"reading" poems
Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.
As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.
You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.
Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.
Although the last sentence
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.
Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.
You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book
Was your favorite story
All along.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
180k
There's a reason there's a path outside your door
that leads to a road
that leads to an interstate,
that leads to an airport.
And there's a reason that planes fly from that airport
to one near here.
Same reason that airport has a road
that leads to a highway
a highway that they are repairing as we speak
that leads to my town
to a path that leads to my door
And its not just coincidence.
Any more than its coincidence that you are reading this.
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 8:06 PM UTC
The first time I saw you it was in math class.
I didn't notice anything about you at first I just memorized the back of how your head was.
After all, I had an hour to ****
The second time I saw you were in English class.
You sat next to me but not by choice.
But I was happy about it.
It took me about four to five weeks to talk to you,
and I wasn't even the one to speak first.
You introduced yourself and then we worked together on an assignment.
It's been two weeks and I haven't said another word and I probably won't out of random.
My anxiety swallows me whole
and I'm sorry I can't even say hello.
But I have had time to notice you.
And let me just say
I'm in love with your taste in music
I'm in love with the way you hold your books
thinking that if you change the sound of your voice when the diagonal changes,
or if you struggle reading words you've never seen before and sit there for a few seconds trying to piece together what they mean.
I love how you can play the mandolin, you should show me sometime.
As I think about these things I also pick up how you would never even think of me.
I mean really,
you probably want some girl that's outgoing and can strum a guitar solo at midnight with you.
You probably want someone with long hair you can intertwine your fingers in,
or someone you can spend an afternoon together after church with.
I can't move mountains
and I can't even speak without looking like a fool,
but even if nothing will ever happen
It would be just as quite exciting being friends with you.
We could trade books and make each other mixtapes.
It hasn't even been a month yet and I'm already writing mediocre poetry about you.
I'm sorry about that by the way.
I'm not asking for a relationship but a friendship with someone like you would feel just the same.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
Little house
Timeless street
Childhood garden
The scent of your preschool playground after a storm on a Wednesday in may
The ring of your parents' doorbell
The weepy feeling looking at childhood photos and knowing you'll never get those moments back
The melancholy moment you realize the book you're reading was your favorite bedtime story
The second the atmosphere shifts and you're suddenly thrown back to memories of your mothers embrace on a stormy night
The suffocating feeling of revisiting tales thinning at the ends as your recollection slowly fades
The slipping grip of what once was that will never be again, slowly turning faded and acid washed until its nothing but a feeling you cant put a name to
Nostalgia
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
PLEASE FORGIVE ME
for not reading right now.
1) I've been very busy with personal issues.
2) I've been on the low with some poets
who need to talk.
3) I've been emailing Elliott York all
morning about a couple of things.
a) The asinine war that was happening
here on his site. It's caused many to leave
and it (the attacks on Wolf Spirit included)
MUST STOP. Gary L has extended the olive
branch. THE REST OF YOU MUST DO SO
AS WELL. It's kindergarten stuff! You're
ADULTS. ACT LIKE IT!
b) A couple of years ago I came up with an
idea. The Poet Tree T-shirt and poster. It would kind of look like this...
P O E T S
XXXXX
XXXX♡XXX
XXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX
XXXX
**P
O
E
T
R**
love.joy Y peace
happiness.pain
other.poet.words.
...FILL HEARTS
The X's above would be POET NAMES!
YOUR NAME WOULD BE ON THE SHIRTS!
You could then get the t-shirt/poster
from Elliott York!
It's an idea that I personally put out
a while back but never was able to
follow up on.
Email Elliott York if you like the idea.
I want it to UNIFY POETS. We are ALL
LEAVES ON THIS TREE!
Thanks for reading.
♡ Catherine
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
Is it not easy
to greet to someone
whom you never spoke
for a very long time?
Among all people,
I am the only one
you've always bypass
to talk to
I know the hindrance
why we ward off each other
just to make ourselves
escape the stigma
Curiosity gets bigger
Each time I look at you
Should I wait patiently
Or take the wheel further
One thing I could do...
All what I wanted to say,
all my thoughts about you,
are profoundly veiled
You and me
are the only ones
to know what's in...
where people shouldn't know
A storage box
of unspoken words
a birthday bag
of sweets
If you are reading this
do not assume
that I did them
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?
You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
You
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)
- a.g.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 8:20 PM UTC
Wish I could stop time or make it last longer
Feeling on your vibes, emotions getting stronger
The longer I ponder, the more I grow fonder
I can't be around you
There ain't no telling what i might do
I don't know if you can take it
It's too big, I might break it
Little waist tight dress
I can’t take it
Your body shakin
eyes looking at me
like your for my taking
our bodies groove
In our grooves
This kinda love is for the makin
Dancing like we two halves of one making
The moment sacred
Reading your body language
picturing you naked
screamin my name like its your favorite
I make your body do things
So your soul can savor it
Makin love until your ears ring
to our vibe vibrating as we do our thing
you cumin first until it’s past tense
Got a few things on my mind
Baby you are a hottie
Out of everybody
I want your body
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC
After the DJ dimmed down the lights
One look at you
I can tell it's gonna be a long night
I don't know if you can take it
It's too big, I might break it
Little waist tight dress
Your body shakin
Eyes Looking at me
like your for the takin
The way our bodies groove
make our bodies move
like love is for the makin
Dancing like we naked
dancin close like its sacred
Reading your body language
Screaming my name
like i’m your favorite
I make your body do things
Making love until your ear rings
Screaming out loud, speaking nonsense
make you *** first until is past tense
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Dearest friend, parent, lover
Whoever might be reading this
I'm sorry i couldn't stay strong.
I'm sorry i couldn't stand it anymore
It's not anyones fault, i just wasn't meant to be here.
Just like those flowers that never bloom. They just grow and starts hanging a bit, then dies.
Dear younger siblings.
Don't look up to me, look up to people like daddy or momma, they're happy, i weren't. One life lesson i've learnt is that happiness doesn't come without courage, but with too much courage you'll get tired and let go when you finally get there, and you'll end back where you started.
Dear older "sister"
You know who you are and you're probably reading this right now, smiling at how i mention you as my sister. You're the best person to ever be in my life, and even though you told me a couple of years ago that you were lesbian i never rethought the meaning of your hugs, cause i know we're sisters.
If it wasn't for you i would have done this a lot earlier so thank you.
Dear parents.
Don't cry, i'm not worth your beautiful tears.. I have nothing more to say than i know you lost me, but don't lose courage.
Dear best friend.
Thank you for always being there.
Thank you for telling me that everything will be alright.. It just hurts me to say that you were wrong.. And i'm sorry cause i know this will bring you pain.. But i know you have some other. Nice friends who'd support you.
Dear stranger.
I'm sorry if i was goind to know you in my no longer exisisting future.. You're better off without me anyways..
Dear myself.
I'm sorry i can't hold on anymore, i know that you had your happy times, and that a lot of people longed for your life, but i couldn't stand it anymore..
Dear person
I'm sorry the voices became too much.
I'm sorry i ran out of place to make scars.. I'm sorry i couldn't stand this inner pain anymore.. Dear person.. I'm sorry.. Goodbye..
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
“Moby **** Herman Melville
<•>
~for the lost at sea~
after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining
the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls
sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality
I’m called to depart my beach shoreline unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming
god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion, nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties
my in-camera brain eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles
walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?
puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others
perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered
Memorial Day 2018
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Basketball stands for war or battle.
That's why I think about the players'
personalities, in my foxhole or squad.
Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan
especially can pass making him master
and commander. To defeat them as we did
is pst satisfying. Ben's five year old son
disdains to answer my question
Why are you you?
But I'm not here
to catalogue the men's personalities.
I like them. But each of us has moved on
many times, when ___________ suddenly died
the games went on with hardly a mention
and his name has since been forgotten.
But even this, absolute mortality
of not just our bodies but our names
and souls is not what I came
to talk about. Yesterday, between games,
I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes
the high school. He mounted an impassioned
defense of reading as the indispensable skill
when I suggested math, the scientific method
and history are essential too.
Also between games
Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald.
I was moved by the care he took to satisfy
his curiosity, concerned the subject might be
difficult. He's a political science teacher so
I took the opportunity to ask What ails
the republic? Of course I answered myself
wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq
and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing
I thought, treating the subject with a light touch
heretofore lacking.
But none of this is what I came to say.
A new guy, long quick and strong, a
bulldozer under the boards with a good
outside shot if needed got into a dispute
with the other Bob who likes to tell people
what to do sometimes, about an offensive
foul Bob called which we almost never do.
The new guy said If you can't take it don't
play under the boards which is what I say
when I'm ****** and don't give a ****
Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me
all day. I said He doesn't want to be
pushed and shoved which got a wry
smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
*the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear*
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
~~♥~~
I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...
If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding
A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...
It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!
It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!
It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!
It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs
to walk away.
But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.
Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.
Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.
It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.
So now I think on it again...
... *I think BOOKS should be
more like MEN!!!*
SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
Dear Reader,
if you're reading this
it means
I'm dead
as a paper
_free_
to be etched
with the poem
I tried to write
so many times
when I was me-
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
*
You're more beautiful
And more outstanding and bright
Than you'll ever know.
*
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 12:47 PM UTC
a companion piece to
miniskirts & high heels vs. poetry & yoga^
<•>
a couple of buds at a local dive bar, drinking Buds,
talking loud about technology
and other manly man stuff
attract attention for our conversation isn't bout sports,
get approached by long legs in high heels and a miniskirt,
with the best come on line ever
any woman invented,
"you guys know about computers, huh?"
later after reading twenty or so of her poems,
and learning the degree of difficulty of the
downward facing dog pose
(adho mukha svanasana)
she said:
tell me again how I
*clear my cache,
change my font,
add more memory for new memories,
stop auto correct from making wont into want,
so I can happy write*
"wont thy thoughts to my heart thereof"
so I obliged and then
the geek in meek wrote
his first poem
after first clearing the catch
in his throat
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
I read a quote somewhere that said,
"I don't know how many times I have survived myself, without telling anyone else."
And I felt those words shoot through every nerve in my body. I felt them so deeply.
And I wonder how many of us feel the same way.
How many nights we fought off the suicidal thoughts, the urge to cut, the urge to purge, the urge to run or to hide out, alone, too afraid to worry or bother our friends and family.
How many days and nights have we all suffered in our own darkness alone?
People like us fight a battle no one can ever fathom because it's a battle no one can see. And we don't let them.
I've fought myself and survived myself alone so many nights.
There were nights I use to lose my own battle. But some how still came out alive.
I guess that's how we keep going. Because every time we give up we come out stronger.
You fight yourself and beat yourself up for so long that eventually you become a master of surviving a war.
We're warriors.
"I don't know how many times I've survived myself, without telling anyone else."
Tonight, I'm telling all of you.
I survived myself.
And if you're still here and you're reading this, you survived yourself too.
It's not easy but you did it.
And I'm so proud of you all.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC
Poetry is like a *****
in its wobbly, dangly freeness
(This poems not the cleanest so stop reading if you're a little squeamish)
Some have it, some don't
some use it, some won't
some like it awkward with a twist at the end
like a shakespearean couplet but on the person it depends
for others its merely secondary
(oh but always necessary)
to the holder - their Mars or Venus
So, as god is my witness,
poetry is a *****
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
I broke up with McDonalds
On Valentine's day
People said she was no good for me
I had to get away
So I told her, It's not you,
It's just a phase I'm going through
But as we all know -
Dumping fast food is not a pleasant thing to do.
So I broke up with McDonalds, didn't see her for a while
Was doing pretty well - there was the occasional drunk-dial
When I walked up to the window
And I slipped into the queue -
But then I came back to my senses
And realised the thing to do...
Was to keep on walking
Keep on walking
Right past her
Ignore the temptation
To suckle
On those golden arches
Ignore those bed-like burgers
And those oh-so-easy fries
Divide our shared world up
And sever all ties!
Yes! I broke up with McDonalds and my life is better for it
When my girlfriend serves up rabbit food I simply adore it
I was scared of life alone with no kebab to walk me home
But...
What I once spent on burgers...
I now spend on...
Haribo!
Oh Haribo! Haribo!
You are a fruit tree in a sack
And although it feels wrong to see you
Behind my girlfriend's back
She can not be hurt by wrongs she does not know!
No - the new love of my life is Haribo, oh Haribo!
But then one evening after work
My girfriend came home early.
Caught me curled up on the couch
Soaking up her girly
DVDs
In front of me
A bowl of
Not nuts, nor seeds...
But fizzy, yes fizzy,
Cola bottles
That were
FIZZY!
How could you do this?
My girlfriend screamed at me.
Cannot you see the damage that they do-eth to your teeth?
(She'd been reading Shakespeare)
No, my eyes are on my face, I can't see in my mouth.
Right, she said, If you think I'm joking then I'm going to kick you out.
So she kicked me out the flat and that was that she said.
Not quite...
I grabbed my stash of Haribo from underneath the bed.
I told her all the things about her that I really hated
And the moral is:
Relationships with things that you can't eat are over-rated.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 2:52 PM UTC
The beach smells of tranquillity and salty sea air
The rhythm of the waves gently caresses my skin
The horizon seems elusive, a dream always chased
Yet night foreshadows traumas waiting to be let in
Oh where do I begin?
*I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time*
I'm scared of silent reflections, solemn and reclusive
I float futher from myself with each passing day
I have a note addressed to myself taped to a mirror
I'm scared of reading it aloud and being lead astray
And I have to accept that it's okay
*"I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time"*
Seashells coated in sand tickle the edge of my ear
The fog carried on the wind sends chills deep inside
The sun will always be there to break the duskiness
Daunting across the sky and waking up the tide
And the breeze slowly sighed
Please don't run away,
don't run away from me
Please don't run away,
don't run away from help
Please don't run away,
don't run away from the sea
Please don't run away,
don't run away from yourself
Angel wings take me further than I've ever gone before
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
We used to swing under the big willow tree
We lived 3 doors down from each other
We were princesses who fought dragons
We could save the kingdom and find our prince by lunch time
Our moms laughed and talked about how cute we were
Four years old was a cute age
Fast forward a bit
We went into elementary school innocent and young
Boys had cooties
Girls had cooties
Kickball always ended with someone getting hit in the face
We would always sit out field and pick grass and shape it into a little birds nest
Life was good
Until your parents started fighting and I mean really fighting.
It scared me and I would have to go home
I would make you come with me
three doors down
Our moms didn’t laugh anymore
By Christmas break your parents were broken up and divorced
Eight years old was a confusing age
Junior high was mean.
Girls would rip you to shreds and then hang pieces of you on everyone’s lockers
Boys just wanted to make out
A whirlwind of uncontrolled hormones
We were the quiet ones
Always flew under the radar
Just trying to make it out alive
We found a little spot to eat lunch under the stairs where no one would go
We giggled and talked about boys who didn’t even know that we existed
I remember crying in the bathroom with you because people were brutal and we weren’t good enough
Our moms worried about us and how distant we were becoming
Thirteen years old was a sad age
Highschool is another story
You were put in the hospital for a month
I was left at school alone
I had to find more friends
I found most of them were fake
So I ate my lunch in a bathroom stall
Reading all the swear words that were carved in the wall
You were really sick and we grew apart
We were always close
We will always love each other
You tried to save me from myself
But I didn’t let you
Seventeen was an important age
Now we are at different colleges
I tried to **** myself while you were getting an A on your anatomy test
It’s sad
We don’t swing under the big willow tree or fight dragons anymore
Our moms hardly talk
You are a success
and I am a failure
We don’t really mesh
I miss you every day
I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you
We were princesses who lived three doors down, we saved the kingdom.
I love you
I’m sorry this has faded
Just like everything else
Nineteen years old is a dying age.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading "Keep Off."
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
25.1k
Relax yourself,
As I digg through your mind
Scroll down the pages of your spine
Reading every word and thought on your face like a book
Stumbled Upon you then tumbled onto your looks--IGuess
I'm linked into you
You're my one and only interest
Will you follow me?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC