"hayes" poems
black girl
burnt fingertips on blunts and radio knobs
singing along to the words
pretending to fall in love
black girl
stuck with scratches
ashes
burnt skin
a taste for
female friends that benefit
black girl
can't hide her DNA
as easily as her true colors
black girl best friend
back girl white for a black girl
black girl lives on the north side
has a side girl on the south
black girl plays blues
bumps Kings of Leon
and Future
wondering which of the two
will be her future
black girl
never cusses in front of her sister
even though all she says is
'fuck it'
black girl white car
black girl no license
black girl speeds
black girl art school
black girl need scholarship
black girl raps
and forgets the words
black girl gossip girl
black girl breaks cigarettes
black girl never laughs at me when I think she will
black girl psh
black girl so much better
than who she thinks she is
black girl can't take a compliment
won't take credit
black girl so beautiful
black girl never pays for drugs
but gets high every night
black girl sometimes makes me jealous
sometimes I want to make
black girl jealous
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Rock n’ roll music, Folger’s, and paint-smeared hands.
Dresser drawers filled to the brim with undeveloped camera film.
Blue bonnets and overgrown grass, pecans and crunching fall leaves.
Dirt roads and river-rocks, typewriters, polaroid cameras, and feather-quill pens.
Those hand-me-down blue eyes and brown ones that are “sometimes hazel.”
Crystal clusters and Lord of the Rings.
Countless mosquito bites and play-pretend games in the clubhouse.
Early-birds and night-owls.
Trudy; and Randy Hayes.
“Don’t touch everything you see,” and “If you say you’re bored, I’ll find work for you to do.”
Sweet tea and okra and southern dishes blackened and drenched in cheese or gravy.
Grandma always burned everything to make sure it was fully cooked, and to her, it was never burned, just “well-done.”
Cigarettes and carpentry and cookbooks. Wild blackberries and birthday parties at the lake.
Sleeping in all day and staying up all night and procrastination.
Shepherd's Pie, potatoes, and four-leaf clovers.
“Nil Desperandum. Never Despairing.”
I’m from a whole house that eats eggs for breakfast, and I’m allergic to eggs.
And trees as tall as buildings and buildings as tall as trees.
“You should never take the lord’s name in vain,” and “Jesus loves you, so you should love others.”
Day-dreams and stargazing and thunderstorms.
“All or nothing,” and “There is no try, only do.”
Old family pictures in dust-glittered frames.
We are crystals. We have facets, each one makes us who we are.
With only one window of our lives to express, we’d merely be glass.
I am a part of each of these things just as much as they are each a part of me.
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 12:36 AM UTC
“Sweet Kiss” was the horse and Frank Hayes was his rider,
Both destined this day to gain fame.
Frank was a stable boy on his first stake horse;
The horse too was a novice, but game.
This pairing went off at 20-1, but was well worth the risk of a “fiver”.
Sweet Kiss won the race and the bettors were stunned
for his jockey fell off, a cadaver.
Frank suffered a heart attack on the last turn
and the horse was the only survivor.
Frank Hayes, undefeated, was interred in his silks.
“Sweet Kiss”, undefeated, retired.
Jockeys are short but have memories long-
None were willing to be her next rider.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
*I trekked across the icy shores of Alaska and survived with Gary Paulsen and his dogs
I went on many cross-country road trips, hitchhiking, train riding, and drinking with Jack Kerouac
I shot up ****** and did some time in Interzone with William S Burroughs
I dropped acid and read poetry with Jim Morrison
I murdered a girl and committed suicide with J.R. Hayes
I insulted everyone I knew with Jay Randall and laughed about it afterwards
I meditated high up in the mountaintops with Gary Snyder
I suffered New Orleans police brutality and withdrawal with Mike Williams
I drank, worked, gambled, ****** myself with Charles Bukowski
I admired the beauty of nature and God as self with Walt Whitman
I admired the beauty and balance of nature and city life with Henry David Thoreau
I wandered the desert landscape and sabotaged those that would harm the Earth with Edward Abbey
I painted a world of pictures out of words with e.e. cummings
I loved like no one has ever been loved in this wretched world with Pablo Neruda
I outlived macabre and twisted tales from the mind of Edgar Allan Poe
I spent a few months in France with the cryptic mind of Charles Baudelaire
I drank and wrote nature literature from animal perspectives with Jack London
I lived the songs that Tom Waits wrote
I went insane with Sparrow in New York
I found myself traveling on a Tour Of Homes, reciting ‘Talk Music’ with Dan Smith
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness” with Allen Ginsberg*
When all was said and done and every word wrote three times or more
I disappeared into the oncoming onslaught of midnight's dreary dreams
Like so many forgotten poets, writers, and orators
Who’s words have faded with the oblivion of time
Only to be remembered by a select few from here and there
That have chosen to remember, to write, to read, to never forget
Which are you and where do you come from?
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 9:26 AM UTC
Forty dollars of *****
151 ***
You will find me in the alley
a drunken ***
Lights flashing in my brain
Spinning gripping my soul
Ecstacy in alcoholic rage
Writing off the page
I raise the flag
To Ira Hayes
A fallen hero
And his last days
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
121 to 140 of 3251 Poets
«5678»Viewsshow detailshide detailsSort by
Michael Fried
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Julia de Burgos
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Keith Waldrop (b. 1932)
Shipwreck in Haven, Part Four
“Majesty”
Susan Hahn
Anthem
Alice Lyons
Developers
The Boom and After the Boom
Walt Whitman (1819–1892)
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer
Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking
Kazim Ali (b. 1971)
Ramadan
Speech
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)
Aftermath
Hymn to the Night
Sharon Olds (b. 1942)
I Could Not Tell
Chamber Thicket
Billy Collins (b. 1941)
Silence
Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire the Length and Clarity of Their Titles
Corina Copp
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Dorothea Grossman (1937–2012)
I have to tell you
For Allen Ginsberg
Bridget Lowe
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Diane Burns
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Beth Brant
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Terrance Hayes (b. 1971)
Stick Elegy
Cocktails with Orpheus
Ann Taylor (1782–1866)
The Baby's Dance
The Cut
Chrystos
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Amit Majmudar (b. 1979)
The Miscarriage
Instructions to an Artisan
Linda Rodriguez
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
«5678»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
I was tired today.
A long night it was.
He tossed and turned.
I tossed and turned.
The room was hot.
The room was cold.
It seemed the sun rose too soon.
Up the stairs
With Creaky knees.
At least the left hip is not sore yet.
Mind over matter, "Walk. Walk. Walk!"
Commanding myself to Step on the floor surely.
Keep going
Just a few more steps.
Keep it up,"Walk, walk, walk!"
Keep moving hip!
Maybe the pain will go away.
Why am I so sore?
Louis Hayes says,
"Fear of going forward in major decisions.
Nothing to move forward to."
Hum, is this really so?
Yes, I do feel like I am being still.
After all, it doesn't hurt when I am still.
Or does it?
Yet, I keep moving
In spite of my musings.
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 2:16 AM UTC
There’s never been a man like Grandpa Hayes
‘Cause all the tales about him must be true:
Broke sixteen horses less’n seven days
And stole the Rancher’s girl in only two.
He lived for eighty years ‘cause he was skilled,
An expert shot who never came out worse.
His .32 was from a man he killed
The only one who’d ever shot him first.
A family curse what made him ride so fast
‘Cause lightnin struck his daddy graveyard dead
They say it turned his uncle into ash
And then it got his cousin in the head.
So Grandpa spent his life outrunnin clouds
Just lookin for a truth he never found.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 3:49 PM UTC
Drove down the iron pipe into the summit on
Iwo Jima .old glory waved in the spirits of thousands leaving in a rush.
Jay silverheels... Tonto if you will. Harold J. Smith.
Didn't climb a hill. Mono sylabic.
***** speak. Couldn't be weak
To be him.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
Strangers.
Only talked once.
Till her friend dated him.
Texted him a couple times.
Then summer came along...
Friends.
Talked some more.
Then she broke up with him.
Texted him everyday.
Then a little crush came along...
Best friends.
Knew mostly everything about each other.
She like him a little, and he liked her a lot.
Texted till they passed out.
Then a question came along...
Boyfriend and Girlfriend.
We know everything about each other.
We are madly in love with each other.
Can talk about anything with each other.
Dallas Hayes Nichols and Abigail Rose Buell together at last, forever and ever.♥
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:30 AM UTC
Monday morning and here they wait
proffering their passports - pleasure cards
submitted to scanning for our next date.
Returning regular regards.
Brave Ben Hayes benign war hero
veteran of bellicose books
stalker of the cinema's front row
lover of library ladies' looks.
Miss Patterson reads the romantics
that free her from kindly caring
and meddling medical antics
that prevent her feelings flaring.
Finally here comes Francis
who craves crime and thriller novels
demented detectives dangerous dodges
devoted while the narrative unravels.
Then there's me. I'm normal.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
To the top you gotta go far
Shortcuts only lead to cut short
Couple drops to the bottom I left the local bar
Another day another night fire burns like a torch
I know the thrill is a sport
To many wrong turns on the wrong path and I'm in court
Plus the ref ***** ***** rigged now its got me all outta sorts
Can't quit a mission James never hit abort
Bonds when i swing
White when I sing, a young lion like Barry wit a 40 on the porch
I don't give a **** about a thing
Stressing over every little thing
Really just wanna spread my wings
**** being cliche **** playing safe each day you can't live free this way
So it's my way or you can hit the traffic on the freeway
See my vibes a cool breeze wit a lil Hayes
Soul man wit a shaft that'll make em say
**** the DEA and the CCA
Perfect GPA, so shawtys high grade
Give her protein to build the muscles in the brain
...9 lives but I leave the ***** slain
Mastering this lion in a cage that's untamed
Thought I was insane til I learned bout chi
**** meditating to get free
See we're all the same but all unique
I've been in a daze for 9 months and weeks
Smacking myself to see if I'm asleep
The NSA surveilling all the sheep
Stand your ground law but what about peace
Eric Snowden was just the slightest breach
Gotta do this to heal the soul i dont preach
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
I sat up late with a Shoot-em-up
While the wife went off to bed,
There was a time I’d have joined her, but
She only had sleep in her head.
There was Gabby Hayes and a guy called Clint
Holed up in a barn, in Mo.,
And blasting away at the barn outside
Was an evil guy, called Joe.
I knew which was the good and the bad
Though they each wore a Stetson hat,
For Hayes and Clint’s were a pearly white
While this evil Joe’s was black.
He’d robbed the Stage, and hidden the loot
In the barn, where the good guys lay,
He yelled, ‘You’d better throw out them sacks,
If not, then you’d better pray!’
‘The Sheriff will come and kick your ****
Rang out the voice of Clint,
‘I’ll say, Dadburned if he don’t,’ said Hayes
‘You’re a pesky, bad varmint!’
Then it ended, as the old westerns did
With Joe laid out on a slab,
Though he starred again in a hundred films
He was always labelled bad.
I went out onto the porch to smoke
It was warm, a summer night,
While the Southern Cross shone up above
In the Milky Way, so bright,
And I pondered then on a single line
That Joe had snarled, to connive,
‘If you don’t throw out them sacks right now
You’ll never get out alive!’
The world is full of the likes of Joe
Who threaten and rob, and steal,
While the rest of us are lying low
And living a life that’s real.
But he said one thing that applies to us
To the bad and the good that strive,
Whatever the sort of life you live
You’ll never get out alive!’
David Lewis Paget
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Presidents
Washington, Adams and Jefferson,
had *** with slaves just for fun.
Madison, Monroe and Adams,
I'm sure had secret madams.
Jackson, Van Buren and Harrison,
not sure how they ever won.
Tyler, Polk and Taylor,
before elected lived in a trailer.
Fillmore, Pierce and Buchanan,
should have been shot from a cannon.
Lincoln, Johnson and Grant,
each once had a cotton plant.
Hayes, Garfield and Arthur,
sinking fast with no life preserver.
Cleveland, Harrison and again Cleveland,
both of them killed at least one Indian.
McKinley, Roosevelt and Taft,
all too fat to float on a raft.
Wilson, Harding and Coolidge,
should have jumped from a bridge.
Hoover, Roosevelt and Truman,
wondering if they were even human.
Eisenhower, Kennedy and Johnson,
neither of them can still run.
Nixon, Ford and Carter,
not sure which one was smarter.
Reagan, Bush and Clinton,
shot, stupid and a Monica.
Bush and now Obama,
one was dumb,
and the other looks like a black llama.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
If
wish
and simple as that,
a twist...
even a poet could not resist
an orange peel
with their
iced tea...
the smoke from a hundred chimneys
and the rain from a thousand storm-clouds,
a city made of iron and brick
were we fooling ourselves to begin with?
If wish,
if only
and what's to be done next?
simple as that,
and this twist?
(an elevator that goes to the moon
is even more irrisitable
to a fainted heart novelist)
ahh, a crafters fortune and vision
a grip on a tether ball, a step on a tight rope walker
falling forever into city
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 8:42 PM UTC
I think maybe
I loved you a
little bit. I knew
it then but never
told you. That's
okay, though,
because I think
you loved me a
little bit, too, and
never told me,
either.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Let it break
You'll feel better
You're always near
But gone forever
I don't hear you
Anymore
There's too much noise
Noise
No I can't hear you
In this noise
Far away
You don't need it
Day by day
But you don't mean it
I don't want to hear you
Anymore
Just give me noise
Noise
No, I don't wanna hear you
In this noise
No, I don't wanna hear you
Give me noise -Gemma Hayes
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 1:39 PM UTC
interconnecting cords
intertwined in her chords, quite accurate.
overfilled, over colorful,
cramped, spacious,
just right.
All these games and movies
foretelling our goals and dreams,
fantasies and fears.
Kisses, embrace…
laughs, scream
for me,
I love to hear my name.
Never forget me,
hold on tight,
the moons are shining bright tonight.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC
Dallas has
Abbie's heart.
Loves her for her.
Life's been rough for both
Although they found
Something they
Have to share.
Always gonna be together.
You can say different if you want.
Each of them don't believe that
****
Never doubting there love.
In each others arms
Closing there eyes.
Holding
On the
Lovers
Stay together forever.<3
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:30 AM UTC
A circle noon is here and we message awhile
or oft right assuage the view of Ashton Hayes
as these will meet with hardly a shiver forthwith our hindsight there harbors a polite politic without polemic.
As observations finish at sunset and measure loft during sunshine with embankment that has marked us with sheen inside.
Therefore heathers disappear as smoke clouded conditions now our gazes in the fog of the air as the ashes still in the rain only go away if we accompany legislatively hence rescue reform yet seen in glory.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC
He is so kind,
I wanted him to be mine.
But now that you're gone,
I find it hard to move on.
Is it bad that I long for you?
What else should I do?
I'm your Sally Hayes,
the one you pushed away.
Maybe I'd be better on my own,
instead of running from home to home.
The world is far to cold,
to trust anyone who's far too bold.
The right one will come along,
but I have waited far too long.
I don't care if you can't offer more,
I need you behind closed doors.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
I want inside.
These windows, sealed shut with silence, keep me foreign.
Im supposed to smile with familiarity.
& smile i do.
My organs bleed, & my roses bloom.
- Mandy Hayes.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
Censored
You hate me don't you?
My brown skin ***** hair and long dxck intimidate, don't they?
You say we're violent but you don't see the fear in our eyes
You say "He was no Angel" when one of us dies.
You said Columbus discovered America when he pillaged and destroyed an entire culture
Then we were brought here, and slavery picked at us like the meanest vulture
You want to say it, but you don't want to alienate the people that were so long hung killed profiled enslaved and *****
I'm not stuck in the past I'm just sticking this pen up the *** of those who say racism has seen it's day
I wish I could say that. But like Alex Hayes we need to bring our roots back,
Study our history so it's never repeated,
That way, one day racism can be defeated
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
“The story of love is not important. What is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.” ~ Helen Hayes
Some of us never find true love, so we don’t even know what it is.
We cannot fathom what others are feeling.
Love cannot be taught in any school, as Rumi says.
Some of us, if we are lucky, are given a taste..
a small taste
so we may long for what is to come.
So we find love or love finds us
Sometimes we fall in love and love remains unreturned,
remaining distant despite our prayers, our hopes, and our wishes..
Sometimes love is returned and we experience its divine gifts and get a taste of heaven
And the world just seems a better place through the eyes of love.
But this world is temporal;
and within it, true love can only be temporal.
It comes and it goes
It pains and it bleeds
It awakens some and puts others to sleep.
It is highs.. and it is lows.
It gives.. and then it takes it all away.
It conceals, it deceives, it distrusts.
Perhaps that is why most people are so cynical
Convinced that true love does not exist at all.
But I know that it does.
I have seen it
I have felt it,
… I have become it.
And I crave the glimpses though I know they are merely that;
small and temporary windows into a world we hope to reach one day.
Where all there is
is Love.
“We can’t help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.”
~ Rumi
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Nicholas Tremulis, Wade Hayes,
two of my favorite singles but rather
obscure next to Paul McCartney
and Stevie Wonder.
Louis Lucas and Ronnie Levick,
rather obscure Bandstanders compared
to Kenny and Arlene and Justin and Bob.
Joe Mota and Ed Perry,
two obscure Illini compared
to **** Butkus and Johnny "Red" Kirk
Loren Tate and Bob Rasmussen,
two Champaign-Urbana New Gazette
sports writers not very known
compared to nationally based sports writers **** Shoop and **** Young
Obscurity vs. fame -
Is it necessary?
Just like
poverty vs. wealth -
Is that necessary?
I just wish we all could be wealthy and famous!
Charles Sturies
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC