"snippet" poems
velcro wallet
was navy, i think
gray plastic zipper
grandma gave you
i had a locket
it had your picture inside
but you threw it away
because you looked like a rabbit
apparently
hair fluffed, eyes puffy
two teeth and two hours
of squirming on a photo booth
plastic coin pouch
small crayola blue
walmart sticker on a side
but it never made me smile
not like that piggy bank did
yard sale treasure
dinosaur-shaped
no smashing to withdrawl
our tooth fairy dollars and dust
still, you crammed stink bugs
down the long neck's back
now, a denim bag on my bed
rhinestoned one in the closet
and your wallet is
real leather, i think
has superheroes on it
rough and grungy
as the comic books in the attic
or, did you toss those too?
who needs a screwdriver
without a *****
that's all money was
just hardware we didn't have
much use for
but there is more than one way
to use a tool
so here, i'll paint it straighter
who needs a coffin without a corpse?
especially when we were
so full of life back then
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
This world is happening around you,
but a snippet of it
is in your control.
No one else has access to it
like you do.
You've unlocked its password,
and you're in.
You made it into this universe,
this story.
Now, what are you waiting for?
Make the most of it!
Go discover this world you are in!
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:25 AM UTC
You said
That I can tell you anything
You said
That you are always there for me
Well it doesn’t seem like that
The other day
I told you a tiny snippet
Only a little drop in the sea
About my anxieties
About my irrational fears
I wanted to tell you for so long
But I am never going to do it again
Because the face you made when I voiced my feelings
That hurt
Your expression said that I don’t make sense
That I am crazy
That that’s totally ridiculous
That I am making it up
I mean, I can tell you the basic stuff
The everyday problems
But not about my mind
Not about my real reasons to cry
You said you want to hear
But you actually don’t
You know
it would be fine
If I had anyone else
to talk to
But you are aware that I don’t
And you make me think
that no one will ever want to listen.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
Write it down
10 times then
Erase it again
My mind is
Racing again
Emotions
raging again
My eraser is gone
Before I even
sharpen the pencil
another line I delete
And I sigh in defeat
I hate what I write
I can't stick to beat
I swear that I can
Rhyme mean
If only I could pick a
Rhyme sceme
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:47 PM UTC
[Offical Snippet]
first, it was a dream, maybe more than one
then it turned to an endless nightmare
because you were smiling not to the face of mine
saw you with him under the tree
there was no doubt that he was perfect
while I wasn't worth it
☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩
@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
My cousin told me that I am a good storyteller, but I should write something about me, about real people and a time that I was scared "shitless". Well, I can only think of one time of a real life shocker that shook up my young world. It's nothing suspenseful. It probably wouldn't win any contests, but it isn't contrived. It's a snippet of the first time that I encountered the raw reality of death.
What did I know about death at eight years old? Our parakeet, Perky, died. My grandparents dog, Bruno, had to be put to sleep. As a girl, I vaguely recall seeing a dead man in a coffin, and that was at the funeral of my mom's aunt's husband. This was only an introduction of the temporary world we live in.
Well, then there was an older couple two doors down from us. They had two grandchildren that used to come and visit them, a sister and brother. When in the neighborhood, they would play with my older brothers. I cannot even recall their names. I cannot remember what they looked like or what they said.
What I do remember is the news being on in the living room, and I was eating dinner in the kitchen with my mom and brothers. Suddenly, the faces of that brother and sister were on TV. It was reported that their mentally troubled mother had killed them. I think it was because she was denied custody of them in an ugly divorce. Doing a little bit of digging in the Michigan death index online, I rediscovered who they were. They were Susan and Richard. They were ten and nine-years-old at the time.
I surely don't remember plenty of details, as this was in June of 1973. Over forty years ago, it's a much faded memory now. I only know I did not go to the funeral home. If I did, I am sure I'd be horrified to look upon those children who were robbed of their lives. Death was no longer just for pets or old people. It wasn't fair and it didn't discriminate in age. And if it could happen to someone as young as them, it could come knocking on my door.
Perhaps, that was the beginning of my fear of death.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
[Offical Snippet]
When we all sparkle,
It's brighter than hate,
Brighter than fade.
☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩
@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
a ladybug in spacious blue
splattering specks of red and black
with miniature aerial stunts
that speckle through uncaring air
it takes a keen eye to notice
a ladybug in spacious blue
a tiny snippet of fancy
in the otherwise simple sky
whizzing past wonderfully so
no trail or perfect plan concerns
a ladybug in spacious blue
her patterns flying forward fast
unhindered by specks of debris
fitting an insect debonair
sweetly dressed for a world's party
a ladybug in spacious blue
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
In the floodgates
of forever
I see you standing,
arms out, so ready
the multiple layers
of silky delicious
that we have created
until now
swirling about us,
a storm of veils
beckoning like sea waifs
and I am opening up
like never before
my heart practically
out of my chest
until it is
flying forth,
a mythical
winged creature,
prehistoric birdling
and you,
with your strong arms
your third eyelight
turned on
catch it
hold it
nuzzle it
until the rest of me
can reach you
bursting forward
through swathes
of time
turbulence a mere
snippet
and we meld
and merge like oceans
hearts lit up
in electrical surge
time and place not existing
We are the sea.
We are the Earth.
We are the desert velvet
We are the wonder
in the hallways
of our arteries
We are the bloodflow
heartflow
of the universe within us
We reign the
ever changing existence
that keeps us whole
allowing room to breathe
to bloom in mystical
wild gardens
yet binding
through realms
of our light's
endless expansion
our souls embracing
as we dream future visions
upon our tongues
and as I gaze upon you
our eyes a magnet
you ignite my glow,
the king of my citadel
festooned with
flowerbuds
for your
queen
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
Life is one of those questions we would all like to answer
Love is a game that we all like to play.
Play with our hearts and feelings
we do this every single day.
Sometimes through happiness,
sometimes regret,
sometimes things can happen that we'd all like to forget.
Yet we will get on with our lives and rarely ever let,
another player roll our dice
to decide on where we go,
a day to go by without letting someone know.
Know the feelings that are in us, the need to speak the truth.
We merely just get stuck in a game, a game that we get used.
Used to playing,
together or alone.
People state that.
the heart it is a home
A home we welcome visitors to,
Stay.
Linger there forever, or just spend a day.
A memory is a moment that is forged down deep within our heart, it is a single solitary snippet of life with which you cannot part.
Let go of or forget.
It's part of our life.
It's become part of this game.
It's there until game over, it shall always here remain.
Pulled into contention as part of the big question that is;
What's the meaning of life?
as within yourself you question,
what if?
What of this love I felt, how can it now cease, was it destined to be my life, my answer, my secret *** of gold.
The love the stories mention that you shall never get to hold.
Hold in your arms, with their head upon your chest.
Hold upto the skies as they rise above the rest.
Its something to always ponder on, as if that were the case
I thought I understood the question and found my own meaning of life
Yet I'm still part of this race so there's still time to decide.
So maybe there might just be a chance, that it could be true.
Life has more than one meaning.
and maybe for me it wasn't you.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
It made his gut churn with the familiar sensation.
Guilt.
Quilted with humiliation.
A rope knotted in irritation.
Hitch after stitch,
trepidation grew,
until he could feel it in his toes...
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
You saw only
A vulnerable part of me
Full of tenderness and mischief
All wrapped up in high-pitched
Giddy laughter.
I touched your growing beard
With stories of office happenings
And little rants of hanger and stress
As your empty arms kept me close and warm.
Then you held my hand goodbye.
Boy, you only saw a snippet of me
The tropical islands I came from
And reasons why I love my family.
Done.
My empowered heart has moved on.
And I am so grateful
Because you will never know my dreams.
No.
You no longer deserve my smiles
And will never again hear my giggling.
Hold on to the memory of me
Or who you think I may be.
That's all you'll ever have
A hazy visage
And never all of me.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
she sat next to me near the window
at starbucks on
41st and madison with a journal
covered in pastel lines and a black backdrop.
on the top center read “2011 was the year i screamed
**** life’ and **** me”
as a running header. she ran
through my head, tilting this little snippet
of her brain
towards me and i swear that she looked at me
but all i could do was make the sign of the cross
hoping god heard my muffled voice, drowned out by
the sounds of yellow taxis on the crosswalk and
whispers of angels on the corners asking for my pockets.
i’ve never tasted sixty miles
per hour but i can imagine it’s the same
as when she writes “your shirt looks like my thoughts”;
i’m falling in love too easily.
i want to read every inch of your body; your arms
have the bible etched in your veins and a fifth of my poems
are scribbled on your aortas; my mother’s wedding vows
are in my right eye and my father,
my father just takes care of himself. i don’t think my eyesight is
getting any better, you slid the note two spaces down
and i think i shed a tear but i can’t remember whether
you were smiling for joy or the fact you missed my hand.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
.oh... hi y'all:
or rather - how did i find this in the noun Ohio?
i guess after watching
the disaster artist
and no having watched
the room...
the tetragrammaton
is so glaring to me
in the English tongue,
i might as well be
a reincarnation of
Belshazzar
(but not really...
because, to me,
reincarnation
implies
a fixed number
of people...
and an mingling
of solipsism from
philosophy,
and NPC from the gaming
world...
no, i can't believe
in reincarnation...
saving grace of
the Hindus?
they're not lactose intolerant;
boogie-woogie-boo-woo
ooh things are turning,
freak-y...
why is that a Y and not
an E?
see... the tetragrammaton
is glaring at me...
like an ***** protruding
phallus with the added
"flavor" of a circumcision
snippet...
me? i'm fine...
no snippet...
i can **** off as much
as i like and not feel
stupid -
or catholic, about it,
having, in my possession,
an unsheathed "sword").
p.s. it really is the case
of circumcising men
as a procreational motivation,
no ******** on you...
plenty of ******** on her...
and how the east meets
the west...
back in the east i'd be a blessing...
over 'ere?
i'm a walking abortion...
a nuisance...
something you send off
to fight in incestuous...
here's my 100 year closure celebration:
V!
like the Welsh longbow men... up yours!
who? in the 100 year war...
the French would cut off the...
**** index or middle finger?
they would cut off one of the fingers
of the Welsh longbow men...
so they could fire an arrow...
P.O.W.s...
so the Welsh longbow men
came up with V... a salute
to the French... up yours!
i still have mine!
hence? i don't feel ****** jerking off...
too bad, ol' chap,
you've been given an incentive
to find your missing ********
in a woman's *****
sorry... i actually feel sorry for
you having this imposed on you...
the missing caftan / hood and all...
sometimes i wondered:
does she even know what she's
doing performing ******** on
me? maybe i could cut my torso off
and show her how to do it?
in the east i'd be a godsend,
but in the west i'm an
embarrassment...
great in tissue... greater still
in pointless wars...
auxiliary pageant...
sure sure...
glorify the women...
last time i heard my ex-girlfriend
gave birth to her fourth child...
her fourth daughter...
i seriously should have been
born a ******* Mongol.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
a snippet of a memory
still tries to pick lock my thoughts.
leaving me with a jealous sea of unwanted, played emotions.
it's all a paradox.
a senseless act.
its like a bipolar mechanism that my mind plays and sets to record.
there's nothing more than what I extremely hate on those memories, or what i like to call them. "the hurtful files".
why does my brain punish me this way, no matter what i do, they always find ways to come back, like magnets.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 4:59 PM UTC
The lady in white turns and my gaze runs over her, I was taken aback—
This mysterious woman was like the missing puzzle piece of the black and white picture lain out in a lack of color. She is a classic beauty. Her face has all the sharp angles and the perfect pout of her red up-turned mouth, but it was her eyes which captured me.
They are actually… Actually, the color of a persimmon fruit and like a persimmon fruit; which is very flavorful if eaten at the right time of year but very astringent if eaten wrongly. This woman’s redden eyes churn with a sweet taffy, a chaotic intent bubbling below.
The sound of her mystical voice drifts towards me like glass wrap in sensual silk, poised to strike but yet a feminine edge to it.
"Hello..."
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
We are fire
We are lightning
We are thunder
We will roar
We are fighters
We are fighting
And we will keep on fighting
Till we reach our goals
We are the future
We are a revolution
We are the world
We will soar
We want more
May 13, 2022
May 13, 2022 at 4:14 AM UTC
the butterflies no longer flutter around in my belly
they've all drowned in the deep gray-like sea
of angst and exceeding worries.
your hands still continue
to wrap around my wretched heart
like grape vines, lingering around
connecting, linking, catching a grip.
please tell me a remedy to this disease
perhaps your touch or your presence
or maybe even a slight snippet of your voice.
can diminish this ****** cloud of dissatisfaction
- m.n.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Alone as I walk, these hallowed hallways, wondering who before me has taken this same pathway to wherever , my footfalls muffled within the echoes , like the baron insides of a fallen oak , or the dripping of a wooden faucet , bip , bip, bip , amidst the breeze of these fallen echoes , like rustling leaves in an autumn gust , making a unique sound of chatter , if you start to hone your ears you can actually hear the conversations, words uttered within these confines , that have never left , secrets cradled in time , moments lived , loves lost , heart to hearts , and confidant professions , no faces , just words , I often wonder when I catch a snippet of a dialogue past, to whom it may have belonged , and how it may have ended ,or to what it may have conjured, and as I find myself nearing the end of this hallway , I wonder just how many conversations have amassed between these walls , how many words continue to rebound within this portion of time , and how many others have listened , to the echoes .....To the echoes in the hall .....
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
By Arcassin B
Seen the lovin' coming from a mile away in my
Only line of vision with precision looking for a better
Future with her,
I search for growth in the dirt , I mean soil,
Granting me wishes that I soley deserve,
I got your feelings on a platter , you can't even get away from me,
The grass is greener everyday when you smile in anomaly,
The trees growing in disproportionate commonly epitome ,
Didn't make no sense there but your skin so heavenly like Angels
And their boastfulness and privileged to the recent decisions you make in your life
Thinking what I could have done if I had chosen the commandments over the
Unconsciousness world of evil at its finest component,
Wasn't ready for those moments,
I don't want my last moments,
To be a ball full of hate towards others that have not showed me respect,
You take that all in and recollect,
I'm retrospect,
Place your bet,
Love for an angel is a blessing sent,
From the Lord himself,
Gathering up all of my wealth....
/
....*a wealth-that I *- can share with you,
You don't have to say a thing , your beauty says a lot
With the features,
I know- that you've - been waiting,
for love to come sweep you off your feet
pretty baby,
the cold- will se-parate us,
in a state of loss of the love that we had for each other,
But you don't have to say a thing,
I love holding hands with you.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
"CORRUPT SOCIETY"
Ayo I live in a corrupt society treated like a slave
We're forced to work an make money for a debt we'll never pay
The world gets colder than adolf ****** when he slayed
In an Antarctic setting with tempatures dropping every day
Where rebels who fight the system are always convicted
An the real actual truth seems to come up hidden
It's missing like AWOL solders who fled there post
I wanna Emmagrat with an "E" cause this country's a joke
I feel like I've lost all hope I can't find a save haven
Dreams of svoboda an time that I can't save
Waiting on people to reply back sitting there alone
These dumb ones are jesters I'm a king apon his throne
My brain thinks of things that are unthinkable
I'm like an iceberg you see I sink the unsinkable
(To be continued)
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
After seeing her stars and collection of astronomy posters, Ellis once asked if she wanted to be an astronaut.
She simply replied, “What would be the point? It wouldn’t be any different than watching it on television.”
Ellis found this to be a pretty daft assumption but couldn’t find any real reasoning to contest it.
This memory came back to him.
He attempted to empathize a second time as he stared at the ceiling stars when the idea of the glass of an old television mimicking the glass of a cosmonaut’s helmet came to him.
As he peered through the glass, it became apparent it wasn’t that being in space didn’t feel real, but that the television was more real than people gave it credit.
Even other screens, which rarely projected the experience of walking around living, felt more real than reality.
One doesn’t need to travel to see the world, and one doesn’t need to be near someone to feel close to them.
A line that has always be present, that very glass pane, began to weaken.
Ellis began to notice a headache as he traveled down the cavernous hole of existential metaphysics.
He looked down at Ada.
This vision had blurred unknowingly while lost in thought, and he frantically attempted to re-establish himself as a being existing in this plane of reality.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
This stallion looked quite strange. His nose was round and his tail could grip. Bananas were in his feed trough. Later it was discovered that he was a quarter monkey.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
The Many Benefits of Facebook Friends
A Facebook friend wrote meaningfully:
“Give me,
Five ways to give aid to people
Of Aleppo”
(You know where Aleppo is;
It’s on the lip(s)
of all the world).
A reader sent back this small clip,
A tiny snippet:
“Meditate!
Get rid of violent thoughts,
Of evil judgments that you sow
And sown,
And temper outbreaks that you’ve known.
Don’t only sit, feel sad and moan!
That is the thing this scribe can do,
Does do and plans to do.
You do it too!”
All done and said,
That was the ‘five good things’ contributed.
When he who wrote it
Noted
This.
I wrote right back and sent a kiss.
There are ten thousand like me.
The Many Benefits Of Facebook Friends 12.19.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II; War Book II;
Arlene Corwin
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
is this craft that chose you, not defined by machine millimeters,
precision absolute, curvatures, so eye-pleasing,
they demonstrate no tolerance for tolerance of the
ordinary?
***the skill of words, too, cut so fine,
find the extraordinary within, refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite, the reused, discard the instant recognition,
unusable***
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC