"elbowed" poems
I was on my way to a party
Dressed in heels and a crop top
When I entered the corner store
To purchase some snacks
And on my way to the cashier
A man standing in an aisle
Browsing through peanuts
Glanced up and stopped mid-search
When I clicked past him
And proceeded to uncomfortably stare
I walked into the gas station
Wearing dark wash jeans and a v-neck
With my best friend at 2 AM
When two drunken men stumbled in
And began eyeing us up and smirking
My friend leaned in to me and whispered,
"I'm really scared."
Overhearing her, one man elbowed the other
And with a smile on his face taunted,
"Oh no, we're scaring them."
I was at the laundry mat one night
Wearing shorts and a baggy shirt
When a middle aged man across the room
Kept gawking at me from over the washers
Uneasy, I went outside to smoke
To which he stood at the window
And kept a close eye on me
I called a friend and stayed on the phone
Because I was afraid to go back
And get my clothes alone
I stepped out of my vehicle
In my sweatpants and flipflops
To grab some cigarettes quick
When a white bearded man
Was already at my heels
"Hey, how're you honey?"
I quickly replied, "fine".
And hurried into the store
Without looking back
It seems like every time I leave the house
It doesn't matter what I'm wearing
It could be "provocative" or a burlap sack
I always end up feeling threatened
Heartbeat in my ears
Cold sweat on my back
So don't blame it on my outfit
Don't blame it on my actions
Because I'm not asking for it
I just want to be left alone
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
Just ten minutes was enough
To build up the longing
That would last, and definitely hurt
While I wait for you to return
It was so innocent, so gentle, so pure
Just a simple lean and I knew for sure
I needed, wanted, yearned for more
I wanted to see what life had in store
You asked me a question, just a mischievous thing
But it came out and I started thinking
Turning and looking at your face (I nearly wanted to run)
Elbowed you gently, smiled and said 'this one'
Perhaps one day I would look back
And see that was when it had just begun
Maybe one day I will turn to you and say
You are the one
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
I remember that summer by the lake
How you were surprisingly quiet that day
and nice to everyone which was weird
no sarcastic remarks
or swearing
so unlike you
your wit had died down
if we hadn't known better
we would of said you were distracted
But grateful for the change in your
demeanour
and teaching me to skip stones
If only you had taught me how to place my heart in my palm
and throw that away
instead
You weren't one for smiles
but you didn't like dramatic send offs either
that's why I was surprised when we found your cold body on the floor
bathed in the afternoon sun
In your fathers cabin
by that god forsaken lake
Under that red sky that turned everything the shade of your blood
Cassie slipped and fell and screamed
But I didn't hear her I was too busy focusing on you
willing myself to see a chest rising and falling
but all there was, was static
somewhere beyond Cassies screams
And Luke rushed to somehow clasp your wounds shut
The reflexes of a Doctor's child
But he didn't see that there was no more blood left to flow
and you were blue and cold
but you seemed unburdened of whatever
was eating
you
I remember feeling relief
I stood there
numb
We laughed at your funeral
At the irony of it all
and when your aunt got up and said you were the most
kind, generous young man
we almost died of laughter then
you were the most cold sarcastic S.O.B we ever met
but still loved you
Jake elbowed me and said "What would he do if he was here right now?"
I smiled "He'd jump out that ******* coffin and give his mother a heart attack"
Because it was you after all
You did love dramatic endings
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 7:28 PM UTC
Today the train wasn’t packed
Although moving space, it lacked
Someone got their bag caught in the doors, fact
And a woman elbowed me without much tact.
Luckily the man on the platform always has a smile
Which makes me happy while I wait a while
So I’m not in a bad mood at the end of the mile
That I travel, then queue at the escalator in single file
It is a relief to reach the suddenly cool air
And the breeze calms me as it ripples through my hair
I am then in no need of a jacket as I settle in my chair
And I forget about the cost of my journey’s fare
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
Some days I feel like misshapen clay
A child’s inept attempt at sculpting a shoddy piece of pottery
I crack in the glaze phase never attain proper consistency
Clearly covered in artisan fingerprints that were poorly masked
I live a lifetime as a bowl, barely holding water
Raising as my own planted seeds who grow too big for me
As trees
I occupy a dusty desktop where I am keeper of an arsenal
Of pens
Enveloped in now-dried pigment from early school art class
One day, I am accidentally elbowed off of the kitchen counter
And fall to the floor
Shatter into fragments
Bits and morsels
Chunks and crumbs
Shards of misshapen clay
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 3:28 PM UTC
An awkward angled and elbowed crane
Bowed and tipped his hat to me--
Asked for my number and a date.
I turned my foxy nose up.
My eyebrows arched,
And my friends laughed.
Derision seeped through his lowly form.
Years later, I am shopping after
A hard day of work--
Sweaty, ***** ordinary.
I am buying tampons.
I run into him at the store
Through a mutual friend.
I do not recognize him.
He seems taller--maybe he has learned
Confidence.
His face is tan--acne gone.
He is handsome--muscular.
His clothes fit him well.
No awkward bowing or stooping,
But something in his eyes when
Our friend asks if we've met before,
And I say, "No."
After I walk away, it dawns on me
Like an egg's yolk cracking over my head
And dripping--oozing--down.
And I hope he recognized me too.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
I got elbowed in the stomach
At 9 o'clock tonight
I was working
And the woman
I was working for
Stole the wind
Right out of my lungs
And I bit my tongue
And I swallowed blood
Which tasted like
Rusted metal,
Salt water,
And acidic anger
Burning in my gums
I don't get paid enough
To feel like my ribs are breaking;
Trying so hard not to cry
I'm literally shaking
Well, ****
I have no one to talk to
My best friend called
An hour later
To tell me all about
The party she's going to
With kaylee and alexa;
She's dressing as Crown Royal,
I don't know what that means
And I don't ******* care
She doesn't ask how I am
And I don't tell her
She doesn't really wanna know
And I don't really wanna say it
There's a distance
A fluctuation in her voice
That reaches a place
My ears can't get to
I don't hear her sometimes
When she talks about the things
She loves
And I don't know why
Why I'm so disconnected
From twenty-two
I'm not above it-
I like to think I'm not beneath it-
Maybe just floating somewhere
In the atmosphere that surrounds it
My boyfriend is much prettier
Than anything my hands have ever held
And his voice is softer than
The blanket I bought Kiernan
On her birthday,
The one she doesn't use...
He's really deep
When he's sleepy
He makes no judgement
When I'm angry
He isn't coping
With his condition
Lately
But I've never coped with mine
So who am I to mention
I guess I'm just feeling weak
I'm just feeling kinda hazy
I'm just feeling sorta empty
I'm just feeling
Feeling
A little bit
Too much
Feeling
Maybe
Just not enough
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
Her band was made up of many cool members. Cecil on drums; he wore a cut down decades old Sisters of Mercy t-shirt bought from Jason, old blue jeans and scuffed boots. Jason noticed this and elbowed Craig in the ribs and drunkenly grinned to his mate,
“That’ll do wonders for my business!” On bass was Ronnie. A full-length leather jacket made him look like an undertaker. Underneath he wore nothing but leather hot pants. Boys and girls alike loved this and thought he looked a million dollars. Then there was guitarist Sunny wearing his studded motorbike jacket with the
picture of a speeding snail painted on the back (this was Sandra’s handiwork, she was too busy making love to a random lad she had picked up to notice). Sunny had black leather combat trousers on and massive gothic boots with chrome toecaps that glittered in the
light. Finally there was Snot the keyboard player, he had a plain white t-shirt on and black leather jeans backed up by combat boots.
Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 10:15 PM UTC
yet we creep up silent as shadows
intent on unburdening our weights
heavily they sit on your slumbering brow
seeping into your unsuspecting ears
whispering in no language but our own
and yours
unlocking the doors
you have no way to bolt shut
pleasing ourselves with your displeasure
secure only about
unbalancing what you so carefully stacked
too high at night
scuttling about with our black sacks
full of your empty thought
where bad is thick with luck
try as you might we bid you wait
like ropes dangling freedom to wrath
cutting through swathes of long grass
to find the well beaten paths
abandoned by weak arms
lamely lying limp as sloths
beyond recall in pits of harm
which with a slight push
we slip you down
your bedroom window open
thinking that would keep us away
but our breath is shallow
faces there in an unblinking sway
emerging with more than you know
for you are the fool to be this way
ready to meekly follow
asleep and at our mercy
hahaha hello
we revel in your past
misdemeanours too small
mountains you cannot surpass
weep as many demons as you will
we travel the underpass
shoulders heaving against our pull
tattooed trees
skirts stained from trailing ghouls
yes we sink into listening with you
oblivious to surreal screams
padding ever closer on queue
staging midnight soliloquies
footprints elbowed from view
on the side of your bed sheets
you'd rather not go
yet we whisper no threats
we're only dreams you know
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
there you were
turning a *****
what was i to do
but let it all flow
the night lit with us
and we decided to float
a barge unanchored
no taught tethered rope
you speak of an hourglass
like ******** unkempt
and everything
in the eye
of a needle
ill never complain of seeping pores
id bleed enough for a tribe to see
with elbowed ghosts and semantic ******
ill feed with every chance i get
the night grew dim
when you spoke of an hourglass
ill never complain of seeping pores
for whatever is real
is inherently my refrain
ill never complain of seeping pores
for forever is our refrain
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
Bodies jostle toward the heatsource,
Foot stomp, elbowed in the rib,
Muttering voices hoarse, exhale mists
That swirl like deadmen's ashes in the wind.
Pale lumina saturates the cinder skies,
Under which the aged remember
The suns of former lives,
Their memories the glowing solitary embers
Of a world we've left behind.
Ahead, a mother veils her babe with rags
From a passer-by's ravenous gaze.
A man automatously drags
A rattle-bag of assorted human remains,
Leaving trails in the dirt,
Leaving trails in the dirt.
We have splintered apart the frame
Of this landscape of hellpain,
Against smokestack sequoias and asphalt seas,
We stumble toward the crematoria.
My God, the coldness hurts!
As upon the canvas of this frozen Earth
We enact the terminus of human innovation,
The burning of every breath,
The engineered suicide of civilization.
Out, out, brief candle,
said Macbeth.
Into the cull chamber I step,
Hoping there at least I will find warmth,
In death.
Sep 23, 2020
Sep 23, 2020 at 6:33 PM UTC
In the short ten minutes I'd spent with you,
wrapped in swaddle of cotton blue,
We sat in awe and silent gaze,
and shared one breath through sun lit rays.
We studied a face in contoured flow,
in elbowed cradle and rocking slow,
and recognised a mother's face
through eyes of close and reflected grace.
In mirror'd line drawn of nurtured genes
A wish of three, and genie'd dreams.
You're everything a family needs
in life of eternal love exceeds.
But we wait forlorn for silent cries,
only sadly met with long goodbyes.
A boy perfect, with skin lukewarm
We part on lips of kiss stillborn.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
today
the entire world
was five minutes late for class.
i elbowed,
clawed,
tore my way
through the throng
lay gasping
like a drowning fish
on the doorstep
of psychology class.
you all need to get watches,
*************
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
Mrs Cleves
her husband
long ago
elbowed out
allowed me in
the young guy
the green
at the gills guy
come around
she said
bring a bottle
I'll put on
the Mahler
1st or 2nd
and we can drink
and talk and whatsoever
so when evening came
and work was done
and dinner eaten
I took off
to Mrs Cleves's place
and she welcomed me in
with her usual
soft spoken voice
and Scottish tones
and she poured
the drinks
and put on
the Mahler
on the Hi-Fi
and she talked
about her day
and I talked
about mine
and so Benny
she said
how's it going?
how's the writing?
heard any music
you think
I should hear?
I sipped my drink
(usually Scotch)
and said
well the writings
coming along slow
but I heard
this Delius guy's music
and it kind of
turned me on
I said
Delius?
she said
think I've heard of him
she drained
her glass
and poured
another gin
the Mahler played
in the background
she'd put on
her a tight fitting dress
short above
her knees
she sat
crossed legged
then uncrossed them
then crossed them again
I’ve heard tell
that one
of the young girls
has her eyes
on you
she said
news to me
I said
the student girl
long hair
middle class
Mrs Cleves said
nice ***
I understand
I sipped the drink
the Mahler movement
was slow
emotional
O her
yes she's been
talking to me
I said
given me a book
by Pound
Pound?
Mrs Cleves said
yes
some American poet
I said
why
did she give you
the book?
she asked
don't know
guess she thought
I might like it
no female
gives a man
a book of poems
unless she's
after something
Mrs Cleves said
like the Robert Burns
book you gave me
you mean?
I said smiling
that's different
she said
I drained my glass
and she poured another
leaning over me
her eyes gazing
into mine
how about bed Benny?
she said
the Mahler moved on
to a louder movement
lively
crashing
I drank in
her perfume
her breath breathed
on me
and so we went
to her room
and bed
and undressed
and the Mahler
became far away
like under water
sounding
the curtains drawn
against the night
the moon shining
through the pink
flowered cloth
I didn't tell her
about
the student girl's
fine *** or ***
in case
of her wrath.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
Reminded me of that night:
from the 30th floor of your eyes,
your tears lept, committing suicide.
I shaved my head in the hotel bedroom
while you curled up in the shower.
When I heard the water turn off,
the bathroom lights were off.
I tried to calculate how many bedsheets
I would need to make a noose.
Then I decided you weren't worth it.
Sitting on the floor with you, I
watched your hopes collapse. You blamed
me for what I did, and a little for what
I didn't do. What I did do was hurt you.
I slammed the back of my head into the
wall I was against, you elbowed me hard.
You sobbed and I felt weak and I was. Weak.
I just wanted it to be over, for you to
stop crying, for me to have an explanation
that could wash this mess away.
I'm still trying to piece together exactly
what I really meant to say.
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 11:02 AM UTC
It has been stamped with dispassionate blue ink,
Signifying its future lack of suitability to sit on the shelves,
Having been elbowed aside by this and that year’s thing
(And the book had not been checked out since the mid-seventies,
Perhaps some young man all but short-circuited
By the prospect of a bathing Julie Christie,
Or some female counterpart shedding bell-bottomed tears
Over doomed love, which, in her cosmology,
All such things were fated to be)
Placed in some temporary cardboard casket
Which once held bananas or copier paper or ancient time cards,
Sitting cheek to elbow with cookbooks, breathless biorhythm tomes,
Buffeted about forces unseen and beyond its control
As it faces the uncertain and uneasy prospect of possible reclamation.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
Once upon a September night,
When breaths were taking flight,
To the upper parts of the atmosphere,
Where the fellow stars shine bright.
A soul was looming around a room,
Wishing the navy sky would turn blue,
Losing hope for a while there,
Till a newborn sun came into view.
The soul then elbowed the eyes,
To take in this overwhelming sight,
Ray by ray the world awakened,
She'd then wait for dawn every night.
Sweat breaks and distraction ends,
The sun counting the time she's spent,
As orange pastels start to melt,
Soul watched sadly where she went.
And everyday the cycle was repeated,
A soul waits, watches as a day fleets,
Her sad sighs the only acquaintance
She's made with the moon beam.
After every sunset comes a phase
When soul and heart start to pace,
Whispering their heavy troubles,
To the dim moon's lonely face.
Acquaintances became stronger bonds,
As more blues started ranging on,
The night spread like a blanket,
The moon always had a soothing song.
Yet the soul remained captivated,
Sunrises and sunsets always awaited,
Till hellos are farewell were exchanged,
She spent the rest of the night sated.
She preferred a glow intense and warm,
Never grateful for the moon's arms,
A moon that forever stayed,
As the sun's always come and gone.
Hidden behind a treacherous day,
Never welcomed nor awaited,
No moon-rise nor moon-set,
Taken for granted cause he always stays.
Soul never knew the truth,
She'd diffuse all her sorrow to the moon,
He'd always shine never dimming,
Did the departing sun ever listen to you?
So why are we so mesmerized by the sun,
When the moon's always been the loyal one.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC