Parkways poems on Hello Poetry

Robert Carroll Spear May 2016

If I am wrong.
If I am wrong.
Woe,
for what is done must come undone.

The ash behind our eyes forgiving guesses, non-English.

Her hands never knowing if A will equal A.

There are few roads to find.
A camouflage repeats the mistake and the sun is brought flowers.

Tragedy

#tragedy

Mel Harcum Mar 2015

All The Crows Are Falling

It’s not over until all the crows
fall from holes opening in the clouds--
sunlight washing cracked concrete white.

I refuse to let your actions fade to static until
the last ca-caw echoes on parkways silent
as the attempted protests of the girls you *****.

I could count five of them by the time I left, yet
none seemed able to open their stitched lips
despite my rallies and strong-worded speeches.

Maybe that’s because you laughed at them, too,
when they threatened to file police reports.
But five years have past since then,

and the rage freezing me from the inside out
has begun to fade, slowly, thawed under
a sun growing steadily more yellow--warm,

my friends always said it would be
if only I would just give it a chance--
all the crows are falling.

#anger #nature #guilt #tw #healing #concrete #revenge #**** #crows #twrape

Nik Bland Sep 2020

In Mourning

Your voice was never mine in morning
You were a bird of later light
And you would smile
Each day
Each day
To say that you’re alright

You needed your coffee
To satiate your internal plight
As hungriness
Would sway
Would sway
Your mood ‘till your first bite

The crunch of butter covered toast
Your taste of the egg whites
You chose the yolks
To stay
To stay
Your breakfast at its height

You’d smile and say good morning
And there you were, my perfect wife
We’d go outside
Parkways
Beach days
Or an afternoon hike

It’s been a month and you’ve gone now
I dream of you at night
I think of you
Always
Always
As tears I consistently fight

I sleep inside our bedroom
I still whisper to you “Sleep tight”
You went in your sleep
No pain
No pain
After fighting with all your might

Your voice was never mine in morning
But you were my sun, so bright
And I find I miss
Your grace
Your face
Amidst the morning light

#routine #love #old #death #passion #breakfast #waking #sleeping

Chloë Fuller May 2015

adulthood

paths are crossed while others are being blocked with road signs
neon lights on parkways blinding eyes
how easily people come and go these days
like sickness
patterns and get learned and forgotten
daily routines lost while olds ones are picked up like broken dishes
gestures and words are re-gifted to the next birthday boy
small fractions of memories stick like band-aids
originality was lost three years ago
love has become re-runs in syndication
eventually the VHS of romance will deteriorate to fuzz and static
running fast from the sopranos to baywatch
not knowing where taste escaped
lips on lips
chewing and spitting
double whiskeys all night and still feeling sober as the world around you falls into a drunken stupor
like silk falling off a soft shoulder
thoughts still present
paranoia growing
cigarettes are starting to be manifestations of thoughts
this one's for my broken heart
this one's because i'm drunk
this one's because it's hot out and i'm bored
when worse comes to worse
sleep is always there
until then
no harness
let's fall
who cares if there's anything to catch us

Tommy Johnson Jul 2014

I Once Looked A Gift Horse In The Mouth And Found It Had Terrible Breath

All I asked for was a little off the top
And if you could top me off
Now I see stupid people with double chins
I'm with stupid t-shirts and kick me signs on their backs
Completely unaware of the indecent truths of the world
Truck drivers stopping at greasy spoon diners, ***** dives
Driving down freeways, parkways, highways, turnpikes and interstates
People eating up the **** the press put on us
Augmented *******
Formaldehyde for our loved ones
Pull the plug, push the plunger
On the tobacconist and his eerie broad shoulders
I asked to french kiss, I was rebuffed and left flat alone in a gazebo
The apathetic drive through worker told her to **** her father with an indifferent look
A bead of sweat traveled down her tempted face
Her moral spindle is low on twine
Her meds are wearing off
The roustabout is now a stenographer after his time in the roundabout and a heave **
Into a case of small pox and a bout with shingles
As the biker gets nursed back to health
And we all slowly decompose

Grace Nov 2021

parkways

my name is grace
that's the name I was given
and I like that name, all the same
I am wired to complain
about the hardships in the rain
of our vain
hypocritical place;
i am grace
~

i dont really know what i was going for here but yeah anyways

Anna Grace Jan 2018

winter feelings

I can see the flaws etched into this withered heart
along with a name you carved.
When I was small I would watch with ideas,’
and it grew within me
reaching out to stretch at the sun
they grow under the skin
ideas,
ideas of love and loss of which I was one.
Now I dream in parkways,
landscapes spreading out behind the lids of tired eyes
I only feel halfway
if I ever stopped,
I may die oh,
staring down this life like the barrel of a gun
yet I can only wonder
if you always knew me best,
watched me become old while I was still young

#personal #winter #coldsademotions

Joshua Sanders May 2018

A Rhythm in Rambling

Walking with the nosebleeds
everyone screams the same thing,
"I don't know what we should do"

Pack your bags, to stay at home
Come outside, it's cool
Flesh talks at the freeway
Pickup games of basketball
"I don't care where we go"

Striped sun burns pale skin
Bugs flit into windowshields
Great gods, the violent ones
Dogs growl on the sidewalk
No one can say anything,
least of all, me and you
"I'm not sure where we go from here"

Don't know how to get there,
cracks line all the parkways
Diving off from upside down
Summer stroked and back logged
Gaining weight with my mouth shut
Early morning break downs
Ohms and outs on the low down
Curly hair wearing glasses
Cut out and bob toothed
"*******," is what she said

Thanks for that, gray green girl
"Impossible," that's what I say

She looks like a bike worn down
I guess that's what it's there for
More days to hit somewhere
Gut punch in the tree house

Fractured bone in my iced tea
A song looped in the land line
Sleepy headed conspiracies

Nodding out to the melodies
Lucid dreams beget nightmares

Bloodline of King Yashayah Dec 2017

Been Around

See I been around the world
Since many different faces of boys an d girls
No tilt or twirls diamonds or pearls
Western culture so sick it Makes me wanna earl
Defenses laid by the hidden brigade
Media always playing charades using us like arcades
Everyday is game day see another ****** done today
Well they wanna call me a racist
But it ain't me it's the news who lays out the traces
Look back n you'll see they used to attack
Black Indian Mexicans and ol' country European
See the game was designed for them to capture your mind
Keep your fighting as long as we fighting
We giving power to the titan energy
Is created from heateaves radiate until
Stings like a ray pay was never meant
To be turned into currency
But we gave em our economic opportunity
Now the weapons places in hand
Cuz everybody wants a demand
Notice mechanical things are turning technical but through my opticals
I see myself a miracle
Talk to the people about corruption
They look at it as comical
So catch my left and right jab
Embrace these formulas into
Medulla made out of my lyrical lab
Powerful paragraphs became a mastered craft
Stay on ya shaft
Clean water turning into a blood bath
From boulevard parkways palaces and aves
Never understood why so much politicians have
Too much money from real estate fake debates citizens minions from the slaves they make
They love to take
Freedom keep you pugnacious until u succumb
To the powers that be giving by their conniving activity I be gravity
Weighin' down evilness with mental telepathy
Shatter me Never me clever me be
Killing all the big corruptions grounds
Build an army soon well be around

Carl Velasco Feb 2018

The Diner

There was love here before.
Some animal on a plank.

Didn't hold for very long.

Rain came often. No one saw.
Puddles formed and dried
at the same times.
Because there was no Occurring.

A restaurant chain
had opened up a franchise
in a stopover, alcoved
by gasoline parkways,
sheeted in neon.

I found it that night
on my way.
Great food.
Great place.
A time to ****.

Strangers cast curious smiles.
Some ask questions about
where you're headed.
I wish we knew
when small talk
butterflies into
big talk. Then we can know.
This is serious.
Someone will learn and,
if I'm lucky,
try on my plans if it fits.

The air conditioning whistles and howls.
Some stereo sounds: a horror show
about doctors malpracticing in purpose.
Gore gore gore.
Filthy good. Feel cranked.
I walk to my jacket and open the door,
sounding the bell.
Night greets me back
its smells.
Menthol and ****.

I am headed north.
But this was great.
Nice time.
Cheers?
Cheers.

#night #stopover #lost

Ivory Hill Jan 2022

Sirius

he's bright and he glistens as he drifts throughout the night sky
illuminating the parkways and buildings

all who have seen him
marvel at him and his magnificent gleam

he's memorable enough for a lifetime
he's a star that dominates the darkest of skies

he's Sirius

— The End —