"harmon" poems - Hello Poetry

Like a peacock on a roof, I’m a wonder with height American-Jew on Mt. Harmon. My tallis are bright feathers My tefillin, my beak. In Israel they are me. Why do I feel different in the Land? Like a peacock on a roof, I’m curiously at home.

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Aug 19, 2013

Aug 19, 2013 at 7:49 PM UTC

steven-fried

Peacocking over Tz'fat

Like a peacock on a roof, I’m a wonder with height American-Jew on Mt. Harmon. My tallis are bright feathers My tefillin, my beak. In Israel they are me. Why do I feel different in the Land? Like a peacock on a roof, I’m curiously at home.

9

Dear Hot Straight Actresses, Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights. It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To name a few, Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word. Stop it! Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee. Stop it! Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles. You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop! And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy. You…you keep going. You two give me hope. Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap. In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal. Missing out on the Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small or the Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me. or the Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet. Nope…didn’t see any of those. I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids. All I’m asking is… …when is it coming out on DVD?

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Oct 1, 2012

Oct 1, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC

hayley-simpson

Dear Hot Straight Actresses,

Dear Hot Straight Actresses, Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights. It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To name a few, Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word. Stop it! Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee. Stop it! Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles. You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop! And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy. You…you keep going. You two give me hope. Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap. In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal. Missing out on the Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small or the Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me. or the Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet. Nope…didn’t see any of those. I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids. All I’m asking is… …when is it coming out on DVD?

24

With my ear pressed I stammer I hear elves in this seat from some workshop they hammer their work never complete and the stick that I searched for scrapes the mud from my shoes then I sigh at the back door and swing open the blues and the TV is blaring and the dinner is cold and they look without caring boy just do what your told so I climb to my bed well not mine just on loan and with hurt in my head fall asleep in their home ©2013 Lyn

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Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC

LynSenz

four harmon court

With my ear pressed I stammer I hear elves in this seat from some workshop they hammer their work never complete and the stick that I searched for scrapes the mud from my shoes then I sigh at the back door and swing open the blues and the TV is blaring and the dinner is cold and they look without caring boy just do what your told so I climb to my bed well not mine just on loan and with hurt in my head fall asleep in their home ©2013 Lyn

30

He lay there in a ***** unkept ball, Having surrendered to the pavement. Wisps of stringy brown hair Covered the lines on his sunken in face, His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred, His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer. Kathleen Harmon sashayed by With nary a glace downward. Once they were equals, When they sat together During high school Chemistry. Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz, As a drop of saliva Kissed the pavement. Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips. His tangled brown whiskers, Patchy on his cheeks, Had lengthened with the passing days Since their last meeting with a razor. Nikes, Prada, and Gucci Ignore him in passing All sports, fashion, and business meetings; On the clock, and self-absorbed. Dusk marked the sky With a violet crayon Worn to a nub, Then worn to nothing. A sudden thud startled him awake! Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs! A caustic voice berated his slumber, A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.

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Sep 21, 2019

Sep 21, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC

MorganLA

Dusk

He lay there in a ***** unkept ball, Having surrendered to the pavement. Wisps of stringy brown hair Covered the lines on his sunken in face, His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred, His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer. Kathleen Harmon sashayed by With nary a glace downward. Once they were equals, When they sat together During high school Chemistry. Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz, As a drop of saliva Kissed the pavement. Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips. His tangled brown whiskers, Patchy on his cheeks, Had lengthened with the passing days Since their last meeting with a razor. Nikes, Prada, and Gucci Ignore him in passing All sports, fashion, and business meetings; On the clock, and self-absorbed. Dusk marked the sky With a violet crayon Worn to a nub, Then worn to nothing. A sudden thud startled him awake! Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs! A caustic voice berated his slumber, A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.

31

Take me Jezabiel You make me feel As if Im in a spell You are the one Underneath my wings You are the one That makes me crow And Sing. I can't leave without yah' Babe'. You are the holy one Above. If I take you for granted, Make me be the one, That is stunted; I am forgotten Without you; I am death Without yah'. Got a lot a worries, Oh' you know It's so. Little sugar near me Little sugar near my bowl. Can't you see That your life Is nothing but words, And a Half-hearted pray. Wolfs all around me. You're the love of my life. You take me to places I never thought I'd go. Take me slow. Love me heavy. You are the girl, I've always wished To know. I feel your breath. It rests upon My paper thin Napkin Neckline. You are my Cleopatra, Streaming past A transient dream. Take me as I am, All harmon, all joy, Patriotism Reflects Like lost reflections Of past ages **** past remembrance.

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Sep 24, 2014

Sep 24, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC

ashby-brown

I say HI to you

Take me Jezabiel You make me feel As if Im in a spell You are the one Underneath my wings You are the one That makes me crow And Sing. I can't leave without yah' Babe'. You are the holy one Above. If I take you for granted, Make me be the one, That is stunted; I am forgotten Without you; I am death Without yah'. Got a lot a worries, Oh' you know It's so. Little sugar near me Little sugar near my bowl. Can't you see That your life Is nothing but words, And a Half-hearted pray. Wolfs all around me. You're the love of my life. You take me to places I never thought I'd go. Take me slow. Love me heavy. You are the girl, I've always wished To know. I feel your breath. It rests upon My paper thin Napkin Neckline. You are my Cleopatra, Streaming past A transient dream. Take me as I am, All harmon, all joy, Patriotism Reflects Like lost reflections Of past ages **** past remembrance.

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