"evie" poems
Awe Evie you came here fighting. Pulling the oxygen out of your nose. Trying to get out of the incubator you were not having it little girl. You are such a doll baby with a beautiful face. I love your orange hair I can't wait to see what color it will turn out to be. You are named after me Ms. Evieana Lillian. I'm named after my grandmother which makes you the third. My grandmother had red hair she was biracial just like you. So it's so cute that you have her name orange hair and spunky attitude. I thank you for being strong enough to fight. Wonderful enough to love and a small bundle enough to hug and kiss on. You are my Lilly boo and I thank Jehovah that I got the chance to meet you❤.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
Hi . . . This is about the kinds of people who work in corporate big money office buildings . . . Imagine them at lunchtime, how they interact and picture the scene in any . . .
Busy little bistro
Sharp - sharks - circle - the - pack
Pinstripe finned and eager
Snapping their snacks back with ease
Points to prove with nothing to lose
No cracks in their creases
They're keen to return to the fray.
These boys play with girls
Aren't yet uncles with nieces
Just unproven throwaway pieces . . .
In shiny . eat ***** . suited up . Chelsea boots
Bidding for ***** with cute looks and loot
Touting with confident ***** . . .
As mobile as their smart devices
Loose
Next . . . ?
And fresh from a mornings abuse
And fifteen years of fear . .
Beleaguered older shirts sit . .
Flogged dogs with weak barks
Parked packed into packs.
Tongue tied ties tied together
Safety is numbers
Get each others backs
These partially satisfied cats
Know today is NOT their day . .
That was yesterday . . .
Obliging lives and mortgages
The reasons why they stay
Passing Cabs cruise . . .
Seen it all before.
Sat in the back a high class *****
Glazed eyes glancing away
From her play-away payday
Nibbles in the boardroom . .
Napkins . . for the dribbles
A working lunch for this Girl
Her money-shot a wrap without applause
Was just a . . . pause . . . between paws . .
Then Dora on reception
John, who minds the door
Evie in the IT room
Or dave . . who buffs the Marble
Sparkles glinting in the floor . .
And the guards . . who guard . . what exactly . . ?
All of this . . ? Networking . . !!!
Everybody's selling something
It doesn't quite stink
But it definitely smells
A little high
As time whiles by
Seems this
Is the state of our nation
And in this state
Defines our aspirations
And yes . . this state's a splinter
Taunting my imagination . . .
Do I stake my place within this game
Or sit in observation
Commentating on a race
Where human nature fakes it's place
Where people sit as players
Yet no one wears their own face
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
During the Depression little Evie
sewed dolls from Granny's quilt scraps.
World War II knew her as Evelyn.
Builder of planes, defender of freedom.
Cousin Bobby called her Auntie,
He moved in with us when he was 12.
44 years of first graders adored Mrs. Bennett,
who read them stories with love and expression.
She was Dad's one and only Sugar.
Now,
one breath later,
she is
the deceased
the body
the cadaver
the remains
Nothing more.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
The poem formerly known as 'First taste of bitter' has been rewritten to reflect the lovely people who inhabit this etheral poetic wonderland that is home to many and a refuge to many - inspired by HP's own Elsa
- thank you Elsa :))
My first taste of HP
I was welcomed right away
Day one I had three friends
Peter Hamilton, Cecil and Ana
Is where my HP journey began
From another site I'd arrived
Not seeking fortunes or fame
Just a place to share poems
With people who feel the same
I've always been so welcome here
~ always made to feel at home
Thats down to the friendly poets
Who you all are, you know.
So many, many friendly souls
My, how that list has grown
Thank you HP - I glad I came...
I no longer feel alone
Special thank also to - Poetessa Diabolica, Niamh, Coleen, Shanna, Wolf, Brandon, Evie, ridicule, Beryl Dov, Donna and Sleeping Bag. Much love to everyone who knows me. X
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Days of ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ashes ashes
We all fall down.
Days of bluebells
Cockleshells,
Evie ivy over.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
But we all know that it ended badly.
Wasn't it great
When we didn't know the history
Behind our childhood?
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC
I left my clothes at your house,
You left your drinks at mine
Oh and I wish you were here
Forty-five, now it's ten-o-nine
My ribs let go with you laying there
I catch every sigh
'Cause I listen with my eyes
We both feel a shift,
And ask the right thing
At the very right time
That's why
You know what I mean,
That's why
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
Love seen through your eyes, I sit and believe your lies
Lies for sure I know, but I never let it show
I gave you my all, and you let me fall
Your telling me to be free, but I don’t want to be
All I do is try, I may as well die
Deep within or not so far down, I think I deserve a crown
For all ive faced, and that time I misplaced
They think I have it easy, but they don’t know about evie
My little girl I brought to life, before I was a wife
Letting her go was hard, I put up a guard
All the things my little girl would’ve seen, all she could’ve been
My poor evie rose, imagine her toes
The things id do for just one hold, before I grow to old
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Well met by moonlight we, like painted birds
Wing through the winking dark. In the half-light
Of looming streetlamps, and a bond, cast new.
Birds of a feather we, skipping in our
High heeled boots, songs dripping from our ginned tongues.
Fledglings; two young things painting the sky, and
It bends around us. Together we fly.
Since that first blue night of scrabbling through the
Waning light, you’ve been a strong branch, an
Essential part of my wavering nest.
All I have is gratitude, lay it at
Your feet. A hand to hold your spirit up.
My preening blackbird, you will always be
A poem-tongued and twilit queen to me.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
Hey guys!
I know you don't really care but today's my birthday!!!
I'm 13 now,not 12.
Thank you guys,it's been a good year,I couldn't have made it with oh you guys.
:-D thanks a Millon!
The freakin 13 year old,
-Evie Camille Wills
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
It could have been just like any other day.
Sad, at times, numb at others.
Instead, any hope of making sense
Just walked out that door behind you.
Today is two years ago,
Sitting on the end of my dorm bed
Today is you standing in front of me,
Just got back from a party.
The lamp is on behind you,
And you're smiling down at me,
Glowing.
Today is you looking me in the eyes,
Then looking away to ask,
"Hey Evie, are you my girlfriend?"
Today is my reply,
"I don't know. Do you want me to be?"
Today it makes sense
Because your answer isn't "yes" anymore
And my reply isn't "okay, then yes, I'm your girlfriend."
Somewhere that changed forever.
Somewhere I lost, and fate laughed, and you left
And it's all over.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
It's like some well-kept secret...
Shhhhh, don't tell Evie!
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
Love seen through your eyes, I sit and believe your lies
Lies for sure I know, but I never let it show
I gave you my all, and you let me fall
Your telling me to be free, but I don’t want to be
All I do is try, I may as well die
Deep within or not so far down, I think I deserve a crown
For all ive faced, and that time I misplaced
They think I have it easy, but they don’t know about evie
My little girl I brought to life, before I was a wife
Letting her go was hard, I put up a guard
All the things my little girl would’ve seen, all she could’ve been
My poor evie rose, imagine her toes
The things id do for just one hold, before I grow to old
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
She comes to me, with eager tread, desiring my return.
The old routine, each day evolves, that both of us must learn.
Atop the post she deftly lands and murmurs fond affection.
I marvel at her agile grace, her clean, precise perfection.
She offers me unerring trust, lays curled around my shoulder.
Each day it grows, the mutual bond, I find her ever bolder.
My hand enveloped in soft, warm fur, content she is secure.
The boundaries of possession lost, does she belong to me or I to her?
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 1:20 PM UTC