"hansel" poems
Well, she looks like a witch,
Her pointed nose does twitch.
As she frowns upon the grocery list,
Then scrunches in a timely twist.
Bidding her straw broom,
Which she doth groom.
Hovers away into the gloom,
Over a pond she doth loom.
To frogs, rats, snakes and slime,
Quoth she, "All in good time!!"
Soon they'll be no room,
For the impending doom.
Her cauldron happily hissing,
As she adds to the seething,
Her black cat begins meowing,
After the rats, he begins running.
Slowly cooling the putrid portion,
She applies the lovely lotion.
The moles, warts and silver hair,
Disappear into thin air.
Her velvet apparel now lace,
Not a blemish does one trace.
Fondling her silky Siamese,
She heads home with ease.
To the little candy castle,
Awaiting Hansel and Gretel.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I have yet to find the exact
size, length, width, weight, height,
of my rusted trusty nail, which I lost.
Painted golden brown
and rough on the edges,
that old man pinned my door to the wall.
Now it's left hanging in the open
dangling in the wind
swaying with the broken rain,
my home
vulnerable,
a feasty treat,
like the first time Hansel and Gretel saw the witch's house.
I'm not afraid of the
teeth baring wolves
bloodcurdling hounds with red eyes
massive 10 foot hungry bears
that tower over you with outstretched paws
holding a steak knife and fork
its brown fur a bib.
No
I'm afraid of my house
zipping up its backpack
filled with all the canned goods
fresh water canteens from the well
and all the matches and firewood in the cellar
taking off during the night
when the moon is at its darkest,
leaving I,
to do the only thing left:
To pay the bright orange flames
to entertain me as
my wads of money lit up the
darkest night of the century
all because I couldn't replace my
*most dear, loved, precious
nail.*
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
I must steal Harold’s purple crayon
And build myself a brand-new town
No king or paper bag princess
It will be me who wears the crown.
I shall draw myself a forest
And begin the stories anew
Word of the Fair Queen’s fame will spread
And chaos will ensue.
In order to reach my kingdom
You must first prove your worth
I cannot be reached by sea or sky
You must travel over the earth.
Through the forest is your only hope
To gain such fortune and fame
Marry the Queen and rule the kingdom
If you can survive the game.
You must follow Little Red Riding Hood
As far and as fast as you can
Steer clear of Jack and his beanstalk
Do not trust the Ginger Bread Man.
Snow White’s cabin is to the north
Goldilocks lives to the west
Hansel and Gretel will offer you food
Beware, this is a test.
The Three Little Pigs are plagued
By the Big Bad Wolf of lore
But even he is nothing compared
To the curse Sleeping Beauty bore
**** n Boots and Robin Hood
Will save you just one time
Dare to steal the Goose’s Golden eggs
And you will be punished for your crime.
If you manage to defy the odds
And make it through alive
I shall take your hand and under our rule
The kingdom will grow and thrive.
You must understand it isn’t personal, darling
When I slip the poison into your canteen
I miss my game, and nobody can be
More powerful than the crooked fair Queen.
Aug 30, 2022
Aug 30, 2022 at 10:57 AM UTC
The old lady planted roses near the corner by the driveway
She never planted roses by the door
I remember once she told me, "Bees come out to get the nectar"
And a bee sting can be deadly or quite sore
Instead, she planted herbs along the walkway to her cottage
You'd pass by, the scent was rather nice
Rubbing rosemary and lemon grass and sage against your trousers
Sometimes you would even walk by twice
She had hollyhocks and primrose, a classic English garden
Lots of fragrant trees and bushes there as well
There were cedars by the windows and hyacinth close by
If she even had a lawn, you couldn't tell
There were irises and tulips, daffodils and more
And great bushes of white lavender abound
Not only was the lawn gone, with the bushes and the trees
I bet from inside you'd nary hear a sound
Around the back the same thing, exactly as the front
Herbs and plant life, and I'd say maybe more
Than all the plants in Englands Kew Gardens have to see
And more lilacs by the walkway by the door
The vents from down the basement blew through cedars and the lilacs
Sending warming scents around the clustered yard
There were windows to the basement, blocked by flowers and the trees
And to see in was really rather hard
The one day I remember when I came out to the house
Is one I know I'll not forget
For walking down the pathway with a policeman on each side
Was the old lady with a look of deep regret
It seems the scented flowers and the bushes and the trees
Provided scents to hide the smells from deep inside
The air was vented out directly through the flowers
The house was just a grow op in disguise
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
The crispy ginger bread
for tea.... has gone.
Impatient Hansel turns around
yelling, shouting, screaming...
Oh no! Not my door again!
What a new fresh ginger fragrance!
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 6:12 AM UTC
I wish I could love my life and love myself
a little bit more,
fall on my hands and knees at every chance
and praise the life I lead.
I wish I didn't hate myself quite as much
and I wish I didn't recoil at the idea of my life,
the Grimm's fairy tale where Hansel and Gretel got eaten,
Rapunzel never threw down her hair
and Snow White was never kissed by Prince Charming.
The hatred burns hotter when I think of myself,
poor little rich girl,
sat in luxury in front of a warm fire,
belly full,
as thousands of kids in Africa bloat to death with paper thin limbs,
families in the Middle East are massacred and scattered across their countries barren landscapes,
innocent, too soon nearly corpses whither away in hospital beds,
sinking their teeth into whatever life they have left, clinging on.
I'm stable on the mountainside.
My family have never even seen a gun.
I haven't missed a meal in my entire nineteen years.
What the hell do I have to complain about?
My unhappiness disgusts me nearly as much as I disgust myself.
Sitting on a damp bus,
watching beads of rain rush down the dusty windows in diagonals,
like meteors crashing into Earth,
I curse.
I curse the vehicle,
I curse the safe home it's taking me back to,
the three course meal it's taking me from.
It's ******* sick.
I wish I could smile and mean it.
I wish I could love and not hate.
I wish I could love myself.
I'm so sorry for not being able to fully appreciate my life,
for taking it for granted,
for sounding like a spoiled brat.
You probably hate me as much as I hate myself.
I.
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
*******
I.
That's a vowel I'm going to try and use less of
(at least after this poem),
I promise.
Oh the irony.
I am not looking for sympathy.
I am not looking to be compared to a dying child on the street.
I am not asking for a single kind word.
I just ask for a bit of forgiveness.
I don't blame you if you can't seem to find any.
Just know I'm sorry
and I'm going to try.
Now.
*A
E
-
O*
U
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
I am driving barefoot. my brothers are crying.
my mother’s wake
the wake of my mother’s powdered cheeks
is over. we pass the house my shoes are in. they run
to one side of the house which makes it lean.
my brothers to keep from crumbling are sharing bread.
hansel dum and hansel dee.
in the end my mother was mostly an ocean dipped into
by lightning.
when I was a boy I sat a whole week in plain view
with a diecast car behind my teeth.
if you are one to dislike ‘in the end’ and ‘when I was a boy’,
you can hate this all you want:
a nightmare is a dream the heart is having.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 3:30 PM UTC
with skin of ivory
that blushes at the sight of sun
even when the clouds are out,
i turn into a silly shade of pink
with a heart that drops
falls down, down, down
into a rabbit hole
at the sight of anything
remotely shattering,
gasping at little cracks on the sidewalk
carefully tiptoeing around bumblebees
with lungs that fill with cotton
in fear of a hansel and gretel gingerbread house;
lead me to the witch
where i will cry and wonder,
“how did i get here?”
and forget about
all the gumdrops in my stomach
with poise that only lasts seconds
in the face of spiders,
they crawl into my mouth
kept there until given the chance to spit
them back into your face
i will hold my breath
and picture fields of lavender
where a tanned girl spins carelessly
until my tissue-paper limbs
learn how to hold me up
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
so
here we Are:
Arnold......Shortman,
Shorty......Meeks,
Mr......Meeseeks,
Ezekiel......Whitmore.
Morphine,,,,,,Morpheus,
Neo......Geo,
OG......Sour,
Sour......Diesel.
DeeDee's......Brother,
Cousin......Vinny,
Vinny's......Lover,
Brothers......Grimm.
Grim......adVentures,
Billy......Madison,
Hansel,,,,,,Gretel,
Chelsea......Grin.
Grimace,,,,,,Misery,
Mister......eBonic,
Bonny,,,,,,Clyde,
Kyle,,,,,,Kenny.
Kenny......Powers,
Powder Puff Girls,
"Girls Girls Girls",
Girls Gone Wild.
Wilee......Coyote,
Coyote......Ugly,
Ugly......Betty,
Betty......Crocker.
Doctor......Parnassus,
Doctor......Krieger,
Doctor......Horrible,
Doctor......Evil.
Evil......Knievel,
Felix......the Cat,
Captain Jack Sparrow:
"Captain......my Captain".
Tinman,,,,,,Scarecrow,
"Rowrow Rowyer Boat",
Bo......Burnham,
Earnest,,,,,,Vern.
Verdict,,,,,,Votive,
deVotion,,,,,,Vengeance,
aVenging......Evey,
V,,,,,,Vendetta.
Denace......the Menace,
Crystal......Globes,
Snow,,,,,,Aesthetics:
Skeletal......Shedding.
Head,,,,,,Tail,
Sally,,,,,,Jack,
Jack......Rabbits,
Magic......Hatters.
Shattered......Glass,
Glasgow......Smile,
Guile,,,,,,Vega,
Akuma,,,,,,Ryu.
You,,,,,,Me,
Beneath......the Bleacher:
Jeepers,,,,,,Creepers,
Reapers......of Seeds.
Seeds......of Chucky,
Chuckie......Finster,
Principal......Muriel,
Yuri......Gagarin.
© Copyrighted Jesse James Adams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
When you don’t know when to shut the door—
Someone slams it for you.
Then what?
Open the next one—
find your treasure box.
It’s difficult through when
all you get is a brick wall,
or a child who needs to grow up.
“You sir, are a savage. Caught me in the woods—
and I more like the rabbit you shot for Harvest moon.”
That thirsty water becomes summer gaze—
dark tides take those eyes away.
Hexasize they say is just a phrase
but I don’t see why when its---
Hansel and Grettle or
Wormwood in Screwtape Letters or
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
"Daddy," said Catharine as I tucked her
into bed, "will you tell me a tale?"
So I told her the story
of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
with Disney's ***** and Grumpy
thrown in for good measure;
and when I finished she pulled out
an apple from under her pillow
and she said I should eat it
I laughed and I did, and spent 7 days in hospital
And my doctor said I was lucky to have survived
the poisoned apple
Catharine won't tell us where she got it from
Today Catharine stands before me
and her stepmom
as we have dinner
And she places two pink cupcakes on the table
and she smiles, and she whispers:
"Eat...that's from Hansel and Gretel"
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
I am driving barefoot. my brothers are crying.
my mother’s wake
the wake of my mother’s powdered cheeks
is over. we pass the house my shoes are in. they run
to one side of the house which makes it lean.
my brothers to keep from crumbling are sharing bread.
hansel dum and hansel dee.
in the end my mother was mostly an ocean dipped into
by lightning.
when I was a boy I sat a whole week in plain view
with a diecast car behind my teeth.
if you are one to dislike ‘in the end’ and ‘when I was a boy’,
you can hate this all you want:
a nightmare is a dream the heart is having.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 11:25 AM UTC
*Where is that inner child,
why did it depart-
And take with it the stories,
That were close unto your heart*
From Mother Goose to Tennyson's
"Idyll's of the King",
folklore and fairy tales-
Of which the minstrels sing
Knights in shining armor,
atop their steeds of grace-
Protecting king and country
as they ride from place to place
There’s Jack and his stalk of beans,
“Lil Red and her hood-
Hansel, and his sister-
traips'n thru the wood
Rainbows and leprechauns,
elusive pots ‘o’ gold,
Oh, how many, many times have these
tales been told-
Fairies ‘neath the mushroom caps,
elves in their acorn hats,
Dancing 'neath the moon-ring light-
as fireflies flicker, to the “music
of the night”
And from the heavens, a horse appears-
adorned with wings of flight-
And from its head, a single horn-
the pure, and blessed, unicorn.
The minstrels, with their lutes and lyres-
amused the population-
But, could it be, these tales be true,
or just your imagination?
*That inner child, it's still there
It hasn’t gone away-
It just needs to be awakened-
on perhaps, this very day.*
r.riddle December 18, 2010-Copyright
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
For my brother, it meant everything
to stretch out and press
his face against the pane
of candy stretched crystalline.
To take the path away from father
for me one step away from
step-mother,
baking our dreams into
crumbs we left on the floor.
We’ll trace them back
to the place between
lost and found,
once we’ve fulfilled
our parts,
he’d always tell me.
But he doesn’t understand,
and honestly when does he,
that we’ve been doomed
from the start.
There is no Gretel,
to stoke the logs,
close the grate and latch
no heroine to fit the story’s need
there's only me
So when the witch comes back
she’ll ask
has Hansel truly grown fat?
a little pinch of the skin
an inadvertent test to see
which one of us should win?
It’s always an offering
always a suffering
always a surrender
of what makes me, she
and Hansel truly him
But I don’t mind
filling this role
I know it’s what I was made for
half baked like the crumbs
in a crummy oven
the real Gretel’s long gone
so her understudy will do.
If Mother could bake one daughter
why not try to bake two?
The witch will say it’s time
and ask me to reach back far
to find a warmth she can't see
it’s really not that odd
to hear the words escape me:
"why don't you try,
it's utterly exhausting
always having to hide"
and besides
I always desperately wanted
someone to show me
And I’ll even smile
as the crackle burns for just awhile
Hansel holding my hand
my pigtails askew.
The crumbs, our true
parents,
eaten in the leaves.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
How very lonely HP is,
In the middle of the night,
Reading long ago poems by friends,
Tapping little red hearts,
Only time I'm available,
After dusk; hours before dawn,
Reposting poems, my fingers just as assailable as Moby ****
Or Hansel's and Gretel's witch,
I stare at blank, gray suns,
Wishes I, I had some to use,
To uplift; to free,
All the beautiful poetry,
Even the ones with coquetry,
I rapidly kiss plusses with my right thumb,
Adding to worthy collections,
Of addictive confections,
'Till 2,
When alas I sip hot coco,
Scratch my ****
And fall asleep beside my cat; momo.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
Lost
in the dark forest of flux
not knowing where to turn
unable to see what's in front of me
Hansel can see me
but chooses to toss bread crumbs
in the comfort of shadows
instead of saving me.
Unknowingly
he's led us to the Witch's Cottage
and we won't emerge the same
Forged in her crucible
we had no choice but to change
into the blindman and the trickster
Now we're burnt and tattered
singing the eerie hymn that becomes our story:
Silly circles 'round the mulberry bush
the blindman chased the trickster
the trickster pulled a nasty prank
Bang! goes the blindman.
Don't look me in the eye.
You may have led us there,
but I followed knowing where
we would end up.
My name is Gretel
and my Hansel has lost himself
in a dark forest of flux.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
The jellybean kid
When jelly beans was the things
All those years ago
I was Patrick Dunbar
Who was no chest oh no
You see he was the jelly bean kid
And he ate a lot of them
Yeah taste yeah taste
Yeah jelly beans are so sweet
The jelly bean kid the jelly bean kid
Patrick Dunbar is the jelly bean kid
His colours are red and white and blue yeah he is the jelly bean kid
You see he would attend the 4th of July parade and mate he was really
Popular there and Halloween, he played a disgruntled hansel year
He wishes he could get away
And at thanksgiving he brought his outfit to the front oh yeah and then
At Christmas he led Santa's sleigh
Out to go ** ** **
All dressed up as
The jelly bean kid the jelly bean kid
Patrick Dunbar is the jelly bean kid
He will party like there is no tomorrow
Yeah he's the jelly bean kid
You see Patrick was walking down
Waving to the crowd saying howdy folks
And when he past the drinking crowd he will tip his hat oh yeah
Then will do a little dance and say
How cool he is
You see Patrick Dunbar is the jelly bean kid and said I am way cooler than him, who is the giant frog that is
And he sang
The jelly bean kid oh the jelly bean kid
Patrick Dunbar is the jelly bean kid
Walking on the street in the parade
Saying hello to the drinking folk
And doing a dance for the entertained mob yeah he is oh he is
He is the jelly bean kid oh yeah
Sent from my iPhone
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
St. Catharines light in the afternoon: lead oxide, pink white, dry mud shadows.
They lay on her living room carpet and Anthony gloated over Milly
Her cotton nightgown, her long back, and round shoulders: proof at last.
"So this is gloating. It is better to gloat than to doubt. It took me a long time."
Her clean faded quilt brought from the balcony rail: it
Smells of clean laundry and cold air and the thrill of their power.
He’s proud to be the lover of a heroine,
And happy that he can see her this way.”
Picnic kisses tasting of smoked oysters and beer.
There were never friendly kisses of love before?
"Milly, I love hearing how you defied the adults."
He told Hansel and Gretel to her child, who had strep throat,
And told it again, knowing it would work,
Seeing the bookshelves, seeing her notebooks,
Knowing that he would have his life after all:
The mispronounced words of a solitary reader,
The red skirt on the chair, the gold necklace of coins.
Paul Anthony Hutchinson
www.paulanthonyhutchinson.com
Copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
That very 9 minutes
Proved that i shouldn't have been alive
As the clock ticked on the dashboard,
My impulse became weaker
Pools of tears formed at the base of my eyes...
Every second reminded me of
The deeds i had done in the past,
'LOVE' was the cruelest among all..
My parents were disgusted in me
More disgusted in the presence of me
Then why wasn't baby foetus throw out
and fed to the dogs?
Why did baby foetus climb up in mom's belly?
Innocent. it didn't know whether it was evil or good.
It wanted a home and food.
It wanted a mom to be proud of
A dad, brave & strong
A sister who she would love
All life long.
But now as baby foetus grows
Dad grows no happy
Mom cry beneath the pillow
Others grow angry.
Is baby foetus a monster?
Not the same kinds of species?
Baby foetus brought a cat
Who didn't have a mom&dad;
She wanted to care of it
And dad feeling nothing for baby foetus
Not even for the kitten
Threw it out kicking it bad.
Baby foetus can do no good deeds
It wants only love
From which it stomach fills
Now baby foetus grabs a knife
With hands shaking bad
It puts it in her belly
Feeling more than glad
As the clock ticks,
Blood drains away from body
Baby foetus dosen't scream,cry or
shout"help somebody"
Baby foetus knows tears have no value
So it is blood which it has to purgate
Baby foetus looks at the ceiling
As her eyesight began to daze
She smiles & remember her kindergarten teacher
She closes her eyes and whisper"i really miss her"
And then she smirks of her proud memory
"declaring that she would score big"
But tears fall from her eyes
As she got nothing but a big kick
Baby foetus knows that she
cannot fulfill daddy's dream
Baby foetus has no power
to fight or to scream....
Baby foetus knows that she should die soon.....
She smiles as light fall on her face from the moon...
Baby foetus suddenly remembers
A story she had read.....
Hansel,gretel&the; witch
that they met
Mommy,daddy of hansel,gretel
keeps them away....
But as gold pour in
They allow them to stay
Baby foetus knows that she couldn't
do any any valuable deeds
But baby foetus is a baby
is the greatest thing
In mind they have to keep......
As eight minutes passed
Baby foetus felt uneasy
so she fell on the floor
Being tired and lazy
But what baby foetus didn't forget
was valuable very much
Mom,dad and sis photo on her
chest that she had clutched...
5,4,3,2,1...........
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
There are things that disappear
when I close my eyes,
dangerous things:
fire and its notebook,
the burden of procuring more poison,
my love affair with hydrogen,
the missing footage,
the sniper's veil,
the secret moon,
the cat's tale.
There are things that disappear
when I close my eyes,
random things:
Icarus descending into
brokenness and the candy afterlife,
the sound of the young
approaching an unseizable world,
the splendor of gretel,
the plunder of hansel,
a house of sticks for inbound kings.
There are things that disappear
when I close my eyes,
things said in passing:
"don't forget to write,"
"I'm too emotional to care,"
"I've got problems bigger than global warming,"
"touch this and die,"
"I think it's passed the expiration date,"
"leave it for the archaeologists,"
"the heart is sometimes wrong..."
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
Wherever he walks,
droplets of chemical toxins are emitted
from the soles of his shoes.
Hansel and Gretel.
I follow his trail of breadcrumbs
like it is all I have to hold on to.
A winding, infinite path of poison.
I have been exposed to too much radiation-
to take one more step is to seal my fate.
But I am lost, and so all I can do is
wander.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
I forget that my brain does not do _________ when it should do _________ and I slip under the coat of choking mustard gas that ***** the moisture from my lungs and eyes. A mustard seed of effort, small and yellow, cracked with no seeming dreaming thing of an eye has fallen like Hansel's crumbs from my hand and is buried with all my ambitions and dead dogs in the cold ground.
I hope it grows a kingdom of heaven, but prayers are wasted when they come from the wonton--and wayward kin of sinners who lead false farces and bring gluttony to dinner. I waste and want and cannot speak the language of those around me while we all whine and dine and **** and cackle
oh god
trite ********
********
******** ******** ******** ********
I am not tired, I am bored, I am bored of lying and trying. Trying is the worst, and there is little reward for the cost of my dismemberment of ego.
Where is a pre-made empire for me when I need it? I should be handed down something, I cannot earn it on my own. I am a ruler, not a conquerer. I am a spectator, not an athlete. My narcissism cannot take the trying effort of building something of my own with feeble rewards and now I will die alone. Maybe. Maybe it's all hyperbolic.
I'm gonna say it. **** you, I'll say it.
**** it, how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
To step foot through the Realms of Reality,
and turn from the land of make-believe,
is to give yourself over to the wasteland of happily-never-after.
You'll find along the path of the yellow brick ruins,
A sleeping beauty, cast to the side not in sleep, but in death.
A witch shoves Mother Goose in an Iron Clad stove,
along with Hansel and Gretel and the gingerbread man.
The Mad Hatter sips from his blood filled teacup,
and a mermaid's tail hangs upon the fisherman's hook.
Somewhere in the distance, a pixie's light goes out for good,
and another flying chimp is stripped of its feathered wings.
Rapunzal's golden hair lies in ashes on the grave,
along with the remnants of a tattered flying carpet.
The lost boys wander aimlessly, trying to remember how to fly,
and slice their toes on the remaining shards of a magic mirror.
The scream of a toymaker echoes through the air
As he watches his wooden boy scorch in the flames before his eyes.
The sky grows darker as the second star to the right goes out,
and a dragon lies dying because Jackie Paper was ripped to shreds.
A genie slams the walls of his prison, suffocating inside his magic lamp,
and a child, no bigger then your thumb, is carried off by a jet black raven.
A half dead Briar Rabbit, steps over the carcass of a cow from the moon
and seven shaken dwarves waste away, mourning over their stone cold maiden.
A flying elephant is shot down dead, and drops from the blood red sky
And a thin lost sheep is snatched in the jaws of the big bad wolf.
A small, shaken child stumbles out of the mist and shadow,
wondering what became of his beloved Land of Make Believe..
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 9:53 AM UTC
Wild heart
Gypsy soul
Traveler of the outskirts
Dancing through the darkness
Stars dangle in my hair
Tasting midnight on my lips
You mark me every time
Teeth. Hand-prints. Essence.
I never leave whole
Pieces of me, of you, crocheted into grandma squares
Dot the journey between us
Hansel and Gretel style
"Pick them up"
You pick them up!
Connect their edges
Our nimble fingers weaving through
A wash of color and heartache stretches between us
In order to grow we must hurt
One of your smiles nips at my pinky as my needle moves
I miss their edge
Moaning softly, shaking memories loose
Warmth easing through the distance between you and I
"Let's wrap up in each other"
But we are not done!?
..."We never will be. I want you now."
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
Mind a steel trap
stealing thoughts and memories
cars and high chairs
the Shang Dynasty of "The" great wall
never once said
"What if I can't?"
they only said ***** please
let's build a wall to the moon
Nepal wanted to join in on the fun
captured children like Hansel and Gretel
fed them their own feces they puked for weeks
no candy here
just cold hard abs
rippling
like the ocean
tye-dyed head stones
skipping graves rather gravely
could you spare some change?
Nah man just some odors
re-ordering from Fed-Ex
exponential increase of refraction
reaction
all base
tickle me Elmo
and give me strength.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC