"lynne" poems - Hello Poetry

Yo Terry, you gone loco? talking to yourself all the time now oh, yeah? is that a blue tooth or a blue ear? is it surgically attached? do you wear it to bed? take it with you into the shower? Man, you would never be so crazy it can’t be you it’s got to be your cell phone clone hey lady, can you see that green arrow it won’t last forever what’s up…honk, honk you’re on the phone? we’re gonna to miss the left …turn honey, you must be blind how’d you get your license? is that Lynne? **** girl it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone A. K., another call? and we’re supposed to be having a conversation kickin’ it now you’re text messaging under the table and you think I don’t notice? Dude, I’m not that stupid and you, my brother, would never be that rude to me it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone yo Brenda, who you talking to out there? oh…(whispered) cell phone clone Leon, dude! How many cell phones you need? You’re talking on the one you got pressed onto your ear There’s another on the table in front of you Do you have one more? You could be a juggler Join the circus Girlfriend, don’t you realize the light has changed and you’re standing in the crosswalk in the middle of the street? hang up the phone and step—yeah, you Jeez...I…I see cell phone clones They’re everywhere

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Apr 10, 2010

Apr 10, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC

del-maximo

Cell Phone Clone

Yo Terry, you gone loco? talking to yourself all the time now oh, yeah? is that a blue tooth or a blue ear? is it surgically attached? do you wear it to bed? take it with you into the shower? Man, you would never be so crazy it can’t be you it’s got to be your cell phone clone hey lady, can you see that green arrow it won’t last forever what’s up…honk, honk you’re on the phone? we’re gonna to miss the left …turn honey, you must be blind how’d you get your license? is that Lynne? **** girl it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone A. K., another call? and we’re supposed to be having a conversation kickin’ it now you’re text messaging under the table and you think I don’t notice? Dude, I’m not that stupid and you, my brother, would never be that rude to me it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone yo Brenda, who you talking to out there? oh…(whispered) cell phone clone Leon, dude! How many cell phones you need? You’re talking on the one you got pressed onto your ear There’s another on the table in front of you Do you have one more? You could be a juggler Join the circus Girlfriend, don’t you realize the light has changed and you’re standing in the crosswalk in the middle of the street? hang up the phone and step—yeah, you Jeez...I…I see cell phone clones They’re everywhere

44

I carried a book. My book was all of the things. I carried you with me dad. In a book. He was the biggest section of the book. When I get sad I pulled you out and began to reminisce. But I also carried what you did to me. I carried the hair pulling The name calling, slapping and punching. As I lay awake at night, I seemed to have carried the nights with you. The ones where I was locked in the basement The ones where I got one piece of bread for the week But I also carried the good times. I carried the times where we went to the city and watched the stars. The beautiful names you called me. But when it got to be too much, I packed him into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me dad In a book. I carried my sister. Whitney I carried you In a book. This section jumped around. It always started with I loved you Then I hated you. But I always found a way to Love you Again. As I laid awake at night I thought about all the times you could have saved me But you layed in bed with him And disregarded Everything that was happening to me You disregarded me You disregarded everything about me But I always found a way to Love you Again. But when it got to be too much, I packed her into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me Whitney In a book. I carried a child. I carried my child. Even though she came to me Out of hate. I always did love Her section. She came to me in the darkest Of times. I was thankful that I got to hold you. Even if it was just for a breathe. If I could have named her it would have been Rebbeca Lynne I have and always did love her. My sweet child. But when it got to be too much, I packed her into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me child. In a book. I carried an angel. I carried my angel. He came to me at the best times. But he told me something That I never wanted to hear. I was told that in 24 days I was to join him In a world of peace Of happiness And of joy. But in 23 days I learned so much about myself I learned how to escape. But on the last day I did not want to leave. This place sounded so sweet But I wanted to stay and learn. So I ran. I ran as far as I could from him. At the end of the 24th day. He still managed a way to find me. But when it got to be too much, I packed him into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you my angel. In a book. I carried the place. This place was not like any other place. Before I entered this place I was told I would not carry anything from the past. I was told this would be a place of peace Of Happiness And of Joy But this place was not. This place was a room. With no lights. With no sound. Just a room. I could not see 2 inches in front of me. This place had no peace No happiness And no joy. It was just a room. But when it got to be too much, I packed it into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried the place. I carried this book with me. No matter where I went. I carried it with me until the day I died. This book can not be opened. It can not be read. But one day this book will find you. And once you find it You will join me in the basement You will join me in the city. You will join me in the love And in the hate. You join me on the run. You will join me in a breathe. You will join me in the place. But you will never read this book. But when it gets to be too much, You can try to close the cover, then pack the book. But you will never carry this book The book I carried.

0

Dec 18, 2019

Dec 18, 2019 at 6:12 PM UTC

lost_but__found

The Book I carried.

I carried a book. My book was all of the things. I carried you with me dad. In a book. He was the biggest section of the book. When I get sad I pulled you out and began to reminisce. But I also carried what you did to me. I carried the hair pulling The name calling, slapping and punching. As I lay awake at night, I seemed to have carried the nights with you. The ones where I was locked in the basement The ones where I got one piece of bread for the week But I also carried the good times. I carried the times where we went to the city and watched the stars. The beautiful names you called me. But when it got to be too much, I packed him into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me dad In a book. I carried my sister. Whitney I carried you In a book. This section jumped around. It always started with I loved you Then I hated you. But I always found a way to Love you Again. As I laid awake at night I thought about all the times you could have saved me But you layed in bed with him And disregarded Everything that was happening to me You disregarded me You disregarded everything about me But I always found a way to Love you Again. But when it got to be too much, I packed her into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me Whitney In a book. I carried a child. I carried my child. Even though she came to me Out of hate. I always did love Her section. She came to me in the darkest Of times. I was thankful that I got to hold you. Even if it was just for a breathe. If I could have named her it would have been Rebbeca Lynne I have and always did love her. My sweet child. But when it got to be too much, I packed her into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you with me child. In a book. I carried an angel. I carried my angel. He came to me at the best times. But he told me something That I never wanted to hear. I was told that in 24 days I was to join him In a world of peace Of happiness And of joy. But in 23 days I learned so much about myself I learned how to escape. But on the last day I did not want to leave. This place sounded so sweet But I wanted to stay and learn. So I ran. I ran as far as I could from him. At the end of the 24th day. He still managed a way to find me. But when it got to be too much, I packed him into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried you my angel. In a book. I carried the place. This place was not like any other place. Before I entered this place I was told I would not carry anything from the past. I was told this would be a place of peace Of Happiness And of Joy But this place was not. This place was a room. With no lights. With no sound. Just a room. I could not see 2 inches in front of me. This place had no peace No happiness And no joy. It was just a room. But when it got to be too much, I packed it into the book, closed the cover, then packed the book. I carried the place. I carried this book with me. No matter where I went. I carried it with me until the day I died. This book can not be opened. It can not be read. But one day this book will find you. And once you find it You will join me in the basement You will join me in the city. You will join me in the love And in the hate. You join me on the run. You will join me in a breathe. You will join me in the place. But you will never read this book. But when it gets to be too much, You can try to close the cover, then pack the book. But you will never carry this book The book I carried.

125

for three hours i sat in a forest with today's newspaper - Leicester foxes are champs, Corbyn on anti-semitism: don't mentioned ****** or to be precise eva braun, who was a jew, ha ha... and the leftovers of the cantos (30 pages till the end)... i put so much life into that **** book, flowers to be mummified, a su doku square, mirror with shelf installation instructions (richard von coudenhove-kalergi graffitied), a drunk girl's scribbles about a thesis on chocolate... a real Frankenstein of a book should you find it in sotheby's auctioning rare and the macabre of people involved in writing history... i sat there thinking about a black hole in a conversation from friday... who the hell was the last Travelling Willbury? ah... Steve Lynne, the guy from Electric Light Orchestra - also amused by a red pond mite, scuttling on the moon or mars surface that my book represented in a forest environment it's used to... finally in Wales and China... peering at the remnants of rex reptilian... alien, alienation... insects, we're improving our search; insects, yeah, first the reptilians, second the mammals, the last to evolve are insects, aliens - and you will not want to meet a massive fly that spits hydrochloric acid saliva as an inversion of an internalised digestive system, i.e. with a digestive system outside - remaining arguments for an exoskeleton, meaning you have to digest things outside your body to keep up the overall mush inside - forgive the anti-muscular leisure, internal-muscular meaning mammalian; what? you sold me Darwinistic historicity that kinda makes the 19th century irrelevant, or last Sunday... **** you not i'll sell you this; backup monkey chew of an eucalyptus branch and you expose a Chimpanzee baby-sitting a Koala.

0

May 3, 2016

May 3, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

red pond mite scuttling on a book

for three hours i sat in a forest with today's newspaper - Leicester foxes are champs, Corbyn on anti-semitism: don't mentioned ****** or to be precise eva braun, who was a jew, ha ha... and the leftovers of the cantos (30 pages till the end)... i put so much life into that **** book, flowers to be mummified, a su doku square, mirror with shelf installation instructions (richard von coudenhove-kalergi graffitied), a drunk girl's scribbles about a thesis on chocolate... a real Frankenstein of a book should you find it in sotheby's auctioning rare and the macabre of people involved in writing history... i sat there thinking about a black hole in a conversation from friday... who the hell was the last Travelling Willbury? ah... Steve Lynne, the guy from Electric Light Orchestra - also amused by a red pond mite, scuttling on the moon or mars surface that my book represented in a forest environment it's used to... finally in Wales and China... peering at the remnants of rex reptilian... alien, alienation... insects, we're improving our search; insects, yeah, first the reptilians, second the mammals, the last to evolve are insects, aliens - and you will not want to meet a massive fly that spits hydrochloric acid saliva as an inversion of an internalised digestive system, i.e. with a digestive system outside - remaining arguments for an exoskeleton, meaning you have to digest things outside your body to keep up the overall mush inside - forgive the anti-muscular leisure, internal-muscular meaning mammalian; what? you sold me Darwinistic historicity that kinda makes the 19th century irrelevant, or last Sunday... **** you not i'll sell you this; backup monkey chew of an eucalyptus branch and you expose a Chimpanzee baby-sitting a Koala.

51

I remember, when I was young, Gloria Lynne and this song she sung, She sang with perfect pitch: I wish you Love.” It was a light Blues serenade, A song my older sisters played. As I would sip my Lemonade She wished me love. Now that heart of hers, so full of Love Has become one with Him above. So, with regrets, As fate abets, She’s been set free Yet on a certain day in Spring If I should chance to hear a bluebird sing. I may recall That, after all, She wished me Love.

0

Oct 20, 2013

Oct 20, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

She wished me Love

I remember, when I was young, Gloria Lynne and this song she sung, She sang with perfect pitch: I wish you Love.” It was a light Blues serenade, A song my older sisters played. As I would sip my Lemonade She wished me love. Now that heart of hers, so full of Love Has become one with Him above. So, with regrets, As fate abets, She’s been set free Yet on a certain day in Spring If I should chance to hear a bluebird sing. I may recall That, after all, She wished me Love.

21

Solitaire Kathrynne-Lynne Archer 47m · Shared with Public Lady, Send Me The Child Send me the quiet child or the loudest child Send me the chatterbox with a million questions or the child that builds castles in the clouds Send me the child that sees 3 steps ahead and the child who dreams of new worlds and magnificent anima,s who speak and sing Send me the child who weeps at stories and late-night movies or picks dandelions for strangers Send me the broken and needy child Send me the child that hugs and kisses and tells stories to every neighbourhood pet and cries with children he has never met before Send me the child that visits all the elders Send me those that take longer to "get it" Send me those who are here for a short time who need me most Send me the little Mums and Poppas whose hearts always have room . . . Send me those that still tremble and shriek every night Sene me the child of war of abuse of neglect those who no longer speak or hurt themselves in quiet desperation Send me those that see their own rainbows that they may shed light on the world Goddess, please, I will ask naught else, Please send me the children and this I do pledge I promise to treasure them all

0

Mar 28, 2022

Mar 28, 2022 at 7:54 PM UTC

DoyenneSolace

Lady, Send Me The Child

Solitaire Kathrynne-Lynne Archer 47m · Shared with Public Lady, Send Me The Child Send me the quiet child or the loudest child Send me the chatterbox with a million questions or the child that builds castles in the clouds Send me the child that sees 3 steps ahead and the child who dreams of new worlds and magnificent anima,s who speak and sing Send me the child who weeps at stories and late-night movies or picks dandelions for strangers Send me the broken and needy child Send me the child that hugs and kisses and tells stories to every neighbourhood pet and cries with children he has never met before Send me the child that visits all the elders Send me those that take longer to "get it" Send me those who are here for a short time who need me most Send me the little Mums and Poppas whose hearts always have room . . . Send me those that still tremble and shriek every night Sene me the child of war of abuse of neglect those who no longer speak or hurt themselves in quiet desperation Send me those that see their own rainbows that they may shed light on the world Goddess, please, I will ask naught else, Please send me the children and this I do pledge I promise to treasure them all

20