"rett" poems - Hello Poetry

I read him one of my poems He complemented my mechanics And although part of me laughed Wondering how he heard me breathe the commas Heard my spelling bee winner's letter placement Still The notion stuck Steadfast Push-pinned in my memory In the neglected space where kind gestures live I told him how I appreciated it I should've told him Boy no no You don't understand My mechanics need fixing No not my grammar boy I should've told him to volunteer Sweet boy I know hands are easier to work with than words Touch me with both Shhhh sweet boy Fix me with your good nature Let it wash over me Wash away my grime You needn't a good speaking voice But a good intention Warming arms To thaw me Couldn't hurt But sweet boy Too bad We all grow sick of licorice And I broke you Like the mantelpiece momma told me not to play around I broke you For a less sweet boy With a politician tongue And words soaked in muddy motives I broke you Hardened you Into a less sweet boy With a polititia- err Salesman tongue And words soaked in muddy motives I left you Gone with the wind You were the Rett In the search for my Ashley But he broke me Like the soldiers countenance heading to combat He left me Wondering Where all the sweet boys could have gone

0

May 21, 2014

May 21, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC

hippiekiddie

Sweet boys

I read him one of my poems He complemented my mechanics And although part of me laughed Wondering how he heard me breathe the commas Heard my spelling bee winner's letter placement Still The notion stuck Steadfast Push-pinned in my memory In the neglected space where kind gestures live I told him how I appreciated it I should've told him Boy no no You don't understand My mechanics need fixing No not my grammar boy I should've told him to volunteer Sweet boy I know hands are easier to work with than words Touch me with both Shhhh sweet boy Fix me with your good nature Let it wash over me Wash away my grime You needn't a good speaking voice But a good intention Warming arms To thaw me Couldn't hurt But sweet boy Too bad We all grow sick of licorice And I broke you Like the mantelpiece momma told me not to play around I broke you For a less sweet boy With a politician tongue And words soaked in muddy motives I broke you Hardened you Into a less sweet boy With a polititia- err Salesman tongue And words soaked in muddy motives I left you Gone with the wind You were the Rett In the search for my Ashley But he broke me Like the soldiers countenance heading to combat He left me Wondering Where all the sweet boys could have gone

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She was born just like all the rest, When nothing seemed to be a threat, But as she grew, day by day, Her normality began to fray. And soon her mother would be told, That her life would be taken into the threshold, Of a disorder that robs everything, From a future that could have been riveting. As she grew older, she lost all abilities, But an angel is what they all see, During life her opportunities became slim, And then she lost control of every limb. She never got to ride a bike, Or learn to drive a car, She never got to take a hike, Or go out to a bar. She never got to go to prom, Or even paint her nails, She never learned the words of Psalms, Or told her most fascinating tales. She never went on a date, Or walked down the isle, She never got to meet her soul mate, Or even run a mile. She never got to put makeup on her face, Or order her own meal, She never tied her own shoelace, Or show how she did feel. Her life was mangled by something cruel, That acted like a menacing tool, But she could always stay so calm, Even when she was being brutally attacked by Rett Syndrome. By: Aisling Spellman

0

Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC

RatherNotSay

Taken by a Monster

She was born just like all the rest, When nothing seemed to be a threat, But as she grew, day by day, Her normality began to fray. And soon her mother would be told, That her life would be taken into the threshold, Of a disorder that robs everything, From a future that could have been riveting. As she grew older, she lost all abilities, But an angel is what they all see, During life her opportunities became slim, And then she lost control of every limb. She never got to ride a bike, Or learn to drive a car, She never got to take a hike, Or go out to a bar. She never got to go to prom, Or even paint her nails, She never learned the words of Psalms, Or told her most fascinating tales. She never went on a date, Or walked down the isle, She never got to meet her soul mate, Or even run a mile. She never got to put makeup on her face, Or order her own meal, She never tied her own shoelace, Or show how she did feel. Her life was mangled by something cruel, That acted like a menacing tool, But she could always stay so calm, Even when she was being brutally attacked by Rett Syndrome. By: Aisling Spellman

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Her står jeg i all min nakenhet Skriver dikt på norsk og greier Jeg vet ikke helt hva jeg skal si Hvordan jeg skal sette ord på det Engelsk ville fått dette til å se fancy ut Med kompliserte ord og uttrykk Men her kommer det rå og nakne Rotete formulert, uten rim og slikt Du får fram en helt ny person i meg En person jeg selv må bli kjent med For dette er ikke likt noe jeg vet om Dette er alt helt nytt og rart for meg Følelser jeg ikke har hatt før En tvil om hva jeg egentlig vil Jeg vet ikke lenger faktisk Noe jeg alltid har trodd jeg har gjort Det er mye du ikke vet Mye du ikke bør få vite Jeg vil ikke ødelegge deg Livredd for at det skal skje Gi det tid, så vil jeg skjønne Hva jeg selv innerst inne vil Jeg vet hva jeg vil ville Men det er ikke alltid rett Dette er som en ny sang Som jeg må lære å synge Og spille på piano perfekt Før den store framvisningen Er det mulig at tiden vil si At solo er formen for meg Eller kanskje det er på tide Å gjøre det til en duett?

0

Feb 14, 2017

Feb 14, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC

marte-lindholm

Skribleri [Norwegian]

Her står jeg i all min nakenhet Skriver dikt på norsk og greier Jeg vet ikke helt hva jeg skal si Hvordan jeg skal sette ord på det Engelsk ville fått dette til å se fancy ut Med kompliserte ord og uttrykk Men her kommer det rå og nakne Rotete formulert, uten rim og slikt Du får fram en helt ny person i meg En person jeg selv må bli kjent med For dette er ikke likt noe jeg vet om Dette er alt helt nytt og rart for meg Følelser jeg ikke har hatt før En tvil om hva jeg egentlig vil Jeg vet ikke lenger faktisk Noe jeg alltid har trodd jeg har gjort Det er mye du ikke vet Mye du ikke bør få vite Jeg vil ikke ødelegge deg Livredd for at det skal skje Gi det tid, så vil jeg skjønne Hva jeg selv innerst inne vil Jeg vet hva jeg vil ville Men det er ikke alltid rett Dette er som en ny sang Som jeg må lære å synge Og spille på piano perfekt Før den store framvisningen Er det mulig at tiden vil si At solo er formen for meg Eller kanskje det er på tide Å gjøre det til en duett?

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