"olaf" poems
Hi
I'm
Anna
And
He
Is
Kristoff
And
I'm
Waiting
For
Olaf
To
Come
And
Make
Kristoff
Realise
That
He
Loves
Me
And
I
Love
Him
Simple
As it is
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
Josteen Yazzi said the Critic should ask his thought
on the matter of great art and literature
What do you know of art and literature, Uncle?
Nothing, he said, I think about what I do not know.
I do not know why people don't like Norman Rockwell.
Norman Rockwell painted the American Dream,
with Indians in it, some times.
I like Norman Rockwell because I know how he felt.
I saw my people live in a good world that vanished.
Magic or other wise, I remember mine,
the way
when I see
Mr. Rockwell's America as he imagined
he had seen it.
Or maybe he painted
what you should have been able to see,
but for wars and Spanish Flu and cattle barons
and reaping machines and steam and electricity.
Olaf Wieghorst coulda painted America ugly, too.
But he didn't.
Literature. I have nothing left to say, Norman Rockwell, maybe he needed a mentioning for some
reader anchored reason.
We have to deal with that more these days.
People with big old dish antennae out there,
rusting after Direct TV got a satellite to see the res,
Some o'the kids build a radio telescope, outa them three meter models,
so we are connected.
Norman Rockwell painted the Peaceful Kingdom,
just like Mr. Hicks and Mr. Kincaid,
not mr klee or mr picaso, they could image hell.
My ma liked That drippy guy, said she could see the swing of things in he's paintings, What's-isname,
Jackson, damshame, Jackson Pollak right?
but the message is in the medium, that's what my Shicheii yoosto say. Art must sing.
So I can play my drum. And she can dance.
When we think nothing about it.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
When we first met, I didn’t think we’d be friends,
but a year later, I couldn’t imagine us being apart.
Sometimes I still wonder if you remember the day we went prom dress shopping together,
in the crisp Florida heat,
and the next night, telling me you’d gotten a new love interest,
a 500 ml purple bottle of Robitussin cough syrup.
I know I’ll still miss you when I take my prom pictures next week,
right in the color you always said made my wavy black hair look best,
or when I keep getting the Google notifications that you signed me up for,
the ones about Olaf and the Frozen cast going to Broadway.
Remember the nights we spent gossiping about the hotties of Pretty Little Liars?
Or the late night sing-a-long pizza parties,
long discussions surrounding your cute Colombian boy,
how you always swore marry in rich to a successful business man.
I don’t know what I was waiting for from you.
After you half-consciously walked out of the room, opened the window to look back in,
just to hurt me, to see the wall that had sprung up between us,
the one you’d always blamed on me, but that we both remember you building yourself.
But from what I’ll always remember,
you were the slippery eel, the leech, in the strength and weakness of my life,
who ****** on my happiness to fill your own open voids and problems,
dragged me away from m life and my friends, to fill your place yourself,
bulldoze me out of my own life, my own home and place.
So, dear eel, continue on.
Swim through and far away,
from the lake, that still yet remains in my memory.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
I saw a sticker on a car coming home from work this afternoon.
One of those "international ovals" that used to indicate a foreign country
like France, Switzerland or, if you believe the TV commercials,
Detroit.
Now they stand for everything from the local swim team
to the driver's favorite species of dog
although pinning it on the driver might be unfair
probably better to say the owner.
The sticker I saw today, and it was a sticker not a magnet,
it was stuck on the window,
was OLF and it made me miss mom more than yesterday,
Mother's Day, did.
OLF stands for Our Lady of Fatima, the local Catholic Church
and it was adorning an SUV of appropriate size and sticker price for these parts.
Mom always called Fatima, Saint Olaf's because everyone around here calls it OLF
so it wasn't her fault.
Every time I, or my wife, politely corrected her she'd reply,
"I know" and then promptly call it Olaf's ten minutes later.
So today waiting for the green light on the way home
a little sadness as St. Olaf's SUV reminded me of mom.
and
I laughed.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Happiness is the sun shining brightly
on a cold spring day.
It's an Olaf that sings
while skipping away.
It's a child's squeal of delight
when being tickled by their mother.
Happiness is accomplishing a hard task
and receiving a reward like no other.
It's the laughter of close friends
with one person who made a joke.
Happiness is getting a question right
even though no one spoke.
Happiness exists everywhere
especially when most needed.
Many people don't think it
but happiness can be repeated.
I wish everyone could be happy
especially when they're most down.
Less muscles are used to smile
than to make a frown.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
Hidden in the shadows bright light
burning red such beauty in sight
Torch-flames in the passionate air
mesmerized by his dancing flare
Darkness fall with scornful thunder
glowing dimly as an ember
caressing heat could still be felt,
making this ice to smile and melt
must not touch the fire they all say
for it could lit a single hay
simply fire and ice can't collide
we could vanish so must abide
Burning coal could slowly go low
could vaporize the winter snow
my passionate fire, holding tight
calming heat with all might
trembling ground of the frozen river
the heart of ice seems to quiver
like olaf said that i adore,
"some people are worth melting for"
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
His eyes are brown,
like a dark coffee.
His hair is dark,
like the night without the moon.
The way he pushes his hair,
Reminds me the waves of the ocean.
His voice makes all my bones shake,
Like there was an earthquake.
When he smiles at me,
I feel like I'm melting.
But, Olaf said it: Some people are worth melting for.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
High on the cliffs above Lake Lachrimose
Lived a dear old woman taunted by ghosts,
Some of her present and some of her past
Hoping that each episode would hurry by fast.
She could not bring to terms of her dear old Ike
Who died by the leeches, gnawing alike.
He went in the water too soon after eating
and soon became a memory that is any but fleeting.
But now she meets Olaf, spoken in lie
He promises pearls, but soon she'll die
by the same way Ike did, eaten alive.
(Based off of The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket)
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
As long as you're sure
He's your Kristoff and not your Hans
Who am I to get in your way?
I'll be loyal
I am your Olaf.
Willing to disappear because
"Some people are worth melting for."
Just as long as he's your Kristoff.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
CLOUDWATCHER
( for David Olaf Carney )
A cloud
gets the ****
Becomes a camel.
Another **** sees it
transform into a dromedary.
Now a kidney!
Then as on a whim
becomes a Picasso
or some such
thing.
Sometime there's
shape and sense.
Sometimes none.
We make up names
for the one's with none.
Here for instance
stolen
from an old religious tract
THE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING.
And here, from the same
"...the cloud of forgetting."
This one
we dub in Ancient Egyptian
"HPRR!"
"rising from....coming into being
itself.:
And this one" "HPR!"
"...to become...to change."
And while our minds run on
the Egyptian thing
why here is Nepthys
Goddess of the Death
that is not
Eternal.
Here Horus
Lord of things to come.
This here cloud
we give the moniker
THE AGENBITE OF INWIT
before it becomes
an Inuit.
Now an anvil and a hammer
in a Black Country summer
"Gie-in’ sum ‘ommer!"
we command it
commanding the skies.
Now here again
a nothing.
Clouds bring forth
not the gentle rain
that falleth from Heaven
but...thought
whatever the mind
imagine.
And here
why here
is a cloud
that is just
a cloud.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
You can see the magic happen,
In every little way,
From when she makes Olaf,
To when they are skating.
When you smile because of Olaf,
When you start to hate Prince Hans,
When Kristoff and Anna kiss,
When Sven acts like a model.
These are the moments,
Our hearts say aw,
We laugh and enjoy,
Cause life is just going by.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
influence can find its way through love and life
writing and power becoming sanctified in a holy box
from you're never going to get anywhere to get on the floor put your hands up
kicked down beaten down with words
somehow between the mix a hero ascended
words and power in fortythree lines
and on and forward (Olaf) sends us into eternity
one day perhaps the words will end
but never can i stop reading them
for if it wasn't for you I would have never started writing poetry
or prose or anything and that's why i need to regard you as a hero
my hero
dear e.e
thank you for creating me anew
i honestly, to any man living or dead, owe my life to you
because I would be nowhere without your words that go on into the Infinite.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
I went to the wake
For dear passed Olaf
cheers buddy
I lost the filter on my mouth
Within 30 minutes
And it was like
I was myself again
I've never been proper
No need to pretend here
I finally spoke with her
The girl with whom I share an ex
And we avoided the subject
It was like a silent agreement
She was so much nicer
Than I thought!
She roared from laughter
As I swiftly rejected
The poor candidate...
Women are cruel
I walked to South Antwerp
Only to recognize
In-And-Out-Of-Jail-Joessef
I did not see your face
I just knew
But you know, we don't have to
Be friends or anything...
Carry on.
I drunk dialed my sister
Who then drove me
To party in a bumfuck town
And it was kind of fun
stop looking, it isn't going to happen
no matter how much you went to my highschool
But the beer was cheap
And the company was good
I'm starting to like this
Single girl deal
come and go as I please
Life's good.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC
sitting down at the library
hunkered down where you can't see
buried deep inside another world
nose in a book a second life unfurled
give me a week and I'll come right back
a hundred pages and a midnight snack
it's just enough to get me through the day
between the lines is where I wish I'd stayed
when the world seems torn and frayed
take a long look inside
and read (read read read)
witnessed the fall of House Atreides
saw Olaf's eye etched below his knees
many a friend to meet along the way
each of us have our own dragon's to slay
whether escape or a place to play
just take a long look inside
and read (read read read)
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
HOW TO MAKE A BREXIT-EXIT PIE
( for David Olaf Carney )
Put in as much
Gove as one can take.
"Not a lot...not a lot noooo
no **** it....that's too much!"
One can make it too toxic!
Sprinkle in enough barmy bumbly
Borisisms
to make one gasplaughchoke
in total disbelief.
Then, come what May...
round up the usual suspected
lies lies and damed lies
enough to fill a "Blunderbus!"
Leave out the petty Pretti one this time out.
Cook on a slow Conservative heat.
Ooops you upped the Auntie
way to high!
Even the lies are becoming
transparent.'
Ouick...more lies more lies more lies!
Oh my good Conservative God they are
becoming see through....what will we do!
Looks a bit burnt about the edges!
Looks decidedly
un-tasty and incredibly inedible.
And when the Pie was open
the liars began to sing!
Oh wasn't that a truly terrible dish
to sit before
the dissed United Kingdom.
Face it - things is looking Grimm!
"The United Kingdom - Le Royaume-Uni
NUL POINTS.....NUL POINTS!"
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
I just want to relive those days again,
When I used to smile genuinely,
Instead of giving a fake tight lipped one.
I want to be the child again,
Who used to get happy,
As if given his favorite cotton candy;
I want to be the mischievous one again,
Who used to give a cheeky- smile & puppy eyes,
On being caught for the little mischiefs';
I want to live my utopia,
Where every thing is just so perfect;
Where Cinderellas' have a happily ever after,
Where a knight in shining armor,
Is waiting for his damsel,
Where Augustus and Hazel become a single soul,
Where partings are never too longing.
I miss my old self,
Who used to believe fairy godmothers are real,
And one day she would meet the seven little dwarfs,
Who would be ready to protect her.
I miss the one little kiddo:
Who would instantly look up at a shooting star,
As if wishing for someone to wake her up,
And take her covertly to meet Olaf,
The one whose banter was enjoyed,
The one whose laugh was contagious.
But now it feels like,
It's all in the past...
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 8:03 AM UTC