Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
I fished a movie
hoping to cast a reel
that catches a keeper
hook, line, and sinker
I waded in line
smiling
the tackle box optimism in my sights
butterfly's in my net
visions of a hotrod
I look up at the marque
with a good cast and reel
my boats singing
a song that's hooked on love
I enter the theatre
among the trees
branching towards my spot
such forestry
I race past the mainstream
hotrod in tow
I take to my seat
setting anchor to a fun outing
as the lights abate
skip to my Lou
at bay
watching the cast make a splash

Logan Robertson

8/2/2018
Bus Poet Stop Apr 2015
eye did.   As my prejudices expected, the odd assortment of "characters"were all present and not to be unaccounted for...a romantic comedy on a good Friday, attracts the believers, the well wishers, the ones who think if only the world was.. and I was not re or so tired of life, unemployed, lonely, damaged in some manner of being...

not too many young, just a few... theater darkness is a masque, with a risqué chance of oh no, I've been witnessed by the non-believers.

the infirm with their mobile caretakers and paraphernalia were there.  Odd couples, were there.  If there was one unifying common characteristic, I selected this one.  We all needed haircuts. eye don't know why but it made me think about going to get one's haircut, and the rituals that requires....and it is and is not a bit like being in a almost totally private world inpublic, where you, the individual and some outside force majeure, hairdresser, movie screen engages and temporarily transforms you.  That is why, I, went to the movies on a Friday afternoon, to be transformed and not reformed, in public, in private...
"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
~Later, towards the end~
Alice asks, "Hatter, why is a raven like a writing desk?"
Mad Hatter: "I haven't the slightest idea."
Then Alice disappears back home.*
So why is a raven like a writing desk?
Ravens symbolizes death and to me Writing symbolizes
freedom.
But when you think about it ravens fly-- come and go as they please. Writers feel like that when they write at a writing desk--
come and go as they please.
So maybe there's the answer...
Ravens are free, and a writing desk is a place to be free.
But maybe a raven is also like a writing desk because most good poems deal with some type of grief, or joy...Every good poet deals with issues with life and the grief that comes with death. Every great writer has troubles-- look at; Edger Allen Poe, Dylan Thomas, and Emily Dickerson, just to name a few. Edger often wrote of ravens and drank, Dylan also drank, and Emily was afraid to go outside. We all have troubles, but only a certain amount of people can write about them in poetry and make the words be so beautiful. So maybe in the movie there was no answer, but it all seems to random to have no answer. So here's my answer: Freedom and Troubles, Ravens have/deal with both as well as a writer at a writing desk.
Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?
copyright; McNally Inc. 2010
6/28 Nina McNally
not a poem, just thoughts.
Think back to those days when you were a little person.

remember your father

Think back at how you looked up to him and knew,

remember your father

He may disappoint you but he will ALWAYS be there.

REMEMBER YOUR FATHER
REMEMBER YOUR FATHER
REMEMBER YOUR FATHER
REMEMBER YOUR FATHER
REMEMBER YOUR FATHER
REMEMBER YOUR FATHER

Good or bad,

REMEMBER YOUR FATHER.
If you saw the movie you know the father failed...he didn't fix a hearing aid he inadvertently created a weapon. Love is, failure, -No?
Robert Ronnow Jan 2017
Quiet morning.
Successful surgery.

No tv!
Watch weather.

Do nothing.
Be nameless.

Suppose cows.
Scare crows.

Harmless habits.
Armless robot.

Like a delusion.
A late night movie.

Expect to forget
and be forgotten. Information.

Interstate.
Toilet seat.

How soon after cryogenesis
can one cry or *******?
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--title from a tune by Tommy Turrentine
Sean Hunt Oct 2018
Here on planet earth
we’re all
‘B’ Movie Makers
marketing inanity
flirting with insanity
breaking down reality
seeking peas we cannot see
When we search beneath the cup
we find that
only empty space and air
fill it up
Ainnoot Mar 4
----------------------------------------------------
Your episodes are seasonal
Yet here I am with you
Can’t you see
you’re my favorite show?
You always make a scene  
and give me every reason to go

Your life became a movie
and I was never given a role.
I was hooked since our pilot
Ironic how we’re crashing
You silenced my words
because I questioned your actions

I know you’re happy but
Look at me and this melancholy
These series of events
led to our finale.
--------------------------
I channeled these feelings for you
but lost them as quick as I do the remote.
The audience went missing
The title ,totally stole the show
A little story (experience )
Had booked tickets online for 23rd thinking it was Tuesday ,  reached the theatre in time the ticket checker scanned and told us it was Monday's tickets . :)))
Bought new tickets on the counter , specifying  our preferences for seats and checking for availability both.
Only to enter the theatre with empty seats .
We (me and kids , sis- in-law and son)were the only audience.
Well, the kids enjoyed , and I wasn't bored either .
But the experience was indeed,first .so shared here :))
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash the woman's weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, that formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera slowly backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a silky black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. *****.
Your last words to me
Left like ending credits
Unable to grasp my attention
Long, detailed in darkness
Executed in thanks
You gave a long explanation
Why you had to go
Leaving a numb sensation
Does it hurt? I don't know.
What was your intention
To leave yet linger as though
To cause and relieve the tension
Like the last replay
Of my favourite movie
One I can no longer watch
Because it was the end of our story
Romann May 2018
We went to watch a movie tonight.
no
You and I went to watch a movie tonight.
We were not close, again. You went with your friends. It's understandable.
But I'm selfishly in love.
My heart selfishly belongs to you.
I don't know if I should take the blame for it.

All I ever wanted was to share a moment with you, but now here I am, writing.
And I seem whiny. Again.

Should it hurt? Should you hate me and rip my love away like a band-aid?
Or should I keep living this guilty pleasure of a lifetime?
Tell me please. I'm lost without you. Lose me, so I find my way-- no stay.
Do it. Free me. From doubt, from love. I want you. I can't want you.

What's this gray area? You made it clear.
I'm your friend. Why must I carry this amazing feeling? I love it! Take it away!

If I could hate you, it would be so simple.
But I will never hate you. I am physically incapable of hating you. There's nothing that will make me hate the wonderful person that you are.
But you can hate me. Do it. Despise me like you never despised anyone.

I'll try to come back. I'll ask you to stay. But I can't live this way... even if I want to.
Kiss me goodbye. Take advantage of my feelings to give you an opening and run away. Just don't stick around, or that might not be just a kiss.
Am I of value to you? Then prove it. Do what's best.

As always, in your hands,
That boy who doesn't know what he wants (but does know who he wants)
I'm very lost... I think I'll attempt to stick around again, and if it's too much, then...
MarieAnna Jun 17
Hand in hand you lead me down your path,
Floral vintage dress flowing
Loose curls falling
Average beauty
Unique features
Not high maintenance
Quirky aura
Well rounded
Summer breeze
Scented daisies lining

Lets start the start of this cliche excuse of as story.

Boy meets girl
Mediocre everything, life and story.

Quoting the likes Shakespeare to you philosophically
Whilst listening to some obscure tune.
That leads you to secretly tap into nostalgic themes of your childhood.

In the midst of this you talk about, your lacklustre life, the same friends you've had since school and your mother.

My name doesn't matter,
Wherever we go, I am yours.
Trust me...this story is yours every question I am asked is about you.
Or if it is about me I say something kindly in your favour.
Everything that people know will be through your perception.
Not solid blocks of information.

Thus I refrain from talking too much.
I am just the ethereal dream...

Your hand tightens mine for reassurance
That we both will be led to the "real you"
Gambling every strand of integrity left
They all sense a change in your demeanour
By the end of our "love story"
An epiphany will conclude the chapter between us..
Vanish, I go.

However, I don't want to be just that girl,
Although you are just a boy.
Yearning to become just another man
Yearning to accomplish your dreams,

I am the one whose sole purpose is, is to just encourage you to take that leap.
I float around waiting for you to do so.
......

Into the unknown abyss we walk

Dark chapters of your life come reeling...
You drown in feeling
Your friends begin to question my influence
Your mother says I'm impulsive
Your mundane job becomes a burden
In the box you pencilled yourself in
Alone you erase the walls
Part of me clears away as you are almost there..

This story is nearly complete

Finite

Past angst causes you to collapse
In my clasp you keep walking
Further breaking down the walls you built
Since my lack of presence is "getting under your skin"

I give you innovative ways to begin the art of living
Which doesn't include me anymore, dear.
It’s a fear of mine
Always has been
Since you’ve known me anyway
The very idea of
Being
Being there
Being there… For what?

I laugh hatefully at your lack of comprehension and your surplus of *******

I shiver at the thought of such reality
Being there for you,
Around you,
Near you.
Underneath your breath to kiss you
Dominate my current existence by word, mouth and word of mouth
Or what’s left of it really
In other words, How am I supposed to complete you?
When you’re perpetually at a loss
How a string of pearls adds the final touch.

Or the icing on the cake.
Cherry on top.
Broken promises and placentas
Too much? Not enough
Welcome to my world
I am the girlfriend tightly held by the waist.
I am the spouse with tears streaming for everything
Everything that’s you
Nowadays I’m the widow who never knew the meaning to ‘80s love ballads

And that can’t do for an 80-something shrew
Temporary fragments,
I hope will wither away after a lifetime
Your cheap catchphrases pay me no mind
This may be why I never found you?
I love you

Or maybe I loved the fear of you
As you loved the idea of me..
Co-write daniel archila
Haruharu Jul 2018
Our bodies were shivering.

We held each other.

Surrounded by water, out in the lake.

The thunder and rain crashed around us and I felt your lips on mine.

Our feelings for each other were so real and intense in that moment.

The memories and moments we have will be my favourite movie to watch.
L B Oct 2018
Friend one:
Reads "Rotten Tomatoes"
Always early, parks in a handicap zone

Friend two:
quietly disapproves
knows Friend one walked her dog a mile earlier

Friend one:
moves her car
digs out two waters, chocolate
and back pillow
buys peace and tickets

Friend two:
catches sneeze with *** of tissue
aggravated exchange:
about walking too fast ahead.
“Are you not my friend?  Walk with me!”
Buys popcorn

Friend one: 
  wants seats on the end
for handy bathroom runs

Friend two:
does not want “the blow by blow” of reasons
just not in rafters
sneezes, and says so
trips
spills popcorn on the stairs

Friend one:
Sets up “camp”

Friend two:
holds crap

Friend one:  
Settles in, builds her "nest"
opens water bottles
arranges back pillow
half-a-million napkins
“Want your jacket?”

Friend two:
holds popcorn, helps Friend one with jacket

Friend one: 
  pushes button for her seat back
seat sounds like a ****.

Friend two:
says so, both laugh like fools  
Friend two sneezes loudly, rubs her eyes
loses self in movie

Friend one:
starts to snore quietly

Friend two:
nudges her

Friend one:
(Who is never really snoozing)
runs out to restroom
misses best part of movie
Comes back,
“What happened?”
What happened?”

Friend two:
aggravated
hushes her
takes allergy pill

Friend one:
weeping at the end, watches all the credits
starts her review
apologizing to the kids of theater-cleaning-crew
popcorn, napkins, tissues everywhere

Friend two:  
Sneezes yet again

Friend one:
Knows all the stars--
of friendship

being how she is one :)
Joanne is a best friend from teaching days.  We love movies, wine, and dinner.  Noticing our comfortable routine today, made me smile.  Told her I was writing this.  Everyone should have well-loved friend.  :)
Saint Audrey Sep 2017
Grinding....

Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over

Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner

Grinding...

Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching

It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm

Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces

Grinding...

Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root

My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...

I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself

Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night

Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone

Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits

Grinding
Leonardo Tonini Sep 2018
At the cinema they project a movie
And in that movie at a certain point it's raining
And it's a so realistic rain
That I pull the jacket on
Almost to protect myself
Even outside it's raining, or
Perhaps  not.
It's truth this rain that in a dream we dream
Even when it's raining outside?

*

POESIA 2:

Al cinema danno un film
e nel film a un certo punto piove
ed è una pioggia così realistica
che io mi tiro addosso il giubbino
quasi a proteggermi
anche fuori sta piovendo, o forse no.
E’ vera la pioggia che in un sogno sogniamo
anche quando fuori piove?
Second poem for the Luton Festival.
Azazel Jul 2018
Oh how I miss the rain
in this pourning sunlight
that heats up my bed

I miss the way it sounds
raquezha Aug 2018
This is a story of a girl who goes into the shower
but she doesn't want to changed her clothes

And she's ******* infront of me
oh god please I don't wanna see
cause it's tickles down there in me

and then we're
goin' on a free way
we're goin' on a highway
we're goin' to see a movie
we're goin' to see the stars
and watch the milky way
away from the city lights
oh my eyes see everything
even when it's dark

this is gonna be fun
we're gonna run
away from home
we're gonna run
to a place that we we're never ever
to a place that we we're never ever
to a place that we we're never been before

This is a story of a girl who goes into the shower
but she doesn't want to changed her clothes

And she's ******* infront of me
oh god please I don't wanna see
cause it's tickles down there in me

And she's ******* infront of me
oh god please I don't wanna see
cause it's tickles everything inside of me
Next page