"packard" poems
when I'm high
off the scents of
October night air
and smokey burnt wood
on your shirt
I'll dress up for you,
all satin
and buttons
and lace.
when I'm drunk
from one too many
Gin & Tonics
with purple-spotted moons
stamped under my eyes
and the apples of my cheeks
stained with paths
of saltwater
I'll dress down for you,
all freckles
and scars
and skin.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
by
rgpage
in times long past young lovers dashed
to reach their secret space.
to kiss and ***** and plan and hope
their future's goals are placed.
never mind their path be lined
with unknown strife and pain.
their love is strong they'll carry on
with carefree youthful gain.
they don't see their life to be
past cupid's hot embrace.
as hot breath blends with kiss' deep
young lovers start their chase.
young love is hot and secrets not
shall block their youthful nest.
when young men dare and young girls share
young lovers start their quest.
its saturday night, dad's packard's right
with half a tank of gas.
with comb to hair in the bathroom mirror
he's thinking 'bout his lass.
its only been a week gone past
his greatest dream came true.
he staked his claim, with hopes on high
and pinned his Peggy Sue.
they talked of passages young men take
to cross that great divide.
to walk the way of their father's
and yes to take a bride.
in the grown up world so long past school
the grown ups just don't see.
teen love is true and made to last
the way it was meant to be.
he got on base with his varsity pin,
the base is numbered two.
this place before he'd never been
he hardly knew what to do.
his body went through changes great
his thoughts a swirling brook.
he cupped his prize with shaky hand
when before he could only look.
tonight's the night he's waited for
yes perhaps go all the way.
to walk with those who've beat love's quest
to become a man this day.
the time is ripe as is the night
it's planned in every way.
she won't resist his manly charms
WHAT MONTHLY FRIEND?
how long does she plan to stay?
and what's her visit to do with us
away from the lights of the city?
who is this friend to ruin this night?
his plans be dashed more the pity.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:44 AM UTC
you've always been my
favorite book
never difficult to pick from the shelf
and breeze through.
I have read you
over
and over
one thousand times
and I find things
with each and every read
that I never discovered
in the last.
all of the genres
combined within you;
mystery,
romance,
comedy;
an endless movie
running through my head
with you as the lead role
and I couldn't imagine a life
without you being written
into it.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Mommy always said
I had expensive taste
I guess that's why
your champagne skin
left me drunk
with the empty bottle dangling from my limp fingers.
I must ask,
do you think of me still?
Cover your lips with
honey
before you answer;
sugarcoat it as best you can.
43
tiring days later
and I have yet to master
being able to say your name
under a relaxed jaw.
I wonder if this will get
any easier
to accept; until then,
cheers
to those intoxicating bubbles
soaking up
in your bones' winter quilt.
I'll leave you a glass on the table.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
you stand tall
facing the works of art,
Monet and
Renoir and
Van Gogh
all slowly
consuming your thoughts
color by color,
brushstroke by brushstroke
and you have
the nerve
to ask me
to point towards my favorite
masterpiece;
you pessimist,
you train wreck,
it's always been you.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
they say I'm
a joke
and I wish you would've
stuck around
to hear the punchline.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
cranberry lips masking a serpent's tongue
and the smell of burnt wood on your skin
left me hanging
like a fish from a line,
desperately wanting a taste of
something new
despite how harsh the consequences were bound
to be.
that wild side
sprouting from your bones
sent me on a riot,
and you were not willing to bail
me out
of the mess that it led to.
I must admit
I am congested
from the puffs of soot sleeping
in my lungs;
with my options becoming
limited
all I can do is smoke you out
of the remaining corners
of my body
you've managed to stow yourself
away in.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
gods built homes
in the crook of your neck;
i feel them
every time my teeth
graze the surface,
the sky crumbles
down on their sturdy mountains
and somewhere between
your trembling fingers
settling
the earthquakes
in my bones
and lighting candles
with the fire
from your cheeks,
I lived through real
natural disasters
that not even
Poseidon himself
could wash my brain
with enough salt water
to rid the memories of.
Copyright © 2016 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
it took
the smell
of coffee grounds
and smokey burnt wood
13 days
to finally escape
from the thick fabrics
of my favorite sweatpants
and I promised myself
I'd never let you
burrow away
into the deepest parts
of me
just to keep warm;
23 nights from November
and I'm still digging you out
from underneath my skin.
and that Sunday night
at 12:37 AM;
remnants of
melted rouge kisses
overflowed
from the surface
of the birthmark
on your left shoulder-blade
when I traveled across
the terrains
of every inch
of your back
with my bottom lip;
sweeter
than the sugarcanes in my tea
sending chills
up every bone
in my body
and I knew you
had finally found your home
for the winter.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
bask in the
11 PM
humid June air
with me,
our skin
soaking up the ivories
of Luna's glow
and the stars
sinking into your pores,
leaving my hands
scorched
from their touch.
silver clouds
rising in the sky
holding back their tears,
husky grumbles of thunder
in the distance;
these storms
are nothing,
compared to the things
you start in me.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
ive got sugar
in my breath
and lilies
in my skin
and you have maps
in your bones
to places I've never been.
when 3 am hits
and our voices are mixed
of staggered breaths
and cherry wine
i tell my thoughts
to ghosts in the walls
and your fingers on my lips
while you stumble
to say,
'*please,
you put the oceans
to shame
with the way
you move me*.'
Copyright © 2016 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
aromas
of fresh linen, and
your buttermilk skin
pull me aside
from my late-night talk with the moon;
she needs her sleep,
you say;
and it's time for breakfast.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
*I hate to break this
to you, my dear
but you are no bigger
than the dust
on my bathroom floor
and you say you
still care, but I know
you always
wanted her more.*
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
my tongue is made
of olive vines,
wrapping itself around words
I am unable to describe.
pores made of gold
kingdoms under your rule;
finding life in the stars,
while I still need a stepping stool.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
if you're traveling
on the old country road,
remember me
sitting on the worn out passenger seat
with the beer stains on my collar
and dirt under my nails.
the time for apologies is up
and now I simply long for the
strawberries
nestled up in the skin of your neck
to clash with my briny lips,
and for the six letters of my name to
be the last
rolling off of your tongue for the night.
call me your darling, or
call me a nightmare;
either way,
I'm still left in your mouth
aren't I?
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
The dreamer can see and understand how the mountain may hold out a welcoming hand to the climber who wishes to get to the top
and as the dreamer sees this he also looks at a flat piece of land and sees castles with shimmering towers made from sand.
But the dreamer becomes the dream that's within the fin of a fish that swims by
and the tortoise that sits high on the hog
or the dog with a tick.
Take your pick
there are so many dreams given free
what dream do I see as I look in the toothpaste?
A wasteland and more towers growing out the sand with fingers that tickle me
another fish swimming by in the sea
and golfballs where nobody dances
A room full of romance where the lights all burn dim
one more fin on a fish
I wish it could last
but the best is what passed on the wings of a shirt
or the long flowing skirts of Victorian dolls.
Gangsters and Molls and big Packard cars
Jelly tots that play on the moons circulating like blood round the planets and Mars which is red(so it is said)
even in dreams can't get that into my head.
The dreamer and know it alls
and poets that fall into fantasy and wander free through the white picket fences
offending no one
and offering scope only for white horses and unicorns in freeforming ballet scenes with Jack and his magic beans
have seen but a part of the heart of the matter and that's no matter at all.
Drop off the edge and take a fall with me into a meringue of sheer lunacy and let us see what we see and if it isn't really there
why should we care.
To be fair some people can't understand how a castle made out of sand stands the test of time
with the tide that eats at the feet of the chair but we know it's not there
just imagination and the patience to look and like the words in a book that can conjure up a genie or Jack with a beanie hat or a cat that never sat on a mat but a throne.
These things I have seen and have known and have grown fond of the older I get and the mountain I climb is even yet getting taller
or perhaps it is me getting smaller.
I ramble so slightly
twice nightly
and three times on Bank Holidays
at time and a third.
One day I don't hope to recover my senses
leave me to the horses and white picket fences
I'm happy.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 5:19 AM UTC
your mouth
was a dingy cot
for your old friend
Jack Daniels
to rest
when the air was frosty
and he had nowhere
to go
for the night.
you called it fun,
I called you susceptible;
nevertheless
I always did adore
your caring nature.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
even the moon
slumps its shoulders
in a sort of
deep despair
from your absence.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
tell me how it felt to
watch her put her lips on another.
tell me how it felt to
fall on your knees, and
pray to God
half sober
with the kitchen light on.
tell me how it felt to
wake up the next afternoon
with beer stains on your collar
and ash in your teeth.
tell me how it felt to
stack those bricks around your bones and fight anyone
who got too close.
tell me how it felt
when you met me;
face softened, jaw unclenched,
pulse steady.
tell me how it felt
when you let me in,
how the fires felt
burning away every piece of armor shielding your weaknesses
and you were without water
to put it out.
tell me how it felt to
let me go;
did it leave you scorched in the flesh
and heavy in the head?
my apologies,
that was me.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
an old melody
left hanging
long after the silent noise
swallows the air whole.
the warmth
of pomegranate tea
trickling downward
in an empty stomach.
the wrinkles on cold knuckles,
fresh linen sheets,
honey down my throat.
battle scars;
burgundy lightning striking it's way
up boney knees
from tumbling so **** hard
over the cracked sidewalk.
rain on Sunday.
flakes of frost
emerging from the clouds
finding their way to our scalps;
standing outside, pushed against
fuzzy fabrics
that rest over your chest
saying, 'oh, please
I'm in love
I'm in love.'
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
it was the library
down by the corner
where Oak
and Pleasant Street
crossed every night
that I first saw you.
rugged hands
shifted the pages
of a worn-out Catcher in the Rye
when two spent faces
met one another
like gasoline
sparking up a dimmed campfire.
I took you home;
the sun rose;
and somewhere in between,
when the sheets were dancing
and my fingertips
read your skin
as if it were tattooed in brail
was the moment
I became a writer.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
to think just
118
days ago
I was running miles
through your bedroom eyes
feeling myself
burn up
in your atmosphere
and now
I seem to have forgotten
the taste of those
four letters
of your name
steaming off of my tongue;
those fires you lit
in me
weren't so strong
after all.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
you turned me into ashes;
I'm turning you into poetry.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
I can't honestly say
what I'm trying to accomplish
by spelling out
your name
while bent over the bathroom sink;
short, hot breaths
fogging up the mirror
and the skin around my knuckles
stretching, sparking up bright
white stars
under the chapped surface.
The truth is,
I am running on empty
and broke from spending
all of my sense on you;
one thing
no amount of money
could buy me back.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
I have a few words to say about this bullying that is going on in school's these days. So here goes.
Hello my name is Jesse Packard I am 21 and I was bullied everyday in school and in my regular life. I was in a deep dark time in my life while in school cause I had one friend and everyone... And I mean EVERYONE picked on me because I was short and I was a special needs child. I found that the only thing that would make life better was to **** myself and just leave my loved ones. So I tried but every time I tried all I could see was my family.
At school most of the kids hit me and most of the teachers said horrible things about me. Like how I was going to be nothing and I was gay, and how my family didn't even care that I was alive. I got tired of it and I told a teacher that if he told me I was " to ******* ******** to get my GED" one more time that he would not like the outcome. The next day in first period he walked up to me and said it again. So what did I do I let my anger get to me and I decked him in the face and broke his nose. I then walked out of the school told them all to go to hell. My parents were mad but I told them what happened and my dad hugged me and told me he was proud of me for the first time in my life.
Look at me now I have my GED and I have the job I have been dreaming of. To say that bullying was a good thing I can't do but if it wasn't for it I would not have strived so hard to show everyone that I was going to do what I said I was going to do. I love my family, and most importantly I love my gf and my 5 month old baby boy. I will keep on striving to make an amazing life for my boy and my girl. I will sacrifice all just to know that they are doing well. And my dad told me he was proud of me for the second time when my boy was born. I will never stop giving to my family and I will love them.
I have done everything for my girl and baby boy because I never thought that my love for her and him would knock away all the pain from being bullied in school. I know that this is the girl that I'm going to marry because make me feel like I am enough and nothing less. So if you are being bullied please send me a Private message if you would like to talk about it with a person who knows exactly how you feel.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC