"gatsby" poems
You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
On her own.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I remember the first time I watched the great Gatsby.
Your legs propped on my own,
Sailing in the land of happy dreams
You slept.
While I watched the most heartbreaking movie of the 2014.
You never realised how much that movie meant.
Never conceived how much
Words and acts could drive a person
It was at that moment
As I watched Gatsby fall
His dreams shattered and his heart ruined
That I was hit with the reality.
Last nights drunken actions were more
Than just movements or simple words.
To me atleast
It all meant more
Deep down inside
Than you could ever have understood.
And though you hardly ever mentioned
The ongoings of that particular night,
It stayed with me.
And as Mr. Carraway spoke
Those last tantalising words of love,
I promised myself.
One day I shall tell you.
One day I shall have the courage Daisy never did.
To admit once and for all,
To the universe that I love you.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
Her nervous laugh
is the ***** of a champagne glass
he does not care she has no brains
he worries about his tie
asks her to confess
she never loved Tom
showing off his wealth
built on the sand grains
of dodgy business & deceit
& brick of bravado
a siren, she has called his heart
to sail to her across the years
all to end in a gunshot
by a pool
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Starbucks for the beach sleeper,
cigarettes for the cruise ship worker,
around the world a further three times more
with a six-a-day job, one on shore.
She smiled with Gatsby glare.
She smiled with fair, tied back hair.
She smiled.
And how her love for Poe and Wilde
found its way to my ear a mere three year veer
around time itself.
Turkish delight is not a food nor a sweet
but a lady who gives a discreet smile to those she meets.
My cafe in my street has you across from me
and the books I read have you printed in an uppercase key,
black on the white and bound by the spine
for you are the cruise ship lady, the lover of mine.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
It still smells like human iron in your pool.
There's a crack in the concrete where the bullet stopped.
It still smells like human iron by the side of your pool, there's a stain.
I still can't find where that bullet went.
I always thought that your "love" of the higher life was overrated.
Nobody ever talked about how great it is to be rich as much as you did.
Even though you talked about it so quietly, most of the time.
You spoke a lot about Daisies.
I'm more of a Lillie type of person.
There are a lot of people in New York, Gatsby. Too many people in New York.
New York only needed you, Gatsby, but it looks like New York didn't want you anymore.
That's not sad though, is it?
Carraway's book is like gold. I bookmarked eight of my favorite pages in it with yellow cigarettes. I'm too afraid to smoke them.
When your old mansion was bought I expected to see you as a ghost in it,
you weren't there.
That green light across the bay isn't there anymore, it's red now.
I believe I'm sleeping in the same bedroom you once did.
You aren't one of those ghosts that haunt a house, you haunt a human concept of want.
I wish I'd never bought your house.
I'm going to tear this place down. Along with Nick's old place next door.
The memories here in these empty, furniture filled rooms, are unbearable at best.
Of course they're not my memories, but I'd be a familiar person to you if you knew me.
I smash and break things, and then retreat back into my money and vast carelessness.
Farewell Jay Gatsby.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Maybe I don't want to be Gatsby anymore.
What if Daisy stood beside the green light and stared back for a while?
Maybe then Gatsby wouldn't have died alone.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
like Gatsby
no longer happy
hosting a party I know longer enjoy
all I have wanted
and now I want nothing
so like Gatsby
I revoke my R.S.V.P
I leave my party
I go
I leave
I die
nothing like Gatsby
just happy
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
Hey, Ole Sport. Nice to see your face again.
Life and love! Isn't it wonderful!? Strange too
I suppose. But you're still here.. Why? The ones
Who loved me the most, Daisy.. the ones from my
Parties. They left.. But not you.
Did you not love me? Or is it something else?
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
I have longed for this year since fourth grade
When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was
And realized I wanted to be one.
I have longed for this year since I was fifteen
And wanted to leave home
Go out and explore the bigger world
Free of parents and noisy siblings.
I have longed for this year since my first college tour
And I saw the hubbub
The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts
And noticed how small and quiet my high school was.
We picked out caps and gowns
Red
We lead the pep rallies now
The loudest yet
We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs
Feeling scholarly
We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas
First M. Last
We have our licenses
Drive to school
We fill out college applications endlessly
And endlessly...
We picked our prom theme
Great Gatsby
We're getting lazy very quickly
Senioritis
Graduation keeps us going
Graduation is the goal
Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel
Graduation in June
Graduation in red polyester
Graduation in the sun
Graduation is the end
But wait.
Hold up.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP!
Seven more months with you?
You, who I've stared at for four years?
You, whose smiles make my day?
You, whose face I look for in crowds?
You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met?
You, who I haven't even asked out?
You, who have no idea who I feel?
You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way?
You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life?
You?
Seven. Months.?
HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Tossing and turning, sleep evades me
The thought of her pure dress
As I sip my warm white tea
My love becomes less and less
My eyes shall not close
To be filled with desires which are false
Dreams that make me smile
Fall into a deep trial
I desire hate
This love is a curse
To want a ***** as a mate
Wealth filled purse
I give everything
I want something
Phone in hand dialing Nick Caraway
I love you is what I say
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Gatsby, Gatsby, oh you protagonist young man;
To work for a millionaire and be a soldier.
To do criminal activity just for a single girl
Who once did love you but never will again.
With all your fabulous wealth and fame;
In that mansion you live in filled with Goth
Having lavishing parties on late Saturday nights;
Not to mingle but to look, to look for her.
Living in the West Egg with a distant view
Of a lake in front to separate you and your love.
Only a light of green to comfort your loneliness;
With a friend as your only connection to them.
You are the mysterious type of man that you are.
A person whom no one knows where he is from,
What he does in life or how he makes his fortune.
But in reality you are from a farm in North Dakota.
You are also a flawed, dishonest, and ****** man;
Lie about your past and the name that people know.
Left your farm life at age 17 to change who you were;
Forgot your name as Jimmy Gatz to become Jay Gatsby.
Jay Gatsby, Jimmy Gatz, you did this for your love;
For the love you had for Miss Daisy Buchanan, for her.
As a man, you were known to be extraordinary optimism;
For you were determine to take your dream and make it a reality.
The dream that you had of only you and her.
A dream that was too far from reality;
So far that it blinded you from true reality.
This dream is what brought death upon you.
For Jay Gatsby and Jimmy Gatz are one and the same.
Both blinded by love for Miss Daisy Buchanan.
Both determine to change their social status
Both dreamt a dream that would not come true.
But yet both denied the truth of themselves.
For this brought the death and the heartache
Of a father who knew so little of his only son.
For a friend who truly knew nothing of him at all.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
Gatsby was in love;
completely infatuated
with another being
The way he looked at her
with his anxious eyes
exhibited a love that couldn't be greater
And
the words he spoke
emitted such fondness
for her rosy lips against his
as he whispered sweet stories
that he irresistibly imagined
of their future together
he fell so in love--
he fell so tragically and desperately
in l o v e--
he lost himself completely
and became absent
in his own consciousness
trusting false hopes,
refusing to let go of what would
never be his
and if this insanity is what they call
true love--
if this is what one experiences
when such passion takes over--
then I, too
have gone Gatsby for you.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
we smoked our cigarettes
and belted out car duets
never listened to any advice
figured trial and error would suffice
we ate past when we were full
and felt life's strange alluring pull
but we learned it was never enough
to sit back and relax and love
you can't repeat the past, Gatsby
I wish someone would have told me
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Be good to yourself!
So says the neon sign
Hanging above the pizza shop.
For some reason it means
Something
To me.
I'm not sure what,
Or why.
But it is to me what the green light was to gatsby.
Or sweaters were to Cosby.
I loved that sign
Even after it switched off for the last time.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
I'm going to marry a writer.
How could I not?
She won't be Holden Caulfield because I'm too much of a phony.
She won't be Gatsby because I'll never be a Daisy.
She won't be the moon because I'll never shine as bright as the sun.
I won't be Caulfield, but she won't be a phony.
I won't be Gatsby, but I'll fall madly in love with her.
I won't be the moon, but she'll shine brighter then the sun.
We'll drink too much coffee, smoke too many cigarettes, stay up to late.
We'll wear sweaters and carve pumpkins and listen to Tigers Jaw.
We'll read books and we'll write poetry and we'll live our lives.
with each other forever.
We will live happily
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
vintage polaroids
mountain air
girl scout cookies
summer hair
ed sheeran lyrics
mint lemonade
blowing bubbles
christmas parade
harry potter
winter park crew
biscoff spread
morning dew
british accents
plaid shirts
old castles
chocolate desserts
breakfast for dinner
big bang theory quotes
shakespearean language
cape cod sailboats
sweet nostalgia
the smell of books
longing wanderlust
forest nook
80s movies
neon lights
time with friends
caramel delights
the great gatsby
walk the moon
old typewriters
plumerias bloom
bombay bicycle club
chinese cuisine
abstract art
seafoam green
vineyard vines
life of pi
scuba diving
monarch butterfly
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
"shall we?" Jay Gatsby uttered.
we took each step
cautiously,
as if we were
treading carefully
on each other's
soul.
and it made me a little sad,
that I could never be his
anymore.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
As I reach for you
time and time again,
you surprise me
with just how
perfect you are.
You're the fleeting
dream in which
I cannot grasp.
You're so close
yet so far away.
And as you blind
my vision, I
don't realize the
damage you inflict
upon me.
And as I leave
the others to
sail by themselves,
your green light
is all I see,
your expensive voice
is all I hear,
your soft lips
are all I taste,
your short-lived love
is all I feel.
As a piercing pain and
a diluted red envelop me,
I reach out to what
I desperately believe in.
And as I sail
to the end of
the world, I
forget my fellow
yet poetic sailor.
Never knowing
the pain I cause
my poor old sport.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
I need to stop romanticizing the past.
I'm walking backwards instead of forwards.
Your name still comes to me in the night
and clings to my sheets like you did once long ago.
But if Gatsby had let go of the green light
he would have lived.
I want to live.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
What once is now was
My feet tread delicately over egg shells
Balance on unsturdy tightropes
My body's equilibrium thrown off
My legs shake like an earthquake of emotion
From outer to inner core, I see
A slimmer of green light, my american dream
I am the Great Gatsby
Holding onto a bit of the past
Desiring it to become the present
To the future of mine
Yet with soft words
I am met with inevitable flames of anger
A rage so powerful, so dangerous
So provoking, prodding me like a cow
The man I was born from
Whom is supposed to defend me
Is one that destroys me
His words conform, turning into a wrecking ball
Slam into my heart, destroying it
Pieces fall down like pebbles tip, tipping against a lover's window
Except it taps the windows of Satan
Awakening unknown, terrifying horrors
As bottles clink, can crash, alcohol splatters
So does the confidence I once had
mbm
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Watching the traffic light turn from green to yellow to red...all from bed.
Thoughts of Jay Gatsby fill my head
Alone in bed, I wonder how he must have felt
Seeing that green light
Reminded of Daisy, his love.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
Today,
I wake with a fire,
burning through the gallows in this heart of mine,
searing the cavity within, and thus
churning the blood into a vile silver mercury,
throbbing through the aorta, veins, and
into the legs, arms, hands
and finally the mind,
into a madness
--and in madness a confession--
I yearn.
I yearn, so much and so much more,
than just a gaze,
than just a kind greeting,
than an accidental touch.
But I am
a beast and no more, eating, sleeping and watching,
as be it societal acceptance,
a self resistant machine,
that renders me a master of
the art of acting indifferent at your gaze.
Blame me not, my love, for this act is to ward off
the seductive aphrodisiac of which vibrant colors glows in ecstasy,
(being anything but)
in which I believe love to be.
So leave it at that, and nothing more,
thoughts of unrequited love
and thoughts never to become actions.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 1:16 AM UTC
You say you’re a ‘boss’, does that mean that I’m God, next,
Time you mess with me you’ll see I have a God complex,
Whatever, I mean this rap’s getting complex,
My effects, they perplex, my ego’s getting convex,
I could say that I’m strawberries but I’m much more like lime,
Acrid, like acid, I rhyme, I’ll keep my clothes on that’s fine,
Your sexisms pasts it’s prime, Gatsby’s acts aren’t fine,
Calling me out is a crime since you’re completely irrelevant,
The orders are mine, YOU strip but you best make it elegant,
I can take off my clothes for fun and still be ******* intelligent,
Dodging your blows, fo’ sho, street talk but still make it eloquent,
I might be teeth, **** toes but lets make one thing clear,
The only head you’ll be getting is off the top of your beer.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
On Monday I didn't go to school
because you wanted to take me out instead
We walked around the park downtown all afternoon
finally we perched ourselves in the gazebo
immersing ourselves in each other's thoughts
and wading in traded words.
My attention was shattered when a
lady bug landed on my knee. I was baffled-
I exclaimed that it's orange. You laughed and I
coaxed it onto my finger. And you told me
"Some of them are green you know"
I didn't know. I said "maybe those ones just aren't ripe yet"
I played with the bug for a few more seconds
until I felt your gaze, and I lifted my emerald greens
to your cup-of-coffee mahognies. You were looking at me
the way I imagined Gatsby must have looked at Daisy.
And you smiled a little too wide
for the stupid thing I had just said. You touched my chin
and kissed me gently, and i could feel your lips
still frozen in a grin.
But when I looked back down my coveted orange lady bug
had flown away-
and left no trace that he ever came.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC