"kiting" poems - Hello Poetry

Im writing on a doc, ignorin’ that time on the clock cause a day without writing, is like a day without kiting. i run cross country.

0

Feb 12, 2014

Feb 12, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC

timmy-durden

I run cross country.

Im writing on a doc, ignorin’ that time on the clock cause a day without writing, is like a day without kiting. i run cross country.

5

****** Factor old Ralphy McCalister they all called him Chubs he was a one of kind ****** ball even rooted for the Cubs he thought he was slick yes he thought he was cool only thing wrong was most thought he was a tool greasy long black hair combed high on his head various sized zits on his face all puffy and red he still wore high heeled boots to make him seem tall always trying to impress saying I have to take this call when everyone knew it was most likely his mom he'd wink at you and say loudly hey hi there Tom who was supposed to be some famous music man working on a record deal for Chubs and Steely Dan it's funny cause he couldn't play, dance or sing his best known talent was drooling over some young thing with his black leather jacket and skin tight jeans only tune he could play was after eating baked beans he wore phony gold bracelets and chains round his neck spent time in the pokey for kiting a check always looking for an angle to scam off a buck his made-up stories could fill a large truck yes on the sleeze meter he scored a staggering plus there goes another of his pimples about to ooze **** you know he might have had a chance at being an actor one thing for sure was he had that special sleeze factor Gomer LePoet...

0

Sep 2, 2011

Sep 2, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC

david-nelson

****** Factor

****** Factor old Ralphy McCalister they all called him Chubs he was a one of kind ****** ball even rooted for the Cubs he thought he was slick yes he thought he was cool only thing wrong was most thought he was a tool greasy long black hair combed high on his head various sized zits on his face all puffy and red he still wore high heeled boots to make him seem tall always trying to impress saying I have to take this call when everyone knew it was most likely his mom he'd wink at you and say loudly hey hi there Tom who was supposed to be some famous music man working on a record deal for Chubs and Steely Dan it's funny cause he couldn't play, dance or sing his best known talent was drooling over some young thing with his black leather jacket and skin tight jeans only tune he could play was after eating baked beans he wore phony gold bracelets and chains round his neck spent time in the pokey for kiting a check always looking for an angle to scam off a buck his made-up stories could fill a large truck yes on the sleeze meter he scored a staggering plus there goes another of his pimples about to ooze **** you know he might have had a chance at being an actor one thing for sure was he had that special sleeze factor Gomer LePoet...

26

you are in the middle of things, insisting importance – you would feel shivering in the distant blue of another girdled spark and there, in the not-so-distant sky, I reach for damp perimeters and have your face conclusive with whiteness, sure of its glare, crossing the frangipani outside my home; silence leapt borders and now an incident. uninterrupted. resolute. absolved. although so suddenly moving away kiting around and perhaps death will deal its part when love’s done with its tedious labor – and it will all be moments of bliss, two people renaming necessary haunts, laughing in the dense air, keeping an ear for the spring of yourself.

0

Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 10:33 AM UTC

windsor-i-guadalupe-jr

Light Outside

you are in the middle of things, insisting importance – you would feel shivering in the distant blue of another girdled spark and there, in the not-so-distant sky, I reach for damp perimeters and have your face conclusive with whiteness, sure of its glare, crossing the frangipani outside my home; silence leapt borders and now an incident. uninterrupted. resolute. absolved. although so suddenly moving away kiting around and perhaps death will deal its part when love’s done with its tedious labor – and it will all be moments of bliss, two people renaming necessary haunts, laughing in the dense air, keeping an ear for the spring of yourself.

20

When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses-- everything is up in the air. At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker. Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation. I whisper in his ear: I am Leon Czolgosz. Your heart is the President of the United States of America. We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara. My detective, of course, falls hard. The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station. They know him there. They hire cellists. He confesses his deepest fantasy to me: I want to speak words of love to you via telephone with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass. I want the call recorded and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe. Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe. My small black cubs frolic nearby, climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again. My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo. The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula. I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him. At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest. I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me. My detective wears a felt fedora and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel. I am The Queen of the Mist, suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking. Our love is an aviary where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti. Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective. I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg. He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client. I enter a plea of innocent. My love is happy now, laughing.

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Jul 25, 2025

Jul 25, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC

ShayCaroline

My Detective

When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses-- everything is up in the air. At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker. Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation. I whisper in his ear: I am Leon Czolgosz. Your heart is the President of the United States of America. We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara. My detective, of course, falls hard. The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station. They know him there. They hire cellists. He confesses his deepest fantasy to me: I want to speak words of love to you via telephone with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass. I want the call recorded and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe. Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe. My small black cubs frolic nearby, climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again. My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo. The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula. I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him. At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest. I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me. My detective wears a felt fedora and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel. I am The Queen of the Mist, suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking. Our love is an aviary where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti. Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective. I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg. He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client. I enter a plea of innocent. My love is happy now, laughing.

38

We went kiting today! The wind was blowing through me The kite was catching wind The way I catch my breath with a sigh He was swirling and tumbling up high and dangerously low While I was trying to keep it high The way someone tries to keep its head above water Without knowing how to swim Let’s kite between the green of the grass and the blue of the sky Dreams in the soul and hopes up high

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Aug 13, 2024

Aug 13, 2024 at 1:30 PM UTC

loreleite

Kite flying

We went kiting today! The wind was blowing through me The kite was catching wind The way I catch my breath with a sigh He was swirling and tumbling up high and dangerously low While I was trying to keep it high The way someone tries to keep its head above water Without knowing how to swim Let’s kite between the green of the grass and the blue of the sky Dreams in the soul and hopes up high

10

Dark, lonely road it was, drifting; Wondering about the life I could've had, worrying. Nothing matters now when nobody cares, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares. Dark as the night and mighty as a knight, my life, Weary it was as I lost my sight, my soul, Wavered as I am no good at kiting, my love, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares. Dreadful it was to hear about the backstabbers, but Nothing matters now when I've lost the people I care, Never be the same again, all they do is just stare, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares.

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Sep 18, 2023

Sep 18, 2023 at 8:08 AM UTC

SamlEmrys

The Drifter

Dark, lonely road it was, drifting; Wondering about the life I could've had, worrying. Nothing matters now when nobody cares, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares. Dark as the night and mighty as a knight, my life, Weary it was as I lost my sight, my soul, Wavered as I am no good at kiting, my love, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares. Dreadful it was to hear about the backstabbers, but Nothing matters now when I've lost the people I care, Never be the same again, all they do is just stare, but Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares.

12

At the water's edge, a discarded candy wrapper kites upwards, flitting, flittering, rising, rising, falling, falling, before dancing with the waves. Waves lap their lullaby along the shore, then slip back to the sea. The shoreline breathing with each wave's retreat, this slow pulse of land and sea. In the distance an orange sun melts, bleeding fire into its waiting blue. Minnows skip through the shallows. Sun and shade silvering the fish in flashes. A heron calls once. Then silence, as a lighthouse's white pulse traces the rocky shore. The candy wrapper brushes against a figure, a shape, a shadow, before floating away. The figure turning, slowly, barely, cradled in the rhythm of waves. Gently pulled by the current, softly pushed by the wind. A seagull's feather falls on pale skin. Resting a moment. Before cool water washes it away. Everything drifts... bobbing, bobbing, slowly, slowly, out to the ocean. And so it drifts, this body, this drowned man, traveling slowly to his new home.

0

Jun 3, 2025

Jun 3, 2025 at 2:24 PM UTC

stevesouza

Drifting

At the water's edge, a discarded candy wrapper kites upwards, flitting, flittering, rising, rising, falling, falling, before dancing with the waves. Waves lap their lullaby along the shore, then slip back to the sea. The shoreline breathing with each wave's retreat, this slow pulse of land and sea. In the distance an orange sun melts, bleeding fire into its waiting blue. Minnows skip through the shallows. Sun and shade silvering the fish in flashes. A heron calls once. Then silence, as a lighthouse's white pulse traces the rocky shore. The candy wrapper brushes against a figure, a shape, a shadow, before floating away. The figure turning, slowly, barely, cradled in the rhythm of waves. Gently pulled by the current, softly pushed by the wind. A seagull's feather falls on pale skin. Resting a moment. Before cool water washes it away. Everything drifts... bobbing, bobbing, slowly, slowly, out to the ocean. And so it drifts, this body, this drowned man, traveling slowly to his new home.

48

the idea that this is as the webs towing spiders in the winds, winding listfully on circuits long ago distorted with mountains and canyons, effecting whorls and currents forcing a way around a mountain for the mists that once watered the flatter feeling vessel we were alive upon, in books spaceship earth one. I in roman tongue, but nothing lasts forever, everything else changes, constantly, be still. be --- realms with in reasons, uni-verse-ity-ifity agregaton setting liquified stone, some how (wise) wegsheid sehen Sie veer left OOPs loops, left from when this was a decide point. FYI, it was my idea to go through the wall, I was the one who went through, not you, I came out the front door, not you, but you didn't run, you were my friend, in this projection of a decider point, we passed adaptively, as if augmented with a allyes promise, ala all ye, all ye, outs in free... message from base aye, I A-ok a intuitive influencee feeling tugging, not pushing, gentle pull, slow and steady spider woman, grace for grace. let flow this thread in ever let it tangle with the wind, we hold in our fists, and the thief looses owning his good for use, the joker lifts off, with a laugh, doing good, like medicine, loosed when one hand claps, without the other knowing, science-wise.

0

Feb 1, 2020

Feb 1, 2020 at 4:36 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Kiting a thought

the idea that this is as the webs towing spiders in the winds, winding listfully on circuits long ago distorted with mountains and canyons, effecting whorls and currents forcing a way around a mountain for the mists that once watered the flatter feeling vessel we were alive upon, in books spaceship earth one. I in roman tongue, but nothing lasts forever, everything else changes, constantly, be still. be --- realms with in reasons, uni-verse-ity-ifity agregaton setting liquified stone, some how (wise) wegsheid sehen Sie veer left OOPs loops, left from when this was a decide point. FYI, it was my idea to go through the wall, I was the one who went through, not you, I came out the front door, not you, but you didn't run, you were my friend, in this projection of a decider point, we passed adaptively, as if augmented with a allyes promise, ala all ye, all ye, outs in free... message from base aye, I A-ok a intuitive influencee feeling tugging, not pushing, gentle pull, slow and steady spider woman, grace for grace. let flow this thread in ever let it tangle with the wind, we hold in our fists, and the thief looses owning his good for use, the joker lifts off, with a laugh, doing good, like medicine, loosed when one hand claps, without the other knowing, science-wise.

42