"sharer" poems - Hello Poetry

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

A Face that Fits my Hand (She Says Poems don't Count)

I Thirsty now; mouth dry like A desert wanderer's, Single man in solitude Swiping right and Not even caring Too much. Just looking for trouble; Microwave-romance, softness; A face that fits my hand. Guitars gathering dust, begging St. Gibson for inspiration To shake their owner into Lust fuelled Songwriting; string breaking, pick Melting, voice straining. For now, the last of five litres of Italian red is floating bellywards; Bloodwards; headwards; Heartwards, and the drinker writes Text message poetry with drops of Wine hiding in barley beard too Full for an old mother's appreciation. I owe her a grandchild. She says poems don't count. II Thirsty now; heart dry like one Not recalling love, not remembering A woman's hungry hands on The back of one's Warm, wet head, pulling, nails Digging, Teeth biting beard. Skin kissing skin. Soul seeing soul and Celebrating. Sweet illusion of love. I create a bed-sharer on canvas. I compose a breakfast-eater at my table. A listener to my songs, Sunset-watcher, Netflix-snuggler, Rainstorm-listener. I owe for her to be flesh and blood, not merely My neurons dancing. Ears to hear My compliments. Hair to brush Away from between Our lips mid-kiss. I finish my wine. Could have made nearly painful Love to her For ages and Aeons, but I Create her temporarily; Fleeting image of a speaking doll. *Hold me like tears on something Golden. Hold me like an acid Trip fading into reality.* She says poems don't count. She says Poems Don't really Count.

0

Aug 5, 2016

Aug 5, 2016 at 6:27 PM UTC

sgholter

I Thirsty now; mouth dry like A desert wanderer's, Single man in solitude Swiping right and Not even caring Too much. Just looking for trouble; Microwave-romance, softness; A face that fits my hand. Guitars gathering dust, begging St. Gibson for inspiration To shake their owner into Lust fuelled Songwriting; string breaking, pick Melting, voice straining. For now, the last of five litres of Italian red is floating bellywards; Bloodwards; headwards; Heartwards, and the drinker writes Text message poetry with drops of Wine hiding in barley beard too Full for an old mother's appreciation. I owe her a grandchild. She says poems don't count. II Thirsty now; heart dry like one Not recalling love, not remembering A woman's hungry hands on The back of one's Warm, wet head, pulling, nails Digging, Teeth biting beard. Skin kissing skin. Soul seeing soul and Celebrating. Sweet illusion of love. I create a bed-sharer on canvas. I compose a breakfast-eater at my table. A listener to my songs, Sunset-watcher, Netflix-snuggler, Rainstorm-listener. I owe for her to be flesh and blood, not merely My neurons dancing. Ears to hear My compliments. Hair to brush Away from between Our lips mid-kiss. I finish my wine. Could have made nearly painful Love to her For ages and Aeons, but I Create her temporarily; Fleeting image of a speaking doll. *Hold me like tears on something Golden. Hold me like an acid Trip fading into reality.* She says poems don't count. She says Poems Don't really Count.

62

Five nights a week at midnight, he dyes blue. Angel, you’re bad news. Salvation Army button-downs unbuttoned in a second our hands have introduced kinetic bear hugs, although visually frail and weathered. Shoulder length hair and a cuticle away from pure. obsession. Of all the heartbeats and hop, skips and jumps; I surrender. Adding the lye m. cm. mm. Get closer. Knock me over in slow motion. Tumbling rotary dial “1” click. “2” click, click. Rendering the grease I’m closing the locker when He appears at 11:55 P.M. Beat up, an 8 track cassette surviving a barrage of garage sales. My dear affection is still a child labor law. Juvenile. Staring Aderol Syndrome (S.A.S.). Birds nest palms, the delicate benchmark. I would give up half of $4.75/hr. Warm me up and share $9.50/hr. Collecting Grease Gunmetal blue, locker “27.” I read an article of clothing yesterday, not from these parts. At Your Steel-toe Boots. Please listen. You know the dialect. Coffee brewer, lighter sharer, you are the Aurora Borealis eventful. Five nights a week at midnight, I dye blue.

0

May 28, 2013

May 28, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC

paul-james-valhalla-clear

Infatuated with collar, blue.

Five nights a week at midnight, he dyes blue. Angel, you’re bad news. Salvation Army button-downs unbuttoned in a second our hands have introduced kinetic bear hugs, although visually frail and weathered. Shoulder length hair and a cuticle away from pure. obsession. Of all the heartbeats and hop, skips and jumps; I surrender. Adding the lye m. cm. mm. Get closer. Knock me over in slow motion. Tumbling rotary dial “1” click. “2” click, click. Rendering the grease I’m closing the locker when He appears at 11:55 P.M. Beat up, an 8 track cassette surviving a barrage of garage sales. My dear affection is still a child labor law. Juvenile. Staring Aderol Syndrome (S.A.S.). Birds nest palms, the delicate benchmark. I would give up half of $4.75/hr. Warm me up and share $9.50/hr. Collecting Grease Gunmetal blue, locker “27.” I read an article of clothing yesterday, not from these parts. At Your Steel-toe Boots. Please listen. You know the dialect. Coffee brewer, lighter sharer, you are the Aurora Borealis eventful. Five nights a week at midnight, I dye blue.

31

I am the villain, the coldhearted canyon killer who cut Atlas’ Achilles tendon causing the sky to crumble and crush the falsely humble. I am rage working its way from a red froth foaming in the cold glowing bay, choppy waters which reflect star light that is too far away and already dead. I am not the hero of this narrative because all that I have to give is destruction in the form of my careful criticism of this corrupt system. I smile, hoping my wise words will blasts this system’s foundation and clear the clutter to build something better. I am the truth barer, sunlight sharer in a world happy with its shadows. I am a vicious striker and slicer, mean bust mostly nicer than I should be as the bad guy of humanity. We all want to be the hero of our little fairytale, but I know better than to fool myself, because if the genocidal politicians the vile ********* preachers, the violent sports stars, the murderous soldiers, and the greedy businessmen are your definition of the ubermensch apex of the patriarchal hierarchy…. Then to you as to them I am anarchy builder and destroyer of abstract constructs that control us and the ultimate terrorist/freedom fighter because I am a truth writer.

0

Jul 10, 2017

Jul 10, 2017 at 7:43 PM UTC

graff1980

I Am The Villain

I am the villain, the coldhearted canyon killer who cut Atlas’ Achilles tendon causing the sky to crumble and crush the falsely humble. I am rage working its way from a red froth foaming in the cold glowing bay, choppy waters which reflect star light that is too far away and already dead. I am not the hero of this narrative because all that I have to give is destruction in the form of my careful criticism of this corrupt system. I smile, hoping my wise words will blasts this system’s foundation and clear the clutter to build something better. I am the truth barer, sunlight sharer in a world happy with its shadows. I am a vicious striker and slicer, mean bust mostly nicer than I should be as the bad guy of humanity. We all want to be the hero of our little fairytale, but I know better than to fool myself, because if the genocidal politicians the vile ********* preachers, the violent sports stars, the murderous soldiers, and the greedy businessmen are your definition of the ubermensch apex of the patriarchal hierarchy…. Then to you as to them I am anarchy builder and destroyer of abstract constructs that control us and the ultimate terrorist/freedom fighter because I am a truth writer.

54

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

Nov 16, 2016

Nov 16, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

May 16, 2016

May 16, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

I had a very good friend And a sharer of dubious adventures Who had some wonderful sayings If someone said something That he disagreed with strongly He would say, with great dignity And proud indignation "Excuse me..... Yer ******* By Phil Roberts

0

Apr 6, 2016

Apr 6, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC

I had a very good friend And a sharer of dubious adventures Who had some wonderful sayings If someone said something That he disagreed with strongly He would say, with great dignity And proud indignation "Excuse me..... Yer ******* By Phil Roberts

DIGNITY

10

Who am I? I am a creator. I dance, I sing, I write. I am a sharer of knowledge. I guide, I heal, I empower. I am a believer. I embrace, I reflect, I change. I am a challenger. I question, I grow, I accept. I am love, light, and patience.

0

Sep 28, 2015

Sep 28, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC

lizzy-love

¿Quién soy?

Who am I? I am a creator. I dance, I sing, I write. I am a sharer of knowledge. I guide, I heal, I empower. I am a believer. I embrace, I reflect, I change. I am a challenger. I question, I grow, I accept. I am love, light, and patience.

10

I knew her when She learned her letters; She liked me too. We shared a tent; Followed the sparks fading in the full moon's face. Draped water over our skins at midnight. She bickered with her mother, Whom she mothered today. She once had a mole Only we two knew. I knew her then. That's the fact of it. She rebelled, Then surpassed naysayers and detractors. I knew her, then. Got to know her at her best- A sharer, and keeper, One who wasn't one to rest. I knew her without discretion; Like when she partied at Mardi Gras, Wearing string-beads, blowing saxes, Something she never spoke of. Then, this cannot be her. I knew her, and, I didn't know.

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Jul 23, 2017

Jul 23, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC

francie-lynch

I Knew Her

I knew her when She learned her letters; She liked me too. We shared a tent; Followed the sparks fading in the full moon's face. Draped water over our skins at midnight. She bickered with her mother, Whom she mothered today. She once had a mole Only we two knew. I knew her then. That's the fact of it. She rebelled, Then surpassed naysayers and detractors. I knew her, then. Got to know her at her best- A sharer, and keeper, One who wasn't one to rest. I knew her without discretion; Like when she partied at Mardi Gras, Wearing string-beads, blowing saxes, Something she never spoke of. Then, this cannot be her. I knew her, and, I didn't know.

25

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

Mar 25, 2017

Mar 25, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

HOSPITAL VISIT

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

Dec 16, 2015

Dec 16, 2015 at 6:50 AM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

Jul 12, 2017

Jul 12, 2017 at 6:40 AM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

HOSPITAL VISIT

i’m younger than you’d ever guess yet i feel older than time my head is kicked around like a soccar ball but trust me, i feel fine. my parents used to abuse me physically but i didn’t mind because the worst pain was emotional ask the doctor who doesn’t know i’m dying because depression is just a phrase people use to pass as hip but when someone says it on a serious note you make like their hope and dip but me, i’ve been seeing this since i was four years old never could express my blessings because they were wrapped in the cold but i’m fine i still purge every once in a while but i’m sharing some thay counts for something right? i guess i’m growing, i’m not a poet but i occasionally rhyme i’m not a sharer but i guess this right here proves that statement to be a lie

i’m younger than you’d ever guess yet i feel older than time my head is kicked around like a soccar ball but trust me, i feel fine. my parents used to abuse me physically but i didn’t mind because the worst pain was emotional ask the doctor who doesn’t know i’m dying because depression is just a phrase people use to pass as hip but when someone says it on a serious note you make like their hope and dip but me, i’ve been seeing this since i was four years old never could express my blessings because they were wrapped in the cold but i’m fine i still purge every once in a while but i’m sharing some thay counts for something right? i guess i’m growing, i’m not a poet but i occasionally rhyme i’m not a sharer but i guess this right here proves that statement to be a lie

0

Jan 26, 2016

Jan 26, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC

Riot-Worsley

this is kinda me

23

I had a very good friend And a sharer of dubious adventures Who had some wonderful sayings If someone said something That he disagreed with strongly He would say, with great dignity And proud indignation "Excuse me..... Yer ******* By Phil Roberts

0

Feb 17, 2016

Feb 17, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC

I had a very good friend And a sharer of dubious adventures Who had some wonderful sayings If someone said something That he disagreed with strongly He would say, with great dignity And proud indignation "Excuse me..... Yer ******* By Phil Roberts

DIGNITY

10

How do you comfort a loved one Who has been hurt by their lover? Does it ever get easier to see the bruises The scars The shallowness in her breathing? I look at her My blood and my soul sharer How could he?

0

Sep 2, 2018

Sep 2, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC

herenow

Heal

How do you comfort a loved one Who has been hurt by their lover? Does it ever get easier to see the bruises The scars The shallowness in her breathing? I look at her My blood and my soul sharer How could he?

8

She has a drive to share her body Right to shreds Always been an over- sharer, everyone says. Swollen lips and scarred skin, All of that spurious stability, Coaxing them right in

0

Apr 26, 2018

Apr 26, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC

m-j-s

Papershredder

She has a drive to share her body Right to shreds Always been an over- sharer, everyone says. Swollen lips and scarred skin, All of that spurious stability, Coaxing them right in

16

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

0

Feb 18, 2016

Feb 18, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC

I knew he was dying I thought maybe a few weeks left So still and so quiet This man whose laugh made us all laugh The man who always had ideas Where to go, what to do for a laugh Always a laugh Sharer of adventures Partner in crime For thirty-six crazy years Dying before my eyes and Taking much of my life with him He'd had a massive stroke a year earlier They said he'd die then But he defied them and recovered a lot Proper conversations and learning to walk Then they discovered that he had cancer And here we were five weeks later "How long are you gonna be in here?" I asked He turned his head and looked hard at me "I die next week," he said As though he had an appointment He got three days, not a week I cried seeing him dying But I was relieved for him when he did Now my old friend is gone And it's a duller world without him By Phil Roberts

HOSPITAL VISIT