"shortness" poems
You never stop running;
Never slow down.
You’ve learned that silence
Is the screeching of sound.
The days keep changing,
But it all bleeds to one,
As you’ve found that sleep
Only wastes time.
The stress you feel
Just means your alive.
That shortness of breath
Helps you survive.
So you move through the world
Blind to it’s beauty,
For you’ve learned things are worthless
Unless they are moving.
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 7:29 PM UTC
I met a friend today
His name was Death
He smiled big with pure white teeth
And minty fresh breath
I asked him what he did for a living
Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes
He did the opposite of giving
What did that mean?
But the closer I got to Death
The better I understood his scheme
In his sharp black suit he won me over
I felt an irresistible draw
Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover
He convinced me of the beauty in the night
That when the moon was hidden from view
There was nothing better than the lack of light
He led me from my lust for life
Sang to me in my sleep
Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife
I tried to pull away from my newly found friend
But his choke hold was so tight
On him I started to depend
The world could see me deteriorate into nothing
He held me harder and closer
With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing
Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb
The emotions drifted with my vitality
I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum
The more time you spend with a person
The more you become like them
I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen
Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog
I cared so deeply for him
My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog
I came to terms with my life long trap
Death circled like a satellite around my position
No matter where I went he found my place on the map
Eventually I succame to this fate
Despite his control
Death, I could not hate
I loved him too dearly to notice the signs
I couldn't think clearly
His presence was odious and it wasn't benign
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
I got this body from some people I knew,
For a while, at least,
And all of its shortcomings
Including shortness
Were presaged, previewed and
More than adequately demonstrated
Over the years we lived together.
In the years I ignored that, listening
Rather to their voices
Which illustrated another prophesy less physical
And am now stunned to welcome
Both my Mother and Father
In the shaving mirror everyday.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
I want to hug you
If only for one last time.
I miss your ribs pressed against mine
In an embrace I can lean into
With you always catching me.
I miss your deep brown eyes
Whether surrounded in perfect eyeliner
Or bags painted on
From worried nights.
I miss looking into those eyes
Trying to figure out
How I can calm them.
I miss your long thin legs
Sharing a seat with me when no one else will
When there are no longer seats for me to take,
They’re there for me.
I miss how every girl was jealous of them,
I miss being jealous too.
I miss your fantasy lips,
Pointing out but softly.
With a deep valley separating it
From your nose.
The nose,
I miss that too.
I miss the way it slopes,
The tiny nostrils,
The little indent at the top.
The one that makes you slightly imperfect.
I miss your feet.
Not the feet hidden in high heels
Masking your shortness.
But the feet that wore those red sneakers
On a Halloween.
You were a ladybug.
I miss you comforting me,
If only I’m afraid of a ladybug.
I miss being able to crawl into your lap.
I miss having someone who will let me
Cry until I’m done.
I miss your curling hair.
Its confidence,
Unlike mine that is burnt everyday.
I miss its cuteness,
The way it bounces,
How for every hundred brown hairs,
There’s a blonde one.
I miss the way we can be so similar,
And the way we can be so different.
I miss your appearance of evilness,
But more,
I miss your hidden kindness.
The way when we were younger you’d grab my hand,
As soon as a teacher mentioned partners.
I miss that.
I miss you.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
I used to love my curves.
My plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest,
My chubby cheeks.
All the curves, stretch marks, and the lumps,
Especially my lumps,
Made me.
And I loved me.
Until I met you.
When we first met, you worshiped my curves.
Kissed on my chest,
Gripped my thighs.
You used to say,
“I love my baby’s fat ***
As you would squeeze my thighs
and I would laugh.
But then reality decided;
“Babe you should really workout some”
*** I really think you should lose some weight”
Or you would talk of other girls,
Thinner girls.
“Country girls are so hot”
“I saw this girl today at work and she was ****
So now I’m looking in a mirror.
In my black sports bra
And my mixed match pink underwear.
All I see looking back,
is not
my plump hips,
My thick thighs,
My ***** chest
Or my chubby cheeks,
Not even my lumps,
Hell, especially my lumps.
I see my belly overflow the hem of my underwear,
I see my ******* resting on my stomach,
I see the extra skin around my neck,
And I notice the way my stomach jiggles when I walk.
The sound of my feet hitting the ground,
The way things vibrate around me when I walk,
My shortness of breath uphill,
And the way my thighs touch each other instead of having that gap.
That cute gap.
That gap that skinny girls have.
But now,
I cover myself more.
The curvy girl who used to wear crop tops confidently,
Now wears a hoodie to hide.
Secretly apologizing to everyone who ever saw her curves.
Her plump hips.
Her thick thighs.
Her ***** chest.
Apologizing to everyone whoever saw,
Her.
And I compare myself to every girl around me.
‘If I had her legs’
‘Her stomach’
‘Her face’
Maybe,
Just maybe,
You would be saying,
“Nerdy girls are hot”
Or bragging to your friends
“I have this girl and she’s so ****
And maybe,
Just maybe,
You would still be here.
And I would laugh,
Smile,
And blush
And we would be happy.
Together.
But instead,
I’m looking at this mirror,
And all I see
Is a fat girl
Looking back at me.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
this
poem
started off
intending to be the shortest poem in the world
nay,
more aptly
in the whole wide, wide open uni-verse
but ambition overtook it
and it aimed to stretch far and wide
an Aristotelian hubris, you know
like the ambition of Macbeth
going beyond what Mrs Macbeth intended
and so this ambitious little poem of ours expanded
starting meek as grass
growing zealous
and went beyond itself and its kind
this
poem
that
had such humble beginnings
that dared to want to be the shortest poem in the world
but turned out loquacious
and it could go on, it said,
beating all length, breadth and dimension
and would have -
but it got into convulsions and fits
and shock
when it had gone beyond its shortness
and it couldn’t even spell
couldn't even get words right
floating in a soup of red lines in Word or in Mac’s Pages
and so it took its own life
or someone stabbed it like they did to o’erweening Macbeth
or to our poor, poor misunderstood Rasputin who being a Saint was thought a Devil
but was all humble
as the shortest poem in the uni-verse
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
Goodbye , . . .
Yes goodbye . . .
(Blah , blah , blah)
In the shortness of his breath
All desperation was taking place
I walk off
Looking at the far off , into space
The game is over
Nobody . . . no one
Scored and won
We all lost . . .
The then ,
In a notebook
While sitting on the park bench
Where he once was
A poet king
The old man jots down
(A poem about lost youth
Past days and dreams of
better days to come)
Meanwhile . . .
The sun crossed the sky
East to West
And the day was never seen
Or heard from again
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters
Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.
This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.
Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves
Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans
This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” –
This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!
And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!
Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists
This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.
This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
a familiar tightness and shortness of breath
slips into my chest...
college always does this to me.
it's not even the work.
i can do the work
like a prisoner doing his time
it's the people that i can't do.
why am i so socially awkward?
i am a triumph among those younger than me
but people my own age
make me feel like a snail
hiding in a shell in plain sight
where i could easily be stepped on.
i must sink into my comfortable stereotype
yes, that will help
i am a gamergirl who wears batman shirts
and plays assassin's creed in the library
move along, ugg boots.
nothing to see here.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
795
Her final Summer was it—
And yet We guessed it not—
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within—
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain—
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post—
At Our Stupidity—
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay—
So busy was she—finishing—
So leisurely—were We—
3.3k
so you're dying.
I don't want to believe it,
even though,
I see it.
I see it in the agony of your smile
and how much it hurts you to do so.
I see it in your shortness of breath,
with the weakening of your step;
but the strength has not left.
That blasted leukemia,
why not somebody else?
Someone who doesn't give a ****
about their health.
It's unfair.
Seeing you there.
Chemo after chemo
one transfusion after the next,
your body is giving up,
the ability to heal has dissipated,
although your spirit has illuminated,
****** you gave it your best!
Don't ever stop breathing,
please just take a breath.
Don't ever stop breathing.
Don't.
Ever.
Stop.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
****** window screens and
Spray-painted limousines
Broken fingernails
Collecting dust in water pails
Chewed mosquito bites,
Lurking men of the night
Procession of death,
Headaches and shortness of breath
Physical or mental abuse,
Which road will you choose?
Abstinence with a keyhole of trust,
Unknown of love, engulfed in lust
Short distance and reoccurring sunsets,
a sunrise of jealously paired with eternal fret
Frustration, confusion, nothing less,
Hope is lost as you fail that test
Life mirrors’ a repetitive game
No purpose just filled with hallow halls and shame
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:50 PM UTC
******* baby-voice-fake,
carrying around that ego of yours
(where'd you even get it?)
stringing your hair into
strands and
straggles,
painting your lips attention-whore red,
parading around those
scars on your arms -
******* try-too-hard-fake,
making noise to make noise,
words that aren't words and
thoughts that aren't yours,
i'm not hearing it.
smiling and then secretly
hateful and spreading
lies
(you were ***** you were molested,
you were exploited, you were robbed)
tip-toed on poser-high heels,
chopping your hair into stunted shortness
(a rat-nest red-chemical version
of mine)
you can **** off.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
If any of the following side effects occur while taking prednisone, check with your doctor immediately:
More common
Aggression
agitation
anxiety
blurred vision
decrease in the amount of *****
dizziness
fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse
headache
irritability
mental depression
mood changes
nervousness
noisy, rattling breathing
numbness or tingling in the arms or legs
pounding in the ears
shortness of breath
swelling of the fingers, hands, feet, or lower legs
trouble thinking, speaking, or walking
troubled breathing at rest
weight gain
Incidence not known
Abdominal or stomach cramping or burning (severe)
abdominal or stomach pain
backache
****** black, or tarry stools
cough or hoarseness
darkening of skin
decrease in height
decreased vision
diarrhea
dry mouth
eye pain
eye tearing
****** hair growth in females
fainting
fever or chills
flushed, dry skin
fractures
fruit-like breath odor
full or round face, neck, or trunk
heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous)
increased hunger
increased thirst
increased urination
loss of appetite
loss of ****** desire or ability
lower back or side pain
menstrual irregularities
muscle pain or tenderness
muscle wasting or weakness
nausea
pain in back, ribs, arms, or legs
painful or difficult urination
skin rash
sleeplessness
sweating
trouble healing
trouble sleeping
unexplained weight loss
unusual tiredness or weakness
vision changes
vomiting
vomiting of material that looks like coffee grounds
Some prednisone side effects may not need any medical attention. As your body gets used to the medicine these side effects may disappear. Your health care professional may be able to help you prevent or reduce these side effects, but do check with them if any of the following side effects continue, or if you are concerned about them:
More common
Increased appetite
Incidence not known
Abnormal fat deposits on the face, neck, and trunk
acne
dry scalp
lightening of normal skin color
red face
reddish purple lines on the arms, face, legs, trunk, or groin
swelling of the stomach area
thinning of the scalp hair
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Shortness of breathe
and weakness of knees
unable to blink
and unable to think.
My heart is bleeding out
and the blood is freezing around my rib cage
and I thought you were cold blooded.
Repetition
repetition
repetition
bad poetry
and sunken ambitions.
Change comes in a blink of an eye
but all I can see is our past
since there will be no future.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
in moonlight whispers love fills my heart
and glass with wine, and magnifies
my soul to tenderness.
the biting, scraping, lustful pining
for distant and abhorrent truth
is solace in place of reality.
a reality where we address the trauma
of unkind childhoods, bloodied knees,
and chipped teeth.
misunderstandings that follow the gap
in a shortness of breath before an apology.
that remind you that your thoughts
can only love if you do.
and years later you will have some drunken
outpour that darkens the moonlight
and comfort, but makes way
to some otherworldly dawn beyond
the you that reads this now.
Jul 25, 2023
Jul 25, 2023 at 5:10 AM UTC
One memory
Would endure everything
Always coming back like the bounding footprints left beneath each drop of rain
And that is
The smell of her hair in the morning air
The stringiness and collective song
The shortness of breath
The vibrance of wave
And all at the length of a violin's strings born long
Torn is such a memory of song
Between fondness and regret
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
To an asthmatic like me,
who feels pain in her chest,
has shortness of breath,
and can't stop wheezing,
when her asthma is triggered.
To puff her inhaler,
begging for the medication to work.
Only to hear two empty puffs.
And just like me,
the inhaler is ******* wind too.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
As I look at short films based on love and happiness a feeling of pure want flows deeply into my chest and spreads through my whole body.
To look at someone in their eyes and not give into my instinct of looking away is foreign.
I miss the comfort of love.
I miss the smile love creates.
I miss the me that had someone to fight for, someone to defend.
Someone to jump off a bridge for.
when your in love the air is different,
gravity changes,
priorities change,
love...
I miss the person i was when i was in love.
A non broken smile
A filled heart
I've been alone for quite some time now
the only time i truly miss it all is when i see love in peoples eyes
its crazy to me how when someone is truly in love you can actually see it in their eyes...
i guess thats how powerful it all is
I believe to have forced myself to forget how amazing it is to be in love
i feel so dull now
i feel so filled with everything that has to do with absolutely nothing without love we cease to have any purpose.
i want to love
a genuine pure honest and crazy love
i remember what that feels like and its the best feelings i have ever felt. i want it.
Butterflies
relentless butterflies
Flowing through my veins and making me weak to my knees
Shortness of breath
Tingling
Invincibility
like if nothing else in the world matters at that specific moment when you are looking into her eyes
her oh so beautiful memorizing eyes
Surrender
Submission
Forfeit to all the walls your monsters and your past have built in you for so long
The end of the superficial world you live on the outside and the reemerging of the everything you are on the inside
The universe within you that you work so hard to hide from others coming to light and making home in the visible world
Being in love does all this to you
Oh how i long for that greater power to infect my blood stream, unfreeze my heart, brake everything the monsters have built, and bring the real me to light so that the whole world can see that I'm still there
One day
I can't wait for that day
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
You make me frustrated -
Frustrated that when I look at you
And think to say I love you,
The word falls short
Like the shortness of breath you cause
When your eyes connect with mine
It frustrates me that
You make me feel
What no dictionary has a proper word for.
So how then will I convey
The stutter of my heart
When you whisper my name,
Making all the world just fall away,
Till it's just you and me?
Tell me how I'm supposed to let you know
That I'm nauseous with bliss when you walk my way
And that I'm shivering and rubbing and holding myself
In a futile attempt to escape the cold
That comes when you're gone?
Tell me how I'm supposed to, in one phrase,
Light the understanding of your consciousness
Like you light my life with your presence,
Getting you to see that I don't just love you,
But that you frustrate me?
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
I am one to have my emotions under control.
Seventeen years of maneuvering around other’s
Peculiar mood swings
Taught me how to ignore
The chaos of human sentiment.
And so my features remain stoic since.
I have learned how to channel the anxiety
Manifesting itself in a jittery leg, shortness of breath,
And a discordant mind.
It is possible– Quite easy, actually–
To translate a torrent of worry
Into potential energy.
Three years in a closet
Is time enough to collect many pretty dresses
And forget there is ugliness in the world.
As much as I preach the virtue of honesty,
Lying has become second nature,
If only to keep these shark-infested waters
Calm for one more day.
I ought to be devoid of sentiment by now,
As much of a shell as that detestable Louisa Bounderby.
However, I recently found myself mistaken;
I am not a product of Utilitarianism.
Recently, I’ve been feeling–
Oddly ill.
With a loss of appetite,
A churning stomach herbal tea cannot alleviate,
Difficulty sleeping,
And a racing heartbeat.
These symptoms are purely somatic
And therefore, quite frustrating.
I met a girl last week;
I wonder if I caught it from her.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
a pale night
two more estranged
in the passing of time forgotten
promises mistimed
and eternity can end in an instant
a sudden death to tumors long malignant
(let us remember the error of our ways,
the taste of blood when suckling an open wound)
it's new nihility embodied
and shortness of breath
when looking at night's pearl eye
drown out in stillness
double-time, my heart
frantic, my lungs
so beautiful and toxic
our morning flower dies
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
"You taught me the courage of stars before you left
how light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite
how rare and beautiful it is to even exist."
-Copyrights to these lyrics go to Sleeping at Last, from the song Saturn
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
Words
words to say
words to say for those who possess a quiescent soul
vibrations forming into susurrus breathes,
spun by Love.
Love is an oxymoronic, overly celebrated,
seemingly sempiternal happening that is eternally ephemeral,
lasting
a
very
short
t
i
m
e.
Love speaks with words that no matter how
dis-joint-ed
sound wonderfully euphonious -
a sonic euphoria
a billet-doux made from absolutely nothing
but
the very
rawness
of being absolute.
Love is a little more than
chimerical.
Love is a clinquant aubade that requires redamancy.
redamancy.
Love requires love to exist in it's eternal shortness,
to exist
in the mere seconds that are allowed
to exist in the ephemeral time frame of a blip in space
of decades and decades that no one will rememeber and that will not matter to the masses
and
will mean
absolutely nothing to everyone else except
for the one that is awake enough to look directly at
Love.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
My heart is in throbbing tone
My hands are as cold as stone
Sleepless, I become restless
Shortness of air, I become breathless
Controlling emotions seems helpless
An emotional distress
In the realization of my hyperventilation
I get dizzy and sleepy
My mind is on overdrive worry
Voices have strained my mind
And the Echoes have drained my body
Into a slumpy Winnie.
© Pax
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC