"gre" poems - Hello Poetry

I quite like the virginity of a fresh notebook the way my wrists and palms drag across its leaves breathing life between lines in pink magic marker or the severity of red ballpoint I like the prickly practical meticulousness of a shopping list: a dozen eggs one pineapple one bag of fresh spinach one bag of English muffins one bottle of dish soap I like the tender impressions of curlie cues and firty cursive communicating endearments placed on counters such as: TAKE OUT THE RECYCLING YOU LAZY OAF ******* <3 XOXOXO <3 I enjoy the audacity of a wandering doodle meandering cartwheeling hopskotching between and under and over indices and spaces between shopping lists and death threats i enjoy the lingering ghost of prose shaped caverns carved onto seemingly empty sheets that carry on for pages until they fade like whispers into an evanescence I crave the obnoxiousness absurdity of a to do list daring me to take a day off from procrastination until tomorrow call Gramma rent due on the first of the muuuuuuuunth take the GRE update resume be awesome. like a boss. most of all I love the pain and joy of a poem the way it slowly leaks from heart to mind to hand to paper staining spaces urgently faster than muses whispers barely escaping onto lines prolific terrific poetry sporadic spacious atrocious poetry I croon over the denial of the last page of a beat up notebook the way the paper hangs onto spirals haggard littered with stringy remnants of lists and reminders and death threats and poems and goodbyes

0

Dec 5, 2012

Dec 5, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC

curlie-fries-mcgee

Notebooks

I quite like the virginity of a fresh notebook the way my wrists and palms drag across its leaves breathing life between lines in pink magic marker or the severity of red ballpoint I like the prickly practical meticulousness of a shopping list: a dozen eggs one pineapple one bag of fresh spinach one bag of English muffins one bottle of dish soap I like the tender impressions of curlie cues and firty cursive communicating endearments placed on counters such as: TAKE OUT THE RECYCLING YOU LAZY OAF ******* <3 XOXOXO <3 I enjoy the audacity of a wandering doodle meandering cartwheeling hopskotching between and under and over indices and spaces between shopping lists and death threats i enjoy the lingering ghost of prose shaped caverns carved onto seemingly empty sheets that carry on for pages until they fade like whispers into an evanescence I crave the obnoxiousness absurdity of a to do list daring me to take a day off from procrastination until tomorrow call Gramma rent due on the first of the muuuuuuuunth take the GRE update resume be awesome. like a boss. most of all I love the pain and joy of a poem the way it slowly leaks from heart to mind to hand to paper staining spaces urgently faster than muses whispers barely escaping onto lines prolific terrific poetry sporadic spacious atrocious poetry I croon over the denial of the last page of a beat up notebook the way the paper hangs onto spirals haggard littered with stringy remnants of lists and reminders and death threats and poems and goodbyes

45

Excuses? I've got tons of them. I have an average GPA, an average GRE score, and an average g . Yet I'll spend hours with a friend listening to her problems with her boyfriends alcoholic dad, or the roommate who's mom had cancer, or ill spend hours grocery shopping with a person I rarely get to see but that time means more to me than any amount of time spent with my nose in a book. Average ? Sure that's average- spending life doing what you love with the people you love. That's average. Or that's my excuse not to study. Ill let you be the judge. Ill spend hours on a Saturday driving home to pick up two cousins that have cracked out parents just to buy them rain boots for school. Average rain boots on an average Saturday. Another excuse not to study or have my nose in a book. Or the two internships and 2 jobs I hold because I find it more interesting to know people through their mannerisms and the nervous habits they pick up when they know they have a busy day ahead. You know the scrunch in their nose when they get an anxious feeling?Or the slight tap their right foot makes to distract rhemselves from their busy thoughts as they make coffee at 8 AM. No book nor research paper can show me that. Or maybe that's my excuse not to study. My average excuse not to study. You've never witnessed that? too busy with life right ? excuaes. Or what about the afternoons I come home with the honest intent to get ahead outlining my notes but my sister calls to explain her distraught news of troubles with paying bills and finding a job. Again the outline becomes less important. But maybe that's my excuse. I'll always have an excuse, but I always get the work done. As long as your okay with it being average. My grades, my score, my g maybe average. But the life I devote to others is anything but. And so if my excuse of being average and okay with that is just an excuse than so be it. But at 21 I understand that relationships and people can not be average. My scores can be average, but no impact or influence can ever be average. If that's the job I want, than I'm not sure how could ever be denied for being average. Yet maybe this is just my excuse, my excuse to work harder alongside people than any statistic or fact combined. Average excuses ? I'm full of them. But people are what I'm good at, it's people that bring me above average. All excuses aside, when it comes to people I've never had an excuse to drop everything. And so I always drop everything. For the people.

0

Jun 19, 2014

Jun 19, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC

alexandra-12

Just your average

Excuses? I've got tons of them. I have an average GPA, an average GRE score, and an average g . Yet I'll spend hours with a friend listening to her problems with her boyfriends alcoholic dad, or the roommate who's mom had cancer, or ill spend hours grocery shopping with a person I rarely get to see but that time means more to me than any amount of time spent with my nose in a book. Average ? Sure that's average- spending life doing what you love with the people you love. That's average. Or that's my excuse not to study. Ill let you be the judge. Ill spend hours on a Saturday driving home to pick up two cousins that have cracked out parents just to buy them rain boots for school. Average rain boots on an average Saturday. Another excuse not to study or have my nose in a book. Or the two internships and 2 jobs I hold because I find it more interesting to know people through their mannerisms and the nervous habits they pick up when they know they have a busy day ahead. You know the scrunch in their nose when they get an anxious feeling?Or the slight tap their right foot makes to distract rhemselves from their busy thoughts as they make coffee at 8 AM. No book nor research paper can show me that. Or maybe that's my excuse not to study. My average excuse not to study. You've never witnessed that? too busy with life right ? excuaes. Or what about the afternoons I come home with the honest intent to get ahead outlining my notes but my sister calls to explain her distraught news of troubles with paying bills and finding a job. Again the outline becomes less important. But maybe that's my excuse. I'll always have an excuse, but I always get the work done. As long as your okay with it being average. My grades, my score, my g maybe average. But the life I devote to others is anything but. And so if my excuse of being average and okay with that is just an excuse than so be it. But at 21 I understand that relationships and people can not be average. My scores can be average, but no impact or influence can ever be average. If that's the job I want, than I'm not sure how could ever be denied for being average. Yet maybe this is just my excuse, my excuse to work harder alongside people than any statistic or fact combined. Average excuses ? I'm full of them. But people are what I'm good at, it's people that bring me above average. All excuses aside, when it comes to people I've never had an excuse to drop everything. And so I always drop everything. For the people.

1

ale czysto w tej E - U - Ρ - Ω - Π - J - Η. islam leiben historie, nicht Ottoman, Ottoman pseudo Khan, islam leiben historie: eins, zwei, drei und vierte maulkor'bzeugè'naussagé (sausage marathon); they love their history mind you ψι and τρι... kaganiec u stóp w krok stu odpowiedzi w jedną droge: raz jeszcze, w las i w cienie iglą tej tętnicy wybryk chęć na gre, by zadać zbyteczne pytanie! na odpowiedź oskarzyć czas z wiedzą zegara, i tą ostateczną, wartą końca, namylsnością... ponownie oskarzyć jako począt narodu - tylko golasa, warte imie kroka ka ka kar Kasymir'ah! wedle Tsara, czołem w tło wymagań na wyryte zapomnieniem lat: oddech'u Uzbeku chafta wspomnień wiatru i chorongiew latawcy jak niby urojen konceptu narodu... ja człek tylko w psiarni! i tak powiem, tak, wiara, panem na zbyt wiele pamięci Janosika i Radio Maria; o tyle czerpie zgon, ponownie, ponownie, by ocalić, niby swiętego, i pogrzebać swój naród... ale wstyd! wstyd! by ocalić jednego niby swiętego, lecz nadać obszar rodem Polak'a ponad Polske i w ramach Irlandie; jaki to wstyd nawet ten mnie wart, co nie nada snu! co za wstyd - nie warto umierać wiele razy, kiedy ten ostatecny oznacza raz jeszcze - quo vadis, qua lectio? - ten raz jeszcze, i ten ostatni, o tyle wiele poradni przed wieloma nocami snu.

0

Jun 7, 2016

Jun 7, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

maulkorb hund (forgotten Europe)

ale czysto w tej E - U - Ρ - Ω - Π - J - Η. islam leiben historie, nicht Ottoman, Ottoman pseudo Khan, islam leiben historie: eins, zwei, drei und vierte maulkor'bzeugè'naussagé (sausage marathon); they love their history mind you ψι and τρι... kaganiec u stóp w krok stu odpowiedzi w jedną droge: raz jeszcze, w las i w cienie iglą tej tętnicy wybryk chęć na gre, by zadać zbyteczne pytanie! na odpowiedź oskarzyć czas z wiedzą zegara, i tą ostateczną, wartą końca, namylsnością... ponownie oskarzyć jako począt narodu - tylko golasa, warte imie kroka ka ka kar Kasymir'ah! wedle Tsara, czołem w tło wymagań na wyryte zapomnieniem lat: oddech'u Uzbeku chafta wspomnień wiatru i chorongiew latawcy jak niby urojen konceptu narodu... ja człek tylko w psiarni! i tak powiem, tak, wiara, panem na zbyt wiele pamięci Janosika i Radio Maria; o tyle czerpie zgon, ponownie, ponownie, by ocalić, niby swiętego, i pogrzebać swój naród... ale wstyd! wstyd! by ocalić jednego niby swiętego, lecz nadać obszar rodem Polak'a ponad Polske i w ramach Irlandie; jaki to wstyd nawet ten mnie wart, co nie nada snu! co za wstyd - nie warto umierać wiele razy, kiedy ten ostatecny oznacza raz jeszcze - quo vadis, qua lectio? - ten raz jeszcze, i ten ostatni, o tyle wiele poradni przed wieloma nocami snu.

31

You-- th-- at-- im-- elapse-- destoryin-- gre-- worms through loam fidgeting crisply of fingers death an inch of living crawled the pairing chilled livid night (to the moon) unstoppin --g whispers whispers whispers whispers

0

Jan 13, 2013

Jan 13, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC

patrick-wakefield-1

Untitled

You-- th-- at-- im-- elapse-- destoryin-- gre-- worms through loam fidgeting crisply of fingers death an inch of living crawled the pairing chilled livid night (to the moon) unstoppin --g whispers whispers whispers whispers

18

i o nim iskrą w rrdze, w gre na tło innych narodziń - i nim o iskre: krzemień o krzemień - i kość o kość - nauka kaligrafii... jak i ten co o męke łuku ziemi w dary oddać pierw chciał nic, a potem proch - o potem kichnąć w sto braci leczy naród prośbą! też jak ja, obudzić ozór! **** powiadomił... niechaj ten ozór - horongiew nasza - akcentów ilości sie zajada, bo tyle umie - i tyle wyzna - jak i słowem sie zachwyci: po rosaj i po germańsku - na weekend - i tym tam, na czeł Mongoła: zapomnień, i zapomniawszy: zwany Lach, hujem przez sukiennice i kreski sławnych tabu ilokroci - i ta bida... stokroci. siała baba mak... ni widziała jak... chlop... chlop... chlop... siała baba mak, ni widiała jak... bo tu kurvasiet chłop! chłop! kak duszy Khrushchev? ni pomogje! naz gu! niet harasho! niet! haraшo? Las Vegas etя: Lon-don, Pa-ri-ri Piri Piri Mex hey ** i co. - etc. ******* ****** Bahamas **** cult яя.

0

Sep 21, 2016

Sep 21, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

na szlachte, pan powiódł szatana!

i o nim iskrą w rrdze, w gre na tło innych narodziń - i nim o iskre: krzemień o krzemień - i kość o kość - nauka kaligrafii... jak i ten co o męke łuku ziemi w dary oddać pierw chciał nic, a potem proch - o potem kichnąć w sto braci leczy naród prośbą! też jak ja, obudzić ozór! **** powiadomił... niechaj ten ozór - horongiew nasza - akcentów ilości sie zajada, bo tyle umie - i tyle wyzna - jak i słowem sie zachwyci: po rosaj i po germańsku - na weekend - i tym tam, na czeł Mongoła: zapomnień, i zapomniawszy: zwany Lach, hujem przez sukiennice i kreski sławnych tabu ilokroci - i ta bida... stokroci. siała baba mak... ni widziała jak... chlop... chlop... chlop... siała baba mak, ni widiała jak... bo tu kurvasiet chłop! chłop! kak duszy Khrushchev? ni pomogje! naz gu! niet harasho! niet! haraшo? Las Vegas etя: Lon-don, Pa-ri-ri Piri Piri Mex hey ** i co. - etc. ******* ****** Bahamas **** cult яя.

33

doorbell, 2a.m., she stands there in the cold. wrapped in a dark grey jacket, and pain and a dying hope. he opens up, lets her in. the fire's warmth feels cold. she starts crying knowing he'll never love her again if he knew. if he knew her darkest secrets kept vaulted from the world; all the things that she's ashamed of that incarcerate her soul. if he knew she knew she was wrong, yet in weakness carried on, how could he love her still? where would that love come from? but he opens her heart like a letter, and reads it inside out. then, in silent darkness holds her, until no more tears streak down. "i've loved you from the beginning," he says, and lifts a ***** silver plate. he wipes it with his white t-shirt, and with it clean, she sees her face. "i love everything about you amidst the mistakes you made and now i know all that you've done i love you more, i do," he says. "i'll wipe all your ***** silver plates; all the heartbreaks and the shame." she smiles now, she understands: she's white as snow, she's not the same. he sees her to the door now, as the midnight snow falls down. he's wiped the darkness off her; she knows where love comes from. the snow does not feel cold now; the cold was from her soul. "go now," he says, "and when you fall, you can always come back home." -c.t.

0

Mar 16, 2015

Mar 16, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC

keepsmiling18

White As Snow

doorbell, 2a.m., she stands there in the cold. wrapped in a dark grey jacket, and pain and a dying hope. he opens up, lets her in. the fire's warmth feels cold. she starts crying knowing he'll never love her again if he knew. if he knew her darkest secrets kept vaulted from the world; all the things that she's ashamed of that incarcerate her soul. if he knew she knew she was wrong, yet in weakness carried on, how could he love her still? where would that love come from? but he opens her heart like a letter, and reads it inside out. then, in silent darkness holds her, until no more tears streak down. "i've loved you from the beginning," he says, and lifts a ***** silver plate. he wipes it with his white t-shirt, and with it clean, she sees her face. "i love everything about you amidst the mistakes you made and now i know all that you've done i love you more, i do," he says. "i'll wipe all your ***** silver plates; all the heartbreaks and the shame." she smiles now, she understands: she's white as snow, she's not the same. he sees her to the door now, as the midnight snow falls down. he's wiped the darkness off her; she knows where love comes from. the snow does not feel cold now; the cold was from her soul. "go now," he says, "and when you fall, you can always come back home." -c.t.

43

• One of the grea- test wonders, You will ever see, Is a leaf falling while L o o k i ng so a l i v e, W h e r e the o n l y re a s o n they d i e on that ground, I s **T I M** E

0

Jul 3, 2017

Jul 3, 2017 at 5:13 PM UTC

planetshaker

A Leaf's Time

• One of the grea- test wonders, You will ever see, Is a leaf falling while L o o k i ng so a l i v e, W h e r e the o n l y re a s o n they d i e on that ground, I s **T I M** E

16

My pink toes my jerky Driftwood something yellow Like hot dogs something nuts Like a grren home run Ya my rest My privacy My screaming snooze dreams. Somone spun lip stick Like ******* or keats Somebody kised My drunk asain drunk neck Somebody killed Somedy went to their mother Im under winsheilds scraming phony Co piolet tuaila valley Look left we kicked shopping centers Some man who screams like Short ***** Goes listen I finally admitted you did my back Caking dizzy scream Some man my hair Some man i hate Some man nobody wants Bedz wax He whines hes called blood He dri ks steak he won He beat the used **** Well here goes privacy My red head tok my room room I cat litter the bay dreams I find rade im gay My **** i pace the boys It seems everyone hold my dads hat Ifi could kiss my dad Tell my mom she runs with seaweed Wehat we **** We buy we ***** drinks Why keep something I dream of addictive **** I dream of inteligance My dad gre wild my dads dad would of hated my hair cream my dads dad respects ******* but swore a white mans Hair cut belongs in the red blue cut atoms apple break down who runs who kills who wears Who goes home with no fault until pies goose her. Well She love my cards when the carpets partedand checkersmeant seing aa young man wit no control. Howmany now Since im older Ever wished they just ****** the boy Howmany got freedom No body they only hope love got a better bull **** Love got a wiser time!

0

Jan 28, 2016

Jan 28, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC

michael-parish

First picture

My pink toes my jerky Driftwood something yellow Like hot dogs something nuts Like a grren home run Ya my rest My privacy My screaming snooze dreams. Somone spun lip stick Like ******* or keats Somebody kised My drunk asain drunk neck Somebody killed Somedy went to their mother Im under winsheilds scraming phony Co piolet tuaila valley Look left we kicked shopping centers Some man who screams like Short ***** Goes listen I finally admitted you did my back Caking dizzy scream Some man my hair Some man i hate Some man nobody wants Bedz wax He whines hes called blood He dri ks steak he won He beat the used **** Well here goes privacy My red head tok my room room I cat litter the bay dreams I find rade im gay My **** i pace the boys It seems everyone hold my dads hat Ifi could kiss my dad Tell my mom she runs with seaweed Wehat we **** We buy we ***** drinks Why keep something I dream of addictive **** I dream of inteligance My dad gre wild my dads dad would of hated my hair cream my dads dad respects ******* but swore a white mans Hair cut belongs in the red blue cut atoms apple break down who runs who kills who wears Who goes home with no fault until pies goose her. Well She love my cards when the carpets partedand checkersmeant seing aa young man wit no control. Howmany now Since im older Ever wished they just ****** the boy Howmany got freedom No body they only hope love got a better bull **** Love got a wiser time!

51

weeds now fill the space in my heart where roses once bloomed the bees no longer give me honey, all the sunflowers that gre from my mind exterminated by your pesticide my iris eyes are now petaless, they've all been cried you killed the flower garden i am now a wasteland of wilted weeds and broken memories.

0

Oct 28, 2017

Oct 28, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC

frankierowl

the garden

weeds now fill the space in my heart where roses once bloomed the bees no longer give me honey, all the sunflowers that gre from my mind exterminated by your pesticide my iris eyes are now petaless, they've all been cried you killed the flower garden i am now a wasteland of wilted weeds and broken memories.

6