"marshmallow" poems
looking at
sedona red
rock layered majesties
against bright, cerulean sky
and marshmallow clouds
droplets dripping, pecking our cheeks
sitting on
the balcony of a casita
holding hands with my peace
surrounded by forest green
and buzzing honey bees
they mingle with the flowers
and i mingle with my peace
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
"Hey, how are you you doing?"
"I'm doing okay..."
I'm okay because I cannot describe all the different ways I'm feeling apathetic.
And I give you that smile that hides all the hairline fractures in my heart.
Every wonderful longing is swallowed alive,
I'm transcending my emotional capacity to live and love.
All my cheer is shallow and without substance,
Naught more than a cooked marshmallow:
Sweet and crisp without any nourishment.
My wretched self allows me to suffer thus.
Isolated when never alone,
Alone when in true love,
Irreversibly broken,
Choking on my frozen dust.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Marshmallow factories
Are covered in goo
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Not all of these
Are going to rhyme
Roses are red
Violets are purple
Whoever wrote that
Was an idiot
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My favorite is Discord
Who used to be Q
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you count in binary
You'll never have 2
Roses are red
Violets are blue
MEEP
Roses are red
Violets are blue, da ba dee da ba daa...
Roses are black
Violets are black
Everything is black
I'm Batman
Roses are blue
Violets are red
Something is wrong
With my head
The Math section is red
Social Studies is blue
I have too much homework
I want to cry
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Please don't get stuck
In the spilled glue
Roses are purple
Violets are green
I'm just here revving
My limousine
Roses are red
They have thorns
Don't touch them
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to turn this
Into a haiku
Roses are crimson
Violets are the fairest blue
And so fair are you
Roses are red
Violets are blue
That was pretty good
For being written on the fly
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Ridiculous Inflatable
Swan Thing
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I need to sleep
No
you are so And
sweet is Sugar
blue are Violets
red are Roses
Roses are red
Violets are blue
There is no try
Do not or do
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dab on those haters
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Think I'll paint them
On my shoe
Roses are red, dilly dilly
Violets are blue
Is this copyrighted, dilly dilly
I have no clue
Lavender's blue
Lavender's green
I store my sanity
In a canteen
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm too cynical
And yet too cheesy
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Spellcheck doesn't know meep?!?
Roses are rosy
Violets are violet
I want to be
A submarine pilot
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Something something
Pikachu
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Illuminati
They're watching you
Gryffindor's red
Ravenclaw's blue
WHY IS IT AN EAGLE
NOT A RAVEN
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Be mine
I'm desperate
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't want romance
Stop asking
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm running low on ideas
We're almost through
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Don't eat too much
Roses are red
Never mind
Life's too short
Eat all the sugar you can find
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're still here?
Good job you
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Happy Valentines Day
Bye
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
There’s a crack in my windshield growing bigger by the day
It’s like a manifestation of the words I want to say
Your calm demeanor disrupts my flow
There’s more to you; there’s more to know
Of all the people I never would have guessed
And I’ve never been good at the marshmallow test
This change of pace I don’t quite get
Please kind sir, are you in love with me yet?
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
You led me to the lighthouse,
squat on the rolling lake of grass.
Beneath the great guard we slid
through the marshmallow heat to the edge of the land.
Pressed into the sand below a blue sky, together we stopped,
and let the lapping water wash.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
EVERYBODY got ‘em a cell phone
pissant with not a nickel to pay his rent got him one
i ain’t got one or the quarter to use this pay phone
sittin’ there behind me waitin' for me to feed it
and hear that jingle like some slot machine that always pays out
temptin’ me like some shiny new toy
but i got two pennies and i ain’t even rubbin' them together
back then, back when nobody had no cell phone
i filed pennies down on the street to make them the size of dimes
when one of them dimes could by me a marshmallow pie
from a vendin’ machine at the bowlin’ alley
that ain’t there no more
but some cell phone store is
but that don’t matter
i don’t want no cell phone
i would like me one of them marshmallow pies
and an extra quarter to give this hungry phone
yesterday, some lady give me three quarters
and i give two of them to Jose to call his mama and sister
he gave me two smiles
i kept that other quarter to make a call
but couldn’t think of no number
or no soul
want to hear my voice
so i give that quarter to a little boy
who was all alone
and didn’t have no cell phone
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 8:33 PM UTC
You made me soft;
A Marshmallow drop that melted sweetness,
and tasted like nostalgia on your tongue
In that place where camps fires smoked and we smouldered,
Orange with a glow
that crackled envy,
I saw forever in those flames.
Just a little tiny taste of eternity
Reaching for me, as I reached for you.
I curled and crisped,
Dribbled into that abyss
and bubbled up in the heat.
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 5:17 AM UTC
He wants a sugar spun girl-
no lemon ***** no licorice, no peppermint.
Hard rock candy.
You gotta be sweet for him to crave you.
Sweet on the tongue, sweet on the eyes
in a package easy to tear, pop, unfold.
He likes it dayglo and with sprinkles,
marshmallow soft,
moldable and meltable ,
milk chocolate, white chocolate.
He shies away from bitterness.
Don't you dare fill him up.
He has a real meal waiting,
somewhere else, later.
Your job is
to be consumed.
What you need doesn't matter.
He wants candy, girl, not a meal.
Better sugar coat it,
or he won’t buy you
and you want to be bought,
don't you?
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
myopic frames on a stern temple remind me that once he too wandered recklessly and felt ardent
empowered by time on his sleeve
there was nothing he couldn't conquer and nothing standing between the open air and breathing it in
i suppose the difference here is i grab the breath of air and hold it in my pocket for when i stop being so nervous
marshmallow heart
the road only goes one way and the streetlights hover and coil eternally, you can never meet the epilogue
a drive-thru drink in one hand while you feel your hair tangling into a mess of a beehive, the one that likes to unwind in soft tendrils on a weak pillow
heart racing for the constant fueling of a near empty tank telling you to go further this time, this time
time isn't yours
holding in a cough
i too have tried to drown waterbugs
my cheek pressed against the tiles of a kitchen floor, hand perched languidly as my fingers make circles in the tiny swamp i made in the middle of the room
but i forget laying there until i hear my own soul walk in with bare feet addressing the elephant in the room, the one that hasn't left since i was sick with bronchitis that winter years ago
and i want to tell her to come here, to come back inside myself so it doesn't feel so cold this season of frost but she brushes me off with the temperament of a child
"i don't exist, i never did" the words dawdle back and forth from her back molars to her incisors
and i remember when i felt like i was dying when i hopped from one state to the next but realizing a little to late that if i were to go back my dread would jump on the back of my shoulders and force me to look it into it's shiny face and show me the mild nuisance of what it means to be alive
so my soul closes the door and i hear the keys rattle and i myself sink into the warm arms of someone i spent my entire life with
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
There's a black cat
walking flat,
his back feet
dipped in
marshmallow droppings.
His tail flicks
like a reed in the swamp,
and he can't
help but run through legs
swiftly
hopping on furniture
daintily
belly all soft and white.
Silent is he,
catching the almost-full moon
in his bright whiskers.
Padded paws,
a black tail snaking
twitching as he
squeezes to rest
in tight spaces
wide eyes as green as
a kiwi fruit
with the seeds cut out.
He bats his toy freely,
ears up then
hears a rustle
at the screen door
and sits
transfixed
but only
for a moment.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
It's annoying
That I write fullest
As the moon is breaking
At midnight noon
And when the stars
Fleck a paintbrush sky.
Annoying because
I want to be
dreaming
In beaming
sun dials and
Marshmallow clouds
Which swallow me up
Into a rosy pearl.
Annoying because,
Just as I do with the words,
I want to escape the day
Which I can't handle and
ramble
in happy
Nothing.
But this
form of
Escapism
makes me sleepy
and the creeping,
Inescapable day
Ever more... difficult
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I'll paint my ceiling lilac
Make it twinkle with flashlight stars
I'll build a cardboard spaceship
We can fly to our orange peel mars
You'll call me your astronaut
As I pull you up to the swirling sky
Explore every marshmallow whirl
As I fall for your acorn eyes
Our bodies will be constellations
Limbs and breaths intertwined
Our souls are dot-to-dots connected
Heartbeats rhymth aligned
I painted this dream for us
Used a palette made for you and I
Every brushstroke will be worth it
You're my favourite lullaby
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Like burning marshmallow,
the clouds this Monday.
Thumb over the phone
& the words to you pop
& sway like gin pink
with bitters. Lily lady,
O my lily lady,
kiss me marshmallow -
sticky and tinted pink
with lip on a rainy Monday.
Green window pops
arrive on my phone,
this sweet black phone
that brings you, my lady,
over Atlantic's salt pop
& volted marshmallow.
So on this Monday
when the sky draws pink,
& clouds too are toasted pink,
I take this thin phone
and find you. On this Monday,
my Dublin lady,
under a melting marshmallow
sky, I seek out your hot pop,
that flame that's popping
in the twilight, red and pink.
Sweet as marshmallow,
you burn through my phone,
my smiling lily lady,
even on a Monday.
& so this Monday
like a soap bubble pops.
I'm inspired, my lady,
by the silken pink
thing. On your phone,
a swan's wing of marshmallow.
Yes - Monday's poem comes pink,
& pops with phone messages
from my lady, soft as marshmallows.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
There's something about her
That gets him caught up in his words
That gets him three feet off the ground
That gets him chirping like the birds
There's something about her
That makes him stop and stare for a while
Could it be those ****** little eyes
Or that irresistible smile?
There's something about her
Must be her sweet, marshmallow scent
She's a priceless jewel, crafted with extra care
She could be my lady, I could be her gent
There's something about her
An angel sent from above
Her gentle touch and delicate skin
No wonder I'm falling in love
There's something about her
I may not know it yet
But she's everything I could ever dream about
The greatest girl I've ever met
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
I want to split you in two,
tickle your cherry stem
& sprinkle you with sugar drops.
I've thought about marshmallow,
some vanilla cream
on top of your lemon tarts
& rolling my tongue
to spread it.
Honey dripped onto your flower
would be tastier than flaked-baklava,
a little whipped cream
& nuts would certainly
finish you off.
But I do dream of stuffing your pastry
with my creme-filled cannoli.
That would be the ultimate dessert,
don't you think sweet lady?
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
the girlie man of Australian politics
had the term coined just for him
the tough man Arnie Schwarzenegger
from California was thinking of him
Bill Shorten is a *****
when it comes to fiscal matters
that's why his statements
on the budget are all in tatters
soft approaches toward
spending will never do
the nation's finances are in need
of a tightening *****
the treasury office stats
don't mislead of go awry
a salient tale they tell
about a well running dry
there are no Jesus Christ figures
in Canberra to divide the loaves and fishes
a certain amount is in the nation's war chest
which must fulfill the people's many wishes
the Shorten alternative economic policy
has great sieve holes in it
the nation's well being under it
would be rendered unfit
at the end of the day
the taxpayer always pays
so the ledger should be in balance
without any stalling delays
fiscal responsibility
is good for a nation's health
marshmallow centered Shorten
has no interest in stock piling our wealth
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
when i was younger, this boy used to tease me about my skin color;
how much it resembles coal,
and how it makes me look like an Aeta,
and how they can't see me in the dark,
but even before that i was insecure.
because when people bothered to look at me,
they'd only see ebony
and to them it was synonymous with ugly and *****
but i don't blame them.
they're just caught in the current of colonialism
when we measured one’s status through the hue of their skin
and we followed.
we followed their discrimination of the ones whose skin didn't look like the exact duplicate of ivory and marshmallow.
we followed their system of supremacy of putting the lighter ones up in the stars to match whiteness with brightness.
we followed their standards of beauty which just happened to be the exact ******* opposite of our majority.
now our country is driven mad
by the idea of whitening your skin
until your heritage is nowhere to be seen;
it has been scrubbed off by papaya soap,
masked by glutathione
and devalued by insults.
but hey,
who cares about heritage if you look like that European actress?
who cares about culture when you could pass off as an American?
who cares about natural brown when synthetic white wears the crown?
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
A fire's burning somewhere in the darkness.
I once sat in its light, but was drawn away
as swiftly as a shadow flees the sun.
I remember the flames dancing, burning,
turning dead wood into gold before my eyes,
the sparks jumping and zigzagging into the sky
like so many souls ascending to heaven,
wishing,
for once,
to be the stars they once gazed upon,
and wondering if maybe,
just maybe,
they could be remembered.
If they could shine upon the earth forever,
living as reflections in the eyes of those soon to join them.
Crackling into the night,
holding the darkness at bay just a little while longer,
shielding the hearts around it from their own shadows.
I don't know if it's still burning,
or if it has already submitted to the darkness,
as all fires do eventually.
But I will remember them, those flames,
burning as a last defiance to the darkness.
And to those souls in waiting,
I hope for you safe travel.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 1:04 AM UTC
Shoes crunch onto the trail
Between the fences
Shortcuts, one of the wonders of life
Like discovering
the taste of a marshmallow
School is ahead
People, large hulking guys
Sweet smelling women
Teachers, mostly nice
Children mainly rousing
Stir fears, challenges
Sensations like one gets
When discovering a compelling
Book at the city library
Hand-in-hand
Meeting the day
Sibling love
Even better than marshmallows
Sep 6, 2022
Sep 6, 2022 at 8:37 AM UTC
Saturday,
A blank slate placed in front of an adventurous child
My imagination took me across the globe,
While my feet danced across my backyard.
Freshly cut grass grew into a weeded jungle,
Only a six year old could appreciate.
The sun was only a summersault away,
And I reached up to the sky with my stubby fingers
To form marshmallow clouds into pirate ships, and circus animals
Back when the moon was made of swiss cheese and superheroes really could fly
No one dared to whisper the word ‘impossible’
To a boy who feared nothing
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
Melted marshmallow
Kisses
And
Hershey hugs
Are what you’re made of
A smore delight
A part of my desperate appetite
You starve me
And turn into
A cheater
A liar
A schemer
Graham ******* smiles crumble
Your kiss
My mouth
Diseased with regrets
A loss of innocence
A stolen breath
Poisoned my heart
Sugar coated truths gave me the stomach flu
But I still love you
Because I can’t stop thinking of...
Your
Marshmallow kisses
And all the sweet things
You used to be made of.
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 3:43 AM UTC
oh, **** i'm so full of love it's spilling out of me
like bullet wounds, like i've been court martialed,
like i'm the pinpoint of a broken sheet of glass,
the part from which everything else shatters;
of course i'm the centre of the universe,
who else would be? who else could love this way,
fierce and terrible and hating? who else other than me
could break the universe for another chance at hello
or at two thousand and nineteen?
which isn't to say i'm manic. which isn't to say
that i don't cry in the shower and scream in the car.
i do. but when i do, i'm the main event;
nobody booked tickets to see anybody but me here.
don't kid yourself, world. don't make me laugh.
don't act like everything is okay when i'm breaking the baby-bird bones
of my fingers every time someone else talks.
me, the human stress ball.
me, twenty stories tall and universe-filled with love,
nothing else can even come close. i'm ******* godzilla,
i'm interplanetary, i'm that giant ******* marshmallow man
from ghostbusters getting shot at by the heroes.
maybe there's just too much of me to love the way i need
to be loved; completely, obsessively, like an illness.
oh, god, i want to be loved like i'm sick.
not just another hospital bed but the whole **** ward
all for me. all eyes on me. nobody looking anywhere but me
and *oh, please, i'm fine, really,
i don't need all this attention.*
like i'm daring the world to divert it away.
a birthday list of gifts:
- a fifth of whiskey
- a gun with one bullet
- the attention that people get from the crowd below before they jump off a building
i don't think i'm asking for too much here.
i feel like i'm one of those unlucky ******** born on christmas day
who get half the presents for twice the occasion.
how cruel must god be to birth me anywhere but eden,
into a world where other people exist,
where we have jobs and say hello to store cashiers and divide up our attention like slices of mandarin.
so where's this revolution i ordered?
where are the people making me important?
i need a cause to lead and a muzzle for my heart,
and i'll burn on and out,
not like a star, but like the end of the ******* universe itself.
and here i am, acting like i matter
when i really only want to matter to you.
i don't care how you want me to revolve
as long as i'm a lone moon. as long as the tides
are all mine; see, it's a lot more complex
than me playing easy villain or anti hero. it's not
been about me this entire time.
but i can't write poems about any other subject.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
Come with me to a marshmallow island,
where reality's sticky but the imagery's great,
and we can live life in reverse,
and we can make love in reverse,
and whatever we can do we can float on through,
because we have invented an ocean in kerosene blue,
Come with me to a marshmallow island,
'till the ocean consumes us along with the trees and the people,
and creatures that comforted us,
will be long gone, dead and diseased,
peak.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
drunk and confused,
hands stumble in the dark:
thigh,
waist,
move up the arm,
fingers in her hair,
god, she's so soft
she smells like marshmallow creme;
tastes even better
hand on the cheek
smile and giggle through the kisses
we're holding hands with fingers locked tight
can't get enough of each other
i don't want to pull away
but i want to see her face again,
i want to tell he how much i love her,
want to count her endless freckles again, stop at sixty-four
kiss her eyelids
note how long her beautiful, light eyelashes are
kiss her on the mouth again
and again and again and again
can't stop smiling
don't want to stop smiling,
falling,
hard,
fast,
out of control
i want this forever.
i want her forever.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
there's this boy,
dark hair, light-brown skin,
his eyes warm like a campfire,
with my melting marshmallow heart,
my fever for him grows, i love him,
squished between the graham crackers of guilt,
because i love her as well.
-lilac
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC