"puttered" poems
I didn't expect it then,
there, but not, no, not then.
Small, and many times,
unaccustomed to my home a yet;
Positively I peered forward, waiting on lights
until a clutter of voice and hello,
alerted me,
to a presence.
And it was her presence.
I knew, recognized,
and clanged that empty
cold bell into
a singing steeple.
Hit from the side, I
puttered to my feet and
struggled into hellos and
the long-awaited, paltry,
embrace.
mywordsrolledout
anddownthefrontofmyshirt
ontotheground
for others to walk
unwittingly across
She, usurping pauses,
whispered speech out in a harbored
dammed-up way,
but like sounds
of birds bathing
in streams.
Our modesty admired and shown
its countenance onto our not-so-betraying
pleasantries.
She sat.
I sat. small. and
many times unaccustomed to here.
I peered positively forward awaiting lights
to rest easy and with grace on the presence
- to whom - the blades of grass beneath
bowed.
Sinking into me, a spring, pure, of two souls
whom, are admired
because they pretend
not to know;
they curtain themselves from each other
just because of what they aren't ready
to show.
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 6:42 AM UTC
She stands among the grey scape with
So many muted colours inside her.
But today is a day of monochrome miasmas-
Of grey gulls that skim the pewter river
With wings that know such measures.
The greyness leeches her to the technicolour
World she knew long ago
Somewhere down the river.
A cauldron of rage wages above her
Filled with the bursts of brigands of
Grey restless beauty.
There's a rainbow now!
As it archly
Shows its palette she sees the separation
Appear ever nearer...
Above the rainbow is cobalt
Beneath it a merely flat grey.
Underneath her umbrella she enjoys
The puttered thwacks of soft water indenting
Thin fabric with a firework crack.
Suddenly she's back
Her shoes are black and her eyes are grey.
She wishes everyone was a million miles away.
She wishes everyone could stay.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
This afternoon I tried signing onto my Xbox but it wouldn't let me.
I called up customer support and they asked the usual questions.
Then they put me on hold for thirty minutes or so;
and in those thirty minutes I decided I'd make a grilled cheese sandwich.
When the customer service rep got back on,
he said the account would immediately be deactivated
and they they couldn't refund me for all the purchases I made;
then told me I was better off with a Nintendo WiiU and hung up.
I looked at my phone in disgust. Surely this was some sick joke.
But anger, much like a clean, pretty face,
got the best of me.
I chucked my phone at the wall;
then rushed out the house and found the closest thing I could see.
An old lawn chair from my jam band festival days.
I threw it, with all my might, into the street;
screaming "I don't want a ******* WiiU!" over
and over, till my voice gave
and puttered like a Ford Pinto on it's last leg.
That's when I noticed the windows were tinted black;
and soon after smoke started to billow out the windows.
Oh no, I thought, *the ******* grilled cheese sandwich!*
I ran in, coughing, my blue shirt clinging to my nose and chin;
the alarm screaming "I have seen the face of God!".
I managed to make it to the ***** grabbed
all the plastic water bottles I could find and
gave the stove counter top hell.
After the smoke cleared, I removed the pan,
threw away the sandwich
and slumped like a limp sack of grains
on the stool by the kitchen window.
And for the rest of that day I mourned over my deceased sandwich;
Oh, how well it would've paired with a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
The child bounces his ball, as the blacktop sizzles
The air choking from the heat, as the child's Nike's dance in the street
The sky a perfect blue, mixed with some clouds, maybe one or two
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
The child is bound to the block
Made a promise to his mother to stay on the sidewalk
But promises are sometime broken
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
From East to West
The child curiosity may have gotten the best
Out from his mothers watchful gaze, he is put to the test
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
A shopkeeper watches the child go by
Reminds him of his son
Especially his smile.
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
Past the child's middle school crush
Pink bow in her hair, matches her blush
Passes the ball through his legs, a teenage lush.
Dribble, Dribble, Dribble
One foot off the sidewalk, a tire screeches and swivels
Dribble, Dribble, Drop
The ball puttered to a slow stop
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 4:59 PM UTC
rip the words out from my lips.
i cant bare to speak this.
pry your face far from my eyes
so i won't stare this way.
the more i tell myself that i must be harsher on my heart.
the more i seem to fall apart.
if i could go back in time, and erase our conversations, every line, every you ever muttered, it meant nothing, but my heart puttered. and i wish i could just go mute. blind my eyes, and block all the sounds coming from you. i cant change this. even if im patient, im still gonna love you.
carry me over the hot coals.
you always save me, its like you want to.
and i don't know just how to read you.
or should i even try and study you.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC