
<>
finally the breezes have sheared the humidity,
away, away, out, out sluggish, do nothing thoughted spots,
so peculiar to a Saturday August afternoon,
passing like a last exhaling breath,
quiet like, no receipt, no return, no raising of the turgid, languid lungs
one more time
alone with quiet contemplation for sole companionship,
observe a regatta of sailing board boats, silenced passerby's,
orderly and regal, the wind keeping them tidily single filed
their empowering wind makes me prone to
thoughts of singing,
Leon Russell's A Song For You,
up next on the playlist,
but the squirrels beg off,
the rabbits hide away 'neath the deck,
the craven ravens retreat to the highest branches,
alone, laughing at their impolite, unsubtle slipping away of the
dearly departed
earbud a semi-solo performance, a duet,
me backed up by
Leon and the river-baying waves,
a city boy singin$ rockily,
in a place where a city boy has no earthly business to be, ^
especially singing,
chanting to everyone, no one in particular,
listening real careful like to the words of two oaky, growly voices,
leftovers from the Sixties, sing a song to the ones they love
*"I love you in a place where there's no space or time,
I love you for my life, You're a friend of mine
And when my life is over, Remember when we were together,
We were alone and I was singing this song to you"*
sometimes it just doesn't get any better,
under the wings of the sky and its multi-shaded blue blessings,
don't need counting, enumerating, all kind of blending going on
the old alone days been on the mind,
those laser clouded future gazing hazing days,
when you listened to music non-stop, but never sung along,
strange though, I wept then, and weeping now,
can't quite make the connection...
*guess my singing is still
just that bad*
<>
August 13, 2016
05:50pm
S.I.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
Half a pint is still a cup
A good amount to drink
Half a blink means so much more
As a secret wink
Half an earbud works just right
To hear two things at once
Half a pencil's all you need
To keep drawing for months
Half a shoe is best for sun
And splashing in the sea
Half a notebook feels just right
To write a short story
Half a secret's good enough
To keep your mind at bay
And that's the way it ought to be
Until I'm brave someday
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
I can't breathe properly.
There's something stuck inside me,
Where my heart should be.
I think it might be you.
I couldn't eat today,
And I went on three walks,
And danced the whole time.
I think I've got it bad.
You distract me like a love song
Playing in one earbud
Through every conversation,
All day long.
So pardon me if I start smiling
For no apparent reason,
And don't ask me what I'm thinking
Because I won't tell you.
The corners of my eyes
Seem to think everyone is you,
And your face is etched
Into the insides of my eyelids.
On that note, I'm sorry
For the constant ringing in your ears,
But I can't seem to stop
Thinking about you.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
a book listener,
earbud'd, her literary tastes
sensately incessant,
to head-hear me speak,
iPad down, iPhone paused,
a 10~30 second ritual
while I grrrrin and bear it
a precious jeweled day,
sun providing a great moderation,
76 degrees Fahrenheit,
a steady breeze, 10~15 mph,
a human cooler
she blanket cosseted,
me relieved,
just a memory now,
a sworn oath to do a three mile morning
hike in the nature reserve
overcome with gratitude for that,
and a perfection blessing of a day,
in normal voice, I let the guard take a weekend day off,
pronouncing I love you vey much
at this very moment of poetry inscribing...
so she stops, unbuds, buttons pushed,
and says what dud, duh,
what was it that you said?
nothing unimportant, says me
(why spoil her twice, thinking)
No I insist!
so I repeat my grace laudatory
and she says, I
just wanted to hear it
twice....
and i wonder what else she hears
when I am being disregarded....
I guess this,
a love poem
of sorts,
though confused,
cause I been used,
well and proper
and quite like it,
I think....a little devilry
a spice to a relationship repast,
don't you worry,
I'll get her back
but where, when, how...
Mmmmmm....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
snowman-flesh flutters across the threshold
melting into the Jack-o-Lantern-Welcome-Mat
disappearing faster than its supposed to;
the door closes by an auto-piloted-hand
while the other tugs at tangled earbud chords
the little white knobs are dislodged, interrupting
that song she has listened to 14 times today
because when she falls in love with a song,
she falls into each note and memorizes
every single breath.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Tonight.
I saw a woman walking with earbuds in--one earbud was in--while conversing over the phone with someone. Beauty overwhelmed her mortal body. A piece of her hair had loosely fallen from the right side of her scalp, and her blonde, beach waves blew in the wind.
Behind her was a man in a coral v-neck. He had blonde hair and the body build of a high school **** Handsome. As the woman ahead of him leisurely strolled the streets of Minneapolis in her athletic shorts, which were outlined by gray stripes and dipped up in the middle of the side of her thighs, the wind seemingly spun the jock's face 180 degrees. His eyes were awestruck and full of alive hope, wonder, and desire. Lust. What a picture.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 7:42 PM UTC
When the time comes for me to finally let go
I have forgotten how to
When the time comes for me to finally let go
there are scars
scratches from my nails digging into the last piece
the realization that this probably meant nothing to you
the sorrys
why was i always the one saying sorry?
When the time comes for me to finally let go
bring band aids for the tips of my fingers
the claw marks can stay
don’t let me forget what happened that night in september
don’t let his words cover my mouth again
you were always in my mind
the constant reminder
you said i was beautiful but you loved her more
When the time comes for me to finally let go
remind me of the bad things
remind me of the stares when he laughed to his friends about my feelings
remind me of the nights he would ask me to be with him
because she was not
remind me of the 3ams, sitting on my bathroom floor
clutching my knees and
shaking because I knew she owned your nights
remind me of every poem ever written
tell me that they don’t always have to be about you
they never were about you
and remind me there are more important things
theres always something more important
When the time comes for me to finally let go
take me back to the high school hallway
one earbud in my ear, one in yours
falling in love with a carefully drawn character
show me what was wrong
remind me of the pictures of her that he had slipped into the pocket of his ripped jeans
remind me i was not special
i was not her
When the time comes for me to finally let go you are imprinted in my mind
a fantasy, an angel, a perfect person
remind me of what you are not
remind me of what i don't have to be
because i never had to be her
i was only me
when the time comes, when it finally comes, remind me how one day this will be easy
one day i will not think about the cracks you left in my skeleton
calling them love letters
one day it will only be me
and one day i will accept that
i am only
me
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:54 AM UTC
Words flow from
electric sparks
emitting ink thoughts from a
metaphorical heart.
Silence
reigns but for the
melody of an earbud anthem and the
tap of a pencil,
a nonexistent word for a nonexistent standstill.
Footsteps
echo on loop
and voices resume
empty conversations for
another
empty
day.
Earbuds tangle,
a metaphor bigger than these
words can convey:
fold
into a loop, one end
twisting around thrice,
tucking under to
pull.
The cold,
the monotony,
the burden of walking a world that
recently became
so dull,
so black and white.
Count the stars as they
count the cars that
count the red lights on
subzero nights,
a flip of a single silver dime
as
thoughts become optical illusions displaying desire for
less-troubled times.
Voices ring out in a
false symphony
as a
street-corner Jesus has an epiphany
of
color
and sound to
entice the audience
with its ambience.
A phone rings and
the operator claims that
help is on the way,
but
the victim is all alone because,
no,
nobody came
as the water rose higher and
the flames became
guilt and blame
for a long-ago sin
that
no one remembers being involved in,
The tide keeps
coming until the sparks are
silenced
and the brain is tamed by elegance lost
after the first verse.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
he was so alone
standing under that tree in the dark
scuffling at the wet leaves with toes of unlaced sneakers
one earbud in, no music playing
i wanted to reach out and touch him, walking by
dig my shoe into the leaves by his foot
make a tunnel for he & i to escape
---run from dripping branches and the crushed smell of autumn
that constricted the air above us---
but i passed the boy by
and pressed myself to a tree twenty feet from his
he dug up the dirt with busy feet
my feet itched, they twitched with his
we deepened our tunnels...
i guess you could say?
would it be right to think,
we are alone together.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
I notice the way
lovers linger at each other
for two seconds longer
and how
you mumble along to that tune
escaping from your right earbud.
The gallery cafe holds
artists in a room full of art
and I feel as if I'm
interrupting something
special
here.
I'd frozen that expression
portrayed by his features-
glowing when she'd
waltzed in;
tucked it into my bursting pocket as another stolen moment
and I think
love
is a funny thing.
Untouched
yet experienced
and I wonder why he
had eyes for her
and how long they'd last
or how he'd chosen
that particular song;
lyrics involuntarily memorized
for what other reason than fondness;
or how after knowing someone for longer than your memory can recall
that the creases in their index finger
is as familiar as the back of your hand;
so can all these emotions
overflowing with
serotonin and
caffeine,
dopamine and
adrenaline
be classified as love?
I think it can.
// Is this a milestone or ongoing progress? //
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
the bus to school is loud
but the screams of students drown out
the voices in her head
so she never minds
she puts in an earbud
and listens to music
she still feels very tired
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
grubby brown land
half-moon like a splash of milk
punctuation in the darkest of darks
and the dog is barking
mustard-bearded with its earbud leg
and chalky eye eying a bird
red-tailed bottle
above the ladder to nowhere
or black everywhere
a place a dog still howls
at the nonchalant moon
night-time's noiseless citizen
Aug 26, 2024
Aug 26, 2024 at 5:53 PM UTC
Holding one earbud in my hand
I am half in the world, half in my head
The dichotomy is soothingly shattering
I have power over this splintering
I have power over something
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
She was beside this guy,
and beside herself with her
and him. She remembers sitting
on his shoulders while the sun
set over Jerusalem. She
was smiling in such a way
that the sun was backing down
from a challenge neither it nor I
had seen, which is why
I took the picture.
It was beautiful to see. The tilt
of her head for his photographs, the link
of her arm for his steadying walk, the share
of her sounds with him--one
earbud apiece--all the things
she used to do with me
And in the holy city I was blessed
to see her dance
between two kinds of love
so seamlessly
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
One day we met at a crowded street.
Your hands were on your pockets and your clothes were a bit damp.
An earbud dangling on your left ear and your eyes a hazelnut brown.
You got that vague smell of chocolate and your lips swollen red in the cold December air.
People walked past us,
hurriedly and unknowingly,
but time seemed to froze right at that moment.
Everything that's around us was a blurry picture of dismantled motion and I continued to stare upon your eyes in awe.
You looked at me quizzically and I just smiled in response.
I am a faded portrait of an identity you once knew and talked to.
I held my grip tight to my journal of poetries about you,
that I know I should give to you but I can't.
I'm there,
standing in front of my missing piece hoping that he'd remember me,
but you just shook your head and walked past me like I'm never a part of your memory.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
the air was cool, relaxing,
when he captured her
attention. he was leaning
against a pillar, long hair
pulled back into a thick
ponytail. his denim jacket
had a patch on left side,
right above the pocket.
one earbud in, the other
was just hanging, dangling.
his face was calm; he must
have been deep in thought,
staring at a spot on the ground
next to his heavy boot. he took
a puff of his dwindling cigarette
without blinking, brown eyes
unmoving. he carried the weight
of the world. with a sigh, he
lifted his eyes. they met hers.
he blushed and her heart leapt.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC