"eavesdrop" poems
I want to love a stalker
He'd be the perfect date
If I told him I was too busy
He'd camp outside and wait
I want to love a stalker
He'd always know the right thing to say
Because he'd eavesdrop on my conversations
He'd follow me all day
I want to love a stalker
Then I'd never be alone
He'd come after me forever
Even when I tell him no
He won't accept rejection
He'll give me his whole life
Even when I say I don't want it
He'd never give up, he'd never cry
I want to love a stalker
Want to fight him and run away
I want him to ****** the boys that come near me
And carry me away
I want to love a stalker
Because I have no other choice
I want to love a stalker
Want him to pin me down and hold me tight
I want to love a stalker
Because I'm always going to fight
If he were a stalker I could say no over and over again
And he would never let me go
Until I say no while thinking yes
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
Who would have guessed — when I tilted my heart
toward baby lizard, perched on a colored desert stone,
she’d blink one eye at me, turn to smile, it seemed,
and lend a listening ear?
I’d only said in a lizard way
“I love you”.
Who would have thought — when that stone had heard me
loving her, it would, it seem, speak back?
Loving stone too, I was!
Stone, I so admire your villages.
I smile toward your many stone peoples.
I eavesdrop on universal questions posed
around sacred fires carefully tended.
And around one hearth, among
cinder specks scattered – one minute wisp,
one grain of cinder there.
Dare I say I love you too?
For in that cinder grain I hear —
worlds of stars, sweetly singing!
By way of explanation, reader friend,
such is what a practice of
Loving All Beings Equally
has made of me.
A crazy being?
Could be.
But would you nonetheless
accept the possibilities
and likewise go love adventuring?
If you’d prefer, we all could earnestly
and objectivity talk it through.
Or say ~ Love come! Come!
Speak through us.
We are listening.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians
(Caesar non supra grammaticos)
I am licensed to drive.
I am licensed to broke.
I am licensed to be birthed.
I am licensed to marry, divorce and someday I will be
coroner-permission"end" to die.
If I so choose, I can be state approved to cut your hair,
have my own business, weld, own a dog, panhandle, play tennis in Central Park, dance in my own cabaret, even commit suicide legally.
These United States were a refuge for my foreign born parents,
Bless you both for privileging me such,
you gifted me a country where my voice, clear and unashamedly,
unguarded can speak here unafraid, for our
Caesar has no authority over the grammarians.
Tho the IRS gonna come after me, and king phony Barack,
Gonna eavesdrop on my privacy,
As long as I can write my poetry free and clear, untaxed,
won't ever mortgage my soul to any government hack
I will carry my U.S. passport in my left pocket over my heart,
Till they take my freedom to speak away.
Then I will get a gun for free speech is worth dying for...
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
We live in our own world,
A world that is too small
For you to stoop and enter
Even on hands and knees,
The adult subterfuge.
And though you probe and pry
With analytic eye,
And eavesdrop all our talk
With an amused look,
You cannot find the centre
Where we dance, where we play,
Where life is still asleep
Under the closed flower,
Under the smooth shell
Of eggs in the cupped nest
That mock the faded blue
Of your remoter heaven.
2.9k
When I found the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
My presence made them
hush their green breath,
embarrassed, the way
humans stand up, buttoning their jackets,
acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if
the conversation had ended
just before you arrived.
I liked
the glimpse I had, though,
of their obscure
gestures. I liked the sound
of such private voices. Next time
I'll move like cautious sunlight, open
the door by fractions, eavesdrop
peacefully.
2.9k
i'm slowing beginning to see a pattern appear
in the form of the everyday actions i carry out
as i open my window to eavesdrop on the bushes
whispered conversations in the breeze
as i change the guard of mugs and glasses
that stand watch on my bedside table
as my room obsesses over mess and grows attached to dust
and cobwebs
as i swim in a thousand pots of tea
as the night meets me at our corner between dusk and darkness
as he does since every day.
riding his bicycle
stars chasing wildly after him
and we are reunited once again
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
We spy on each other
Whether for Work
Or Pleasure
We think Privacy
Exists
But it doesnt
We all eavesdrop
on each other.
Doesn't this mean
We live in a big brother society?
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
We talk about change,
but expect others to do it.
We talk about fake news,
but keep reading it.
We talk about democracy,
but don't listen to the people.
We talk about lies,
but keep believing them.
We talk about tolerance,
but suppress opinions.
We talk about human rights,
but torture and ****
We talk about privacy,
but eavesdrop on all communication.
We talk about freedom,
but fight endless wars.
We talk about hypocrisy,
but are the biggest hypocrites.
We talk about so many things,
but not what really matters.
Stop talking,
start acting!
Maybe.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
The wind rises
in the courtyard
baring extraordinary
imaginings
faithful oscillations
of space time
evanescence of
life and death
always mutedly
move side to side
the wind rises
the whole range of experiences
of a flower-like butterfly
venturing through
the damp and dusty
it makes the bronze in the night
cry in its reply
a rustling sound woke me up
its the sycamore castle outside
that carries the burden of dawn
the tree is just like a book opened
birds, insects etc are inserted in the pages
i walk into the bones
to eavesdrop on the breath of this minute
to learn its calmness
and indifference
towards the coming and going
of multifarious clouds.
Mar 15, 2023
Mar 15, 2023 at 11:00 AM UTC
Great news Marjorie!
I have had tasar treatment on my eyes, so I am finding my keyboard much easier to abuse.
What a week I have had! Since you sent my letter to the local paper, I have had several people contact me. I had no idea the scribbles of an old woman like me could generate such interest. A young reporter even called round, and I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance, the poor boy went red and laughing all the time. In fact I was certain he needed medical attention but he assured me he would be fine in a minute. He did not tell me what it was he found so amusing, but young people can be quite strange, don't you find? He may have needed the toilet but was too shy to ask.
Despite this we did get on well, and he even said he wished I was his Grandma, which I thought was very sweet of him, while making odd gestures with his hands.
After we had enjoyed a mice cup of tea together I showed the young man around the garden and he seemed very interested in the greenhouse, remarking on its spaciousness. I asked if he had green fingers and rather enigmatically he replied 'sometimes'. He enquired if I would be interested in renting it out to him, an idea I found rather appealing. I think he wants to grow salad plants for his family. My faith in the younger generation is restored.
His mobile telephone rang while we were in the garden, and feeling it was rude to eavesdrop I went back into the kitchen, but I did overhear him say that he hadn't had so much fun since his granny died, so I suppose they must have given her a good send-off.
I am rather enjoying my position as a minor celebrity in the village. Even the bus driver was more cheerful than usual today, so I smiled and gave him a cheeky little w*nk as I got off, and I'm sure he noticed it.
Ever your devoted fiend, Dottie **
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC
As I sat upon the dock’s edge, idly skimming the questionably clean water with my toes, I closed my eyes and opened my ears to eavesdrop on the birds chattering across the fen.
Were they conspicuously cawing the sought after secrets of the universe in a foreign tongue, swapping stories of the skyway, boasting of their knowledge as they choked down half-drowned worms, brooding over the offensive punch line we call truth?
Or were they casually chirping how healthy the sun is for their plumage, teasing the hen for her aerial shortcomings, sharing seeds of sesame, and politely asking the woodpecker to stop his work, if only for a moment?
In my stasis of thought, a leech writhed to the water’s surface with intention, and rudely hooked onto my big toe without even asking first.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
Volatile nerves tremble and skin is raised, reaching.
I find an eyelash that clings, his gentle fingers are hard, gentle, never weak.
He blinks and so does the camera and I’m still, a breath caught within infrared.
There are trees, leaves that delight as I eavesdrop in their chatter. I touch the bark, pretend to not see the scars. I whisper for permission to leave another. D plus E.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Coffee Shop after Club 16 Fitness
listening people assaying the content
of the messages, against the background of noises
like layers,voices upon voices,
but there is one voice, holding court with herself,
staring through the floor at my feet, finding oneself,
I would hope,
among the chorus in the coffee shop,
among the chorus in her conversation,
under her white and blue striped scarf,
her wrinkles cause twinkles at the corners of her very sad eyes,
if she had stopped talking even for a second, I would have been surprised.
The erosion of her has begun her cheeks have permanent fissures where
the tears and rivulets have run for ages.
Her small frame and skirt fill the chair,
as it seems there are others there,
she is so lonely and alone, her skin
tone fits the surroundings well,
how long she will talk, time will tell.
I wasn't rude and did not eavesdrop or interrupt,
I am sure that would have meant an abrupt
halt to her flow, of prayer for ones like me, a by product,
of my own invention, as she resembled Mother Theresa,
with her conviction of non-stop prayer, from her chair.
©DWE122013
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
The moon senses my glee,
And so in him I confide,
He peevishly teases me!
And his candour he fails to hide.
The naughty winds eavesdrop,
And spread the word like fire,
Carrying my secret from the top,
They take it down to the wire!
Soon the scattered clouds asunder;
Join in unison and loudly wonder,
"So this is why her scarlet cheeks,
Convey more than what she speaks,
And now it has widely spread,
the reason why she blushes red.
Like a bright and luminous flame,
She glows at the mention of his name,
If his thought should cross her head,
She is sure to turn crimson red."
With a teasing twitter, every bird,
Hops around & spreads the word,
The flowers animatedly sway,
And scatter my secret away!
Further smeared by the rain,
Over the hills and over the plane,
With nowhere to shroud and hide,
My secret spreads far and wide.
Thus making it widely known,
My heart in rhythmic beating,
Cannot stop itself from repeating,
His name, in an undertone!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
I think about you. All the time. Every second of a minute, every minute of an hour, every hour of a day, every day of a month.
Even right now in utter silence, with just the purr of the fan and the clicking of keyboard keys as I type are heard, you are in my mind. You are in my mind, and I wish - if it's only possible - that you'd fall from my head, just as how you are in my vision - angelic - to my arms so I can embrace you, place my head on your chest, and just drown all other noise as I eavesdrop to the thumps of your heart.
But I looked at my arms and what I saw is my pillow. My favorite pillow. The one I talk to when I very much miss you. The one I cry to when all I wanted is for your shoulders to catch my tears. The one that put me to sleep many a night as the idea of you float in my head. I close my eyes and think of you. And in my dreams you are smiling. In my dreams you said you do miss me too. In my dreams you never let me go until I stopped crying. In my dreams I am sleeping soundly beside you with your breath as my lullaby.
Then I'd awake. Open my eyes. And think of you again, almost involuntarily. 'Cause I cannot stop, and I think I never will.
I love you.
I really do.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
*When you feel like I'm starting to slip away, ask these unmade sheets how many times I've said I never want to see you go over eyes that flood tears. They'd tell you. Perhaps the warmth of my skin has lingered on its fibers. Wrap it around your body; feel my embrace.
When you feel like I'm getting cold, place your ears on these walls of white and eavesdrop to every remnant echo of burning, unsaid "I love you." They'd tell you. Find solace in the whispers of my love, in every heartbeat these walls would reverberate.
I wish you don't, but when you feel like I've never truly loved you, read every word I wrote to every inch of my red notebook. They'd tell you. I left my heart there... every single tiny crumb.*
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
There is no metaphor for a gleaming mortal,
My life time carved into his skin,
Such a miniscule number of existing words,
None to describe such an impeccable sin.
His fingers lace into my dismantled soul,
as we eavesdrop on the tears of the sky,
persuading stars to straighten their paths,
and to the usual, we may bid a goodbye.
sweating with fever from the same little germ,
we are wrapped inside of a forbidden heat,
truth plotting against our inevitable rise,
Such a brilliant love leaves us feeling elite.
Mortal scent mixing in with eyes, hair, and lips,
Passion will never justify this chemical reaction,
There is no hyperbole to express his incredible lure,
And from this world, he is my sweet mortal distraction...
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 12:53 AM UTC
VOICES
To hear ancient music in the pines
or the bright moon speaking on
a cold, wild night.
Voices flow with song and speed,
loud as a busy highway, soft
as transparent air.
Vine leaves speak in whispers,
palm fronds shout their struggles
with the wind.I eavesdrop on
the gossip of the waves as
the blue hush of dawn fills
the morning sky and gulls
recite their own mournful hymns.
So many voices translate
mintues into hours, hours
into days. So many messages
passed on in time’s quiet
mystery, and the language
of heart whispers its own
gentle secrets.
Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 7:31 AM UTC
Rainy Day To-Do List
Perch high in your favorite
tree on the perfect branch
Observe the receding lightning’s
final flashes.
Eavesdrop on a robin’s conversation.
Clap Along with the thunder
Go ahead and leave a few bare
footprints in the soft earth.
Ponder the low hanging clouds.
Sing with the birds.
And then…
Disappear inside with the first
rays of sunshine.
Sunny Day To-Do List
Take a moment
and listen in on a yellow grasshopper’s gossip
through the towering blades of grass.
Let the sun kiss your cheeks
till they are pink
and let the warm breeze gently soothe
your rouged face.
Wonder what the ants are up to.
Watch while a leaf falls down.
Compare the sky to a
calm,
blue
ocean
And dare not disturb it with a sound.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
Yea, ye shalt ne'er be discarded
such as is aged linen lace,
rather ye shalt e'er be safeguarded
insofar as is my place.
Thou shalt see auroral fire
and eavesdrop on the surf,
and embody thy soul
with another soul
so as to blaze
with
e'en brighter
worth.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Taming the wild within you,
Is the path to become one with the jungle,
The chore is, yes, difficult so,
But helps you seek the Savage in you.
Eavesdrop the whispering chilly wind,
Blowing out in the open,
Infer the talk of the invisible giants,
Blasphemy to the very end.
What's the Savage? you might ask,
Its something that will forever last,
It is the beast in you,
It will be the best of You in your mortal flask!
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 4:11 AM UTC
i can never find my drink
it's not so much that i forget
it's more so that i'm never around long enough to circle back twice
but that's alright
i can always find someone's
i talk to myself
**** near constantly
i'd like to think it's not to hear myself speak
but to let myself think
the only time i get the chance
to say the things i've always longed to
is when i'm the only one around to listen
i love to listen
i also love to eavesdrop
just to see how others talk
when they're expecting only to be heard
i still don't believe in hell
not as a destination
hell is some place within me
i dredge through it daily
and not a soul can save me
guess that's why i've never feared god
no
not god
but **** near everyone else
i've got this ******* anxiety
just welling within me
and what's worse
is that no one can see my crazy
no
just me
but it pecks at my brain
and howls at the moon
and consumes my thoughts whole
*i'm afraid of everyone
always*
i'm the most afraid of me
i'm afraid of the things i see in the mirror
i fear for myself
that i'll never really grow up
just more scared
and angry
and bitter
i'm afraid of my heart-rate
climbing higher than your balcony
until it factually breaks
but i somehow know i'll be okay
i feel it more and more each day
because somewhere
in my static-charged skull
and double-time heart
there is at least a little balance
see
i've got something that most people don't
i really only know one thing:
if i ran into the six-year-old version of me
if we passed as strangers on the street
she'd smile
and think that she'd like to grow up to be just like me
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
Moon, sweet moon, what have you done?
I look to you from my rooftop.
Your beauty once again has left me stunned.
You promised to no longer eavesdrop.
I speak to you through lustrous glass
By the window in my bedroom.
Waiting for the time to pass,
Breathing in smells of perfume.
So much happens under you,
So many crimes committed.
Though this fact serves to be true,
There's wrongs which can be righted.
Its getting late, the sun is near.
We must say our goodbyes.
Because of you, I shall not fear
You're my friend that's in the sky.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC