"penciling" poems - Hello Poetry

i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates 1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"* 1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true 1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family' 2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"* 2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried

0

Oct 15, 2015

Oct 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC

TomLeveille

there are only dates

i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates 1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"* 1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true 1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family' 2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"* 2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried

91

Descending faster and faster into nightfall The cool darkness enveloping me, comforting me, caressing me The black sky like silk wrapping around me as I fell further, further. Speckles of stars splattered across the night’s canvas, penciling in the constellations, weaving an intricate web to catch me as I fell further into the depths of the night. Cooing winds spun all around me, whirling in playful cyclones in and out of the web of stars. I smile as I fall deeper into the night, perfectly content. As has always been, as always will be.

0

Dec 25, 2015

Dec 25, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC

kiley-beck

Nightfall

Descending faster and faster into nightfall The cool darkness enveloping me, comforting me, caressing me The black sky like silk wrapping around me as I fell further, further. Speckles of stars splattered across the night’s canvas, penciling in the constellations, weaving an intricate web to catch me as I fell further into the depths of the night. Cooing winds spun all around me, whirling in playful cyclones in and out of the web of stars. I smile as I fall deeper into the night, perfectly content. As has always been, as always will be.

15

darling please come inside I've never seen it with my own two eyes but I can imagine you igniting your addiction with a flick inhaling the smoke are you trying to start a fire in the bottom of your lungs? or keep one burning? I might ask you one day when you're looking up at the sky memorizing the constellations once more you may close your eyes then are you trying to create a universe between your rib bones? penciling in stars like letters writing a book of expanding//contracting beginning//ending with each breath starting the same way it finishes until the point of collapse darling please come inside it's so cold your veins may freeze is your addiction keeping you alive? or is it killing you from the inside? it took a part of me once your addiction was once another's it left with him and took a piece of me with it I've never been the same and I'm getting tired of looking at hospital walls but I can't tell you that I've seen the inferno behind your eyes that you're so desperately keeping alive so I simply say "hurry back" instead of "darling, please come inside"

0

Dec 25, 2013

Dec 25, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC

elise-3

Cigarettes

darling please come inside I've never seen it with my own two eyes but I can imagine you igniting your addiction with a flick inhaling the smoke are you trying to start a fire in the bottom of your lungs? or keep one burning? I might ask you one day when you're looking up at the sky memorizing the constellations once more you may close your eyes then are you trying to create a universe between your rib bones? penciling in stars like letters writing a book of expanding//contracting beginning//ending with each breath starting the same way it finishes until the point of collapse darling please come inside it's so cold your veins may freeze is your addiction keeping you alive? or is it killing you from the inside? it took a part of me once your addiction was once another's it left with him and took a piece of me with it I've never been the same and I'm getting tired of looking at hospital walls but I can't tell you that I've seen the inferno behind your eyes that you're so desperately keeping alive so I simply say "hurry back" instead of "darling, please come inside"

39

I painted the bedposts and bedside whiteboard beside the baseboard, the outlet occupied by a power cord, the bookshelf, both coffeemakers, the power strip duct-taped to the brick wall, the bush outside, the sidewalks, the brick, the steel fences separating traffic babble from pedestrian small talk, then filled the wall in, gave the oak posts enough depth to hold up four coats, a backpack, and a shoe lace, swirled in the condoms and coffee rings inside the microwave, sketched a Sears Apple-Jack-colored record player plugged in, turning dusted Beatles records like the cosmos, like the snow, squirrel- hair, and leather-leaf bush outside. I masked off the concrete, the asphalt, and construction yard sidewalks, penciling dead mosquitoes in the cracks and $2.39 Rock Salt Slush along the edges. I measured the fence, so each stake hit the vanishing point like cigarette butts in cement cereal bowls of cat litter. But I ran out of paint before I could fill the mouths of motorist **** yous*, the car barks chasing dogs to the chain-link guard rail, doorbells and mailbox flags being flipped up, pay phones clashing on metal receivers, church bells, footsteps, some guy breathing, and a red-light button Wait. Maybe it’s for the best.

0

Mar 5, 2015

Mar 5, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC

christopher-cizek

Overly Large Canvas

I painted the bedposts and bedside whiteboard beside the baseboard, the outlet occupied by a power cord, the bookshelf, both coffeemakers, the power strip duct-taped to the brick wall, the bush outside, the sidewalks, the brick, the steel fences separating traffic babble from pedestrian small talk, then filled the wall in, gave the oak posts enough depth to hold up four coats, a backpack, and a shoe lace, swirled in the condoms and coffee rings inside the microwave, sketched a Sears Apple-Jack-colored record player plugged in, turning dusted Beatles records like the cosmos, like the snow, squirrel- hair, and leather-leaf bush outside. I masked off the concrete, the asphalt, and construction yard sidewalks, penciling dead mosquitoes in the cracks and $2.39 Rock Salt Slush along the edges. I measured the fence, so each stake hit the vanishing point like cigarette butts in cement cereal bowls of cat litter. But I ran out of paint before I could fill the mouths of motorist **** yous*, the car barks chasing dogs to the chain-link guard rail, doorbells and mailbox flags being flipped up, pay phones clashing on metal receivers, church bells, footsteps, some guy breathing, and a red-light button Wait. Maybe it’s for the best.

34

Her beat had been so bastardized that a tree had grown to protect it; To harbor silence in pandemonium. Isolation was the only remedy to a disease persistent to turn past into present, So she grew on her own terms, and her heart beat for no one but herself, Because to let someone in, meant to risk axing away at the barricade she had worked so arduously to withstand. When she fell into him the first time, the wounds were preemptive. Her brittle bones cast away at the hopes that he would see her heart before her mind; From which idiosyncratic branches wrapped around her fingertips, And the oak shards springing from within, just barely inching away from his own heart. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem to mind. When he stripped to bare back the scars were evident, They cascaded from collarbone to the dip of his hip. That’s when he brought her closer and whispered marvelously: “I would bleed again for you.” At the beginning, the boy hurt, Yet he still saw the heart it held between the prongs of wooden cage. So he continued to hurt, for her. His mission rooted in the purpose of painting her the canvas of what life ought to be. Penciling in the possibility of a reality where her aching shoulders could be lifted, And a new smile plastered onto her lifeless frame. He painted her in the image of who she used to be- As if he knew her before she grew weary at life’s expense. In the canvas, the wooden cage had disappeared, and a luminosity introduced itself. He had uncovered her heart, and no longer was it encompassed by a shell, but freely beating; Beating for him. Every morning, day in and day out, meters of her branches gradually retracted, And the boy’s scars gradually sealed over. Oddly enough, it seemed as if they had healed each other. That the quiet embraces they held each night didn’t pierce him, but rather comforted his mind that this time, it would be different. Somehow, she would come to love him, and him, her. She saw in him a soldier; whose battle wounds were ghastly. He had lived through hell and came back to dispel the stories, But instead of stories of agony and woe, and anger and spite, He spoke of the morning dew on dandelions reflecting the sun’s rays and how they most beautifully sprung from nothing. He spoke of the quiet whispers of the wind bringing music to deaf ears. He spoke of how if you listen closely, you can almost hear each cricket sing its song in a field of thousands. Each time he kissed her, he did as if it were the last. Each time he held her, he did as if she were asleep. Each time he healed her wounds, he did as if they were preemptive.

0

Feb 8, 2021

Feb 8, 2021 at 12:55 PM UTC

brettbonnete

these preemptive wounds

Her beat had been so bastardized that a tree had grown to protect it; To harbor silence in pandemonium. Isolation was the only remedy to a disease persistent to turn past into present, So she grew on her own terms, and her heart beat for no one but herself, Because to let someone in, meant to risk axing away at the barricade she had worked so arduously to withstand. When she fell into him the first time, the wounds were preemptive. Her brittle bones cast away at the hopes that he would see her heart before her mind; From which idiosyncratic branches wrapped around her fingertips, And the oak shards springing from within, just barely inching away from his own heart. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem to mind. When he stripped to bare back the scars were evident, They cascaded from collarbone to the dip of his hip. That’s when he brought her closer and whispered marvelously: “I would bleed again for you.” At the beginning, the boy hurt, Yet he still saw the heart it held between the prongs of wooden cage. So he continued to hurt, for her. His mission rooted in the purpose of painting her the canvas of what life ought to be. Penciling in the possibility of a reality where her aching shoulders could be lifted, And a new smile plastered onto her lifeless frame. He painted her in the image of who she used to be- As if he knew her before she grew weary at life’s expense. In the canvas, the wooden cage had disappeared, and a luminosity introduced itself. He had uncovered her heart, and no longer was it encompassed by a shell, but freely beating; Beating for him. Every morning, day in and day out, meters of her branches gradually retracted, And the boy’s scars gradually sealed over. Oddly enough, it seemed as if they had healed each other. That the quiet embraces they held each night didn’t pierce him, but rather comforted his mind that this time, it would be different. Somehow, she would come to love him, and him, her. She saw in him a soldier; whose battle wounds were ghastly. He had lived through hell and came back to dispel the stories, But instead of stories of agony and woe, and anger and spite, He spoke of the morning dew on dandelions reflecting the sun’s rays and how they most beautifully sprung from nothing. He spoke of the quiet whispers of the wind bringing music to deaf ears. He spoke of how if you listen closely, you can almost hear each cricket sing its song in a field of thousands. Each time he kissed her, he did as if it were the last. Each time he held her, he did as if she were asleep. Each time he healed her wounds, he did as if they were preemptive.

44

Threads of cotton corkscrewing through blankets, blending flesh with fabric. Flicking rain drops off the surface of window panes, penciling my name over your skin with my teeth. Tremoring fingers tracing your silhouette, sensing your rapture wrapped in apprehensive heart beats, hanging on the fibers folding over our unstitched bodies

0

Jan 18, 2014

Jan 18, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC

asch-veal

In the Altogether

Threads of cotton corkscrewing through blankets, blending flesh with fabric. Flicking rain drops off the surface of window panes, penciling my name over your skin with my teeth. Tremoring fingers tracing your silhouette, sensing your rapture wrapped in apprehensive heart beats, hanging on the fibers folding over our unstitched bodies

27

I know that you see me. I know, because I count the times you look at me. Begging for the smile or the glance That responds to the bad joke I made behind you. I spend too much time penciling my eyebrows, And I say your name when I can To see if you turn or laugh. I am not the quiet damsel that needs to be saved from a dragon In fact, I would probably be too embarrassed to ask for help. But I will be the one to tell you that elephants cry And that the world is not as big as it seems And that I love it when you smile. I want you to know that I knit And that I dance to ***** music And I am not hard to get. I am not the beauty that needs to be chased after. I am the odd looking bird off the side of the road That may not be a soft decoration but more of a device of entertainment Reminding you of what a life it could be. I will ****** you with my knowledge of Star Trek and Doctor Who. I am constantly lost, needing to be found because I forgot to charge my phone. I am a girl with many faces, and smiles and opinions I am a girl who plays it tough. I am a girl who is not quiet. Rather, I am a girl who is quite loud.

0

Sep 24, 2014

Sep 24, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC

losthappyendings

Too Loud To Be Seen

I know that you see me. I know, because I count the times you look at me. Begging for the smile or the glance That responds to the bad joke I made behind you. I spend too much time penciling my eyebrows, And I say your name when I can To see if you turn or laugh. I am not the quiet damsel that needs to be saved from a dragon In fact, I would probably be too embarrassed to ask for help. But I will be the one to tell you that elephants cry And that the world is not as big as it seems And that I love it when you smile. I want you to know that I knit And that I dance to ***** music And I am not hard to get. I am not the beauty that needs to be chased after. I am the odd looking bird off the side of the road That may not be a soft decoration but more of a device of entertainment Reminding you of what a life it could be. I will ****** you with my knowledge of Star Trek and Doctor Who. I am constantly lost, needing to be found because I forgot to charge my phone. I am a girl with many faces, and smiles and opinions I am a girl who plays it tough. I am a girl who is not quiet. Rather, I am a girl who is quite loud.

25

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you You make my blood boil You make my fists clench My eyes squint into a scowl when I see your smug smile lips curled teeth bared slandering my name Go on ahead! I know I am not to blame for all the late nights of confusion and all the moments of obsessive intrusion You twist the story say I'm no better Leaving on my doorstep a grammatically incorrect letter Ah, nothing makes my skin crawl more than the improper use of "you're" "your a liar" "you never take responsibility for you're actions" God, I don't know where I ever found attraction! You can condemn me all day to hell but at least I know how to ******* spell! You say that I make you absolutely sick doesn't mean much coming from a wannabe preppy pretense of a ***** Delete my number from your phone Get a life and leave me alone Stop penciling paragraphs full of mean and spite saying you don't know how I sleep at night Well, the joke's on you I don't actually sleep And I don't miss your stupid Jeep I literally have my own. Again, put down your phone and pick up a book because being a ********* isn't exactly a fallback career You got that? Have I made it clear? You can go assassinate my character to your nonexistent group I'll just be ranting to my poet friends on an online website everyone can see.... oops

0

Dec 5, 2019

Dec 5, 2019 at 11:59 PM UTC

gracehaak

Goodbye, good riddance

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you You make my blood boil You make my fists clench My eyes squint into a scowl when I see your smug smile lips curled teeth bared slandering my name Go on ahead! I know I am not to blame for all the late nights of confusion and all the moments of obsessive intrusion You twist the story say I'm no better Leaving on my doorstep a grammatically incorrect letter Ah, nothing makes my skin crawl more than the improper use of "you're" "your a liar" "you never take responsibility for you're actions" God, I don't know where I ever found attraction! You can condemn me all day to hell but at least I know how to ******* spell! You say that I make you absolutely sick doesn't mean much coming from a wannabe preppy pretense of a ***** Delete my number from your phone Get a life and leave me alone Stop penciling paragraphs full of mean and spite saying you don't know how I sleep at night Well, the joke's on you I don't actually sleep And I don't miss your stupid Jeep I literally have my own. Again, put down your phone and pick up a book because being a ********* isn't exactly a fallback career You got that? Have I made it clear? You can go assassinate my character to your nonexistent group I'll just be ranting to my poet friends on an online website everyone can see.... oops

46

She's inbetween the tattered cloak of clouds On her pedastool, breaking necks on high Full, with piercing white gaze she calls to me The night sky bends, her light is will As the smokey valleys of obscurities Evaporate into thin memories of yesterday Silent now, penciling away her secrets.

0

Feb 10, 2017

Feb 10, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC

devin-ortiz

Loving Lunatic

She's inbetween the tattered cloak of clouds On her pedastool, breaking necks on high Full, with piercing white gaze she calls to me The night sky bends, her light is will As the smokey valleys of obscurities Evaporate into thin memories of yesterday Silent now, penciling away her secrets.

7

if i am fine you are fine like words written on the lines of your lips i will taste the way you heard me speak and watch the home videos of our time together in the reflection of your eyes. penciling in our heights on the walls trying to see who could reach the ceiling first if i am fine you are fine

0

Oct 15, 2015

Oct 15, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC

september

woodstove

if i am fine you are fine like words written on the lines of your lips i will taste the way you heard me speak and watch the home videos of our time together in the reflection of your eyes. penciling in our heights on the walls trying to see who could reach the ceiling first if i am fine you are fine

10

Safe passage to the young soldier fighting the war .. Godspeed to a young romantic thats found his true love .. All due clarity to the poet on that carrier , penciling his diary for a later time ... Many blessings to the young runaway , may she come to terms with her quandary in life .. May the geese high above this coach be Angels in disguise ... I pray that the destination for these occupants will shine glorious light in an otherwise troubled night ....

0

Jan 8, 2016

Jan 8, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Passing a Greyhound This Afternoon

Safe passage to the young soldier fighting the war .. Godspeed to a young romantic thats found his true love .. All due clarity to the poet on that carrier , penciling his diary for a later time ... Many blessings to the young runaway , may she come to terms with her quandary in life .. May the geese high above this coach be Angels in disguise ... I pray that the destination for these occupants will shine glorious light in an otherwise troubled night ....

6

Keep truth bottled up in a pen It awaits escape Pensively Penciling about the day It will get to show its face

0

Sep 26, 2019

Sep 26, 2019 at 12:41 AM UTC

DAF

Ballpoint

Keep truth bottled up in a pen It awaits escape Pensively Penciling about the day It will get to show its face

5

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved; Great lines, something to think about (Edward Thomas) Woke up to the rain and the wind beating on my window pane, Yet I thought of getting dressed and going there. A subway system, so far not yet up to standards, A job like mine, no one need to hurry too A mindset like mine, meant for me to lay low during the northeaster...rain and wind Poor yet full of pride, I am the servant Queen, Yesterday, I struggle to maintain my sanity Due to working conditions: at the workplace I have been feuding for years. Nothing changes not even an added penny, before its death, More work, more stress, no respect Night supervisors, penciling or rather maneuvering into the darkness at six am. A street crowded with overturn bins, Flooded streets, with mudded running water Mother of Nature, another dangerous disaster? You meaner than corvid and Alaska, I am the servant Queen, poor, yet full of pride: I am fed up with others trying to take me for a ride Sometimes, you just need a break from a bad situation Never, berate yourself for giving expression to your emotions. Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;(Edward Thomas) line I planned to stick, to my believes, nothing will change, I will always be the servant Queen, as longs as them reign:

0

Oct 26, 2021

Oct 26, 2021 at 1:44 PM UTC

darknbeautiful-1

Colder than Alaska

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved; Great lines, something to think about (Edward Thomas) Woke up to the rain and the wind beating on my window pane, Yet I thought of getting dressed and going there. A subway system, so far not yet up to standards, A job like mine, no one need to hurry too A mindset like mine, meant for me to lay low during the northeaster...rain and wind Poor yet full of pride, I am the servant Queen, Yesterday, I struggle to maintain my sanity Due to working conditions: at the workplace I have been feuding for years. Nothing changes not even an added penny, before its death, More work, more stress, no respect Night supervisors, penciling or rather maneuvering into the darkness at six am. A street crowded with overturn bins, Flooded streets, with mudded running water Mother of Nature, another dangerous disaster? You meaner than corvid and Alaska, I am the servant Queen, poor, yet full of pride: I am fed up with others trying to take me for a ride Sometimes, you just need a break from a bad situation Never, berate yourself for giving expression to your emotions. Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;(Edward Thomas) line I planned to stick, to my believes, nothing will change, I will always be the servant Queen, as longs as them reign:

27

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved. Great lines, something to think about (Edward Thomas) Woke up to the rain and the wind beating on my window pale, Yet I thought of getting dressed and going there. A subway system, so far not yet up to standards, A job like mine, no one need to hurry too A mindset like mine, meant for me to lay low during the northeaster...rain and wind Poor yet full of pride, I am the servant Queen, Yesterday, I struggled to maintain my sanity Due to working conditions: at the workplace I have been feuding for years. Nothing changes not even an added penny, before its death, More work, more stress, no respect Night supervisors, penciling or rather maneuvering into the darkness at six am. A street crowded with overturn bins, Flooded streets, with mudded running water Mother of Nature, another dangerous disaster? You meaner than corvid and Alaska, I am the servant Queen, poor, yet full of pride: I am fed up with others trying to take me for a ride Sometimes, you need a break from a bad situation Never berate yourself for giving expression to your emotions. Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;(Edward Thomas) line I planned to stick, to my believes, nothing will change, I will always be the servant Queen, as longs as them reign:

0

Nov 20, 2024

Nov 20, 2024 at 11:11 AM UTC

darknbeautiful-1

Down Hill I came

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved. Great lines, something to think about (Edward Thomas) Woke up to the rain and the wind beating on my window pale, Yet I thought of getting dressed and going there. A subway system, so far not yet up to standards, A job like mine, no one need to hurry too A mindset like mine, meant for me to lay low during the northeaster...rain and wind Poor yet full of pride, I am the servant Queen, Yesterday, I struggled to maintain my sanity Due to working conditions: at the workplace I have been feuding for years. Nothing changes not even an added penny, before its death, More work, more stress, no respect Night supervisors, penciling or rather maneuvering into the darkness at six am. A street crowded with overturn bins, Flooded streets, with mudded running water Mother of Nature, another dangerous disaster? You meaner than corvid and Alaska, I am the servant Queen, poor, yet full of pride: I am fed up with others trying to take me for a ride Sometimes, you need a break from a bad situation Never berate yourself for giving expression to your emotions. Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;(Edward Thomas) line I planned to stick, to my believes, nothing will change, I will always be the servant Queen, as longs as them reign:

27