"sorta" poems
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special…
You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel…
I like you.
You get all those feelings…
Those butterflies you can’t stomach,
That heart rate you can’t put at ease,
So baby …
Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled
Darling with the endless amount of love…
your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees,
but could your love belong to me someday?
Be given to me?
Can you feel the way I do for you?
& Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here
Lover, who writes me poems,
You should know I write you too.
I write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And baby, you're one of them.
And boy who played me a song,
Sweet sounds bow down to my ears,
And the way you play your guitar…
& the way I daydream about kissing your lips...
I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth
send electric shocks through my body
Cutie… with the funny jokes,
You make me laugh.
Today you made me laugh,
like you always do,
you’re the only one who can now a days.
Baby, with those sparkling eyes,
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I can’t have you now
because you ruined it
It hurts to think about it,
So I have to block you out.
Play your songs to someone else,
Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else,
And go find… someone else.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
You are my pink skies with candy floss clouds
My open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms
and green feathered sparrows singing tunes of your favourite songs that sound kinda-something-sorta like your voice,
The walls in my castle populated perfectly with portraits of you
and you already know portraits are my favourite.
Somehow my imagination bound beautifully with my reality such that I could tell no difference.
You are my Utopia.
But utopia is subject to interpretation.
You like candy floss occasionally, pink is not your favourite colour and I do not even know what your favourite flower is
Without forgetting to mention, you prefer beaches.
You like puns, peaches, foxes and fairies but my world has none of that, I want to accept those but you will not have it any other way.
I want our worlds to collide but in a more subtle way, but when that kinda thing happens it is almost always apocalyptic
So, what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all.
My utopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts.
Be sure to check out Utopian Dystopia Pt. 2!
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
teacher sent me to the doctor's office
teacher sent me home
teacher sent me to the place
where all the foul things roam
teacher gave me tic-tacs
to swallow when i'm sad
teacher said the chemicals
will make me sorta mad
teacher dries my eyes up
with platitudes enough
to even console all the kids who
are made of smarter stuff
teacher says confusion
is not a cause for shame
i'm not quite sure what teacher means
but i listen all the same
teacher treading tip-toed
lowering the tone:
"i'll help you with the theory here
but you'll practice on your own."
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
she’s skinny
**
her waist is the size of the outside of her mirror
her stomach is empty
when she breaths in
she sorta stays there
**
but she’s skinny
she’s skinny
she cuts
more than she eats
but she’s skinny
she’s skinny
**she pretends her birthday makeup will change
anything
**
but she’s skinny
she’s skinny
**
she can barley breathe**
but she’s skinny
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
All I know is that some days I find myself curled up on the floor, eyes red, lips shaking, thinking that if I could, I would have given up on myself long ago.
So that is why I doubt you will love me. I cannot even love myself.
I must start off by saying I am a frustrating person.
You can swear I'm beautiful and that you'll never leave,
but I will not believe you.
Some days you will find me crying for no reason and think I am insane.
You are right.
I am a paradox. I am hot and cold, okay then shattered.
I am a roller-coaster ride, a wild, reckless soul with a heartbreaking past and demons in my mind.
Maybe I am looking for someone to save me, and maybe I am looking for someone to save. I haven't decided yet.
I am tied down by my fears and insecurities, plagued with bad memories that run through my mind every time someone says they love me.
How can you love a broken girl?
A girl who is not whole.
A girl who cannot even trust you because trusting always lead to heartbreak at the end of the day, feeling naive, played like a toy by the eyes of a beautiful boy.
A girl who is paranoid because she knows there are prettier, funnier, smarter, nicer girls, and she thinks she could never add up, and if you want only her, there must be some sorta catch.
And if you can get past these walls, break past the barriers I keep around to protect this damaged heart of mine, and you withstand every test I throw your way, if you stay even when I make you want to leave sometimes, just know that I will forever be yours, and I will hand over my battered heart in shaking hands, hoping it will be enough, hoping you will not break me even more.
We are two broken people, and together we will be whole.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
One fine morning
on my way to work
I met a real dinosaur
in big boots and a mischievous smirk
I’m kinda lonely he said
just visiting this town
I don’t have any friends
and thats bringing me kinda down
He looked kinda sad
with his tiny Dino eyes
I’d have to call in late
and explain it to the office guys
First we went out for ice cream
then we played a video game
He cracked a lot of dinosaur jokes
which were all kinda lame
When he would laugh
his mouth would open wide
Which sorta kinda scared me
and made me want to hide
His Dino tail would wiggle
and his laces would always come loose
It was funny trying to watch him
tie up his dinosaur shoes
Then we went to Iceland
and all the rides were cool
It was really spectacular seeing a dinosaur
floating in the swimming pool
Then we were really hungry
and we went out to dine
He scared all the waiters and waitresses
and drank up all the wine
I climbed up on his back
and he went for a run
Omigosh this day was perfect
I was having so much fun
Everywhere we walked
people screamed and ran
at the big stomping dinosaur
causing all the traffic jams
If only they would listen
If only they could see
Mr. Dinosaur is just a nice guy
just like you and me
Our perfect day was over
Dino had to go back home
probably back to Jurassic Park
and left me here alone
Next morning at work was a ******
such a tiresome bore
I just wanted to leave the office
and run out the office door
When the clock stuck five
I finally decided to leave
I left my dull office
and Lo & behold I just could not believe
Standing before me
in front of my very eyes
stood my dinosaur buddy
what a nice surprise!
We talked and talked for hours
even after dark
and when the day was over
I decided to move in to Jurassic Park
Now we’re never lonely
Dinosaur and me
Dinosaur has a friend
and I have family
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
you brought a light into my life,
yet had the knife ready to take yours,
many times i disarmed your thoughts away from self harm,
you always did say i had a sorta charm,
always there for you when i heard the alarm,
but when mine went off you ran away into some one else's arms,
told you from the start this ain't no one-way street,
we each got our own heartbeat,
so for this to be concrete you gotta be able to stand on your own two feet,
yet when the other one falls,
remember to help them back up,
not just walk away like a thot,
cause that ain't how a team works.
© Try
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
So live darling. Live reckless and brazen. Don’t you dare hide how you feel & never try to meet the set standards. Don’t think, just do. Forget how it’s ‘supposed’ to go, and all that could go wrong. Disregard all the illogical cause and effects Society determines. Ignore the 99% likely outcome and go after that 1% with everything you’ve got, kid. ‘Cause if something or someone makes you happy or gives you a sorta feeling you can’t explain, even if it’s just for a little while- ignore all the ‘advice’ & the whole doing the ‘right’ thing, and hold on to it till your lungs give out, regardless of what form you get it in. Here’s the truth darling; life’s too short for norms and logic. Too short to hide your feelings and god knows, way too short to spend even a second unhappy & restrained due to fear and the abstract ideas that things are meant to go a certain way. So if you love someone, scream it at the top of your lungs, and if you feel like crying, collapse and shatter. Live impulsively because there’s nothing purer than the desires of the heart.
-c.j.m
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Cautionary visions visit in viciously vivid fashion
I'm dead and my head is missing
Everyone is laughing
But me
And the sky is sorta dreary but I don't know
With no eyes you don't see too clearly
Sew me a new one on,
Attached at the neck
Plastic instead of brittle skin and maybe then
I can exist in some form above the normally gray and grim
I pray to a faceless facade
I made a "God" in my head
An eternal alternative to turn to and blame
And claim to strangers that he works in mysterious ways
My lips are chafed from singing unheard praises
I'm tasteless and it has me thinking that maybe my mouth was only a product of my imagination
**Food for thought I chew and stop
Its too **** hot for contemplation**
Still, I used to think my hands belonged to someone else
Right up until I used them both to **** myself
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 12:38 PM UTC
You are my morning cup of coffee,
My hot, steamy, caffeinated beverage made to wake me up,
I sip you,
Bitter,
Some sugar to cheer you up?
I dowse you in vanilla cream…
Any better my darling?
How come you are so nasty?
Not a morning person either?
Well I can't blame you,
Why do I think I drink so much of you?
Because I like you?
Well I do,sorta, the effects you bring to me are quite uplifting,
I shake,
Nervously,
Oh you startle me and delight me,
I feel comforted as you break open into my bloodstream,
My body on fire and ready to start my long and trying day,
Maybe we can get through this together,
Another cup is what I think I need of you,
Whether bitter or not we can make it through,
So my little cappuccino, so frothy and frilly,
I want you to know that I need you,
Like to start my morning, my every morning
Whether you are just black, or a venti latte with skim and carmel syrup stirred inside,
Or else I be stuck in bed all the time
There be no you to keep me awake or alive,
No reason to go outside and try,
No motivator, no mover, just me living my days on my own,
How terribly depressing I must add,
So I'll keep you company if you keep on stirring my brain with your caffeinated ways
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
My friend and I talk about it
Neighborhood got decimated this year
One after another the corners of community are gone
We touch the elder memories
as one might touch a head in blessing
as loved ones pass
We linger longest over John
Found dead after ten hot days
by other-worldly hazmat crew
flanked by cruisers
with their special, yellow truck
and zipper bags
...found 'im
glasses folded neatly on the night stand
in his jammies
all tucked into bed
No one thought it strange
that strange young guy would die
already decomposing in his head
Lost
among his personal effects
his fleet of rusting cars
and half-assed projects
Deck tacked to garage
his herds of “pets”
Easy to pretend he wasn't really there
between jail stints or some imagined threat or theft
of crap
haunted by the shadows of his persecutors
caught in motion lights
and cameras' blinding evidence of
jungle-jumble and malfunctioning alarms
going off in the wind
Everyone's out to get his stuff
We could dismiss him--
mostly
sorta
...except for times
he mowed his grass at night
or hand-built “the lunatic tower”
just for mom
from scavenged scraps and
hammered hours
power-sawed
through the housing codes
and horror
of the neighbors...
...Such a special spectacle...
******* crazy-- John!
He was enough for one day at a time
like when
he flung that threatening bolder
on bilco doors
for percussive effect
"Get off my fuckin' property!”
(not using his “inside voice")
“Next time, that'll be your head!!
He announces his intent
to not get mad, behave himself
to call the cops on me instead
Fake-dialing
While his mother screams in dread
“John is off his meds!”
My phone is set to speed dial
911
____
“How did we miss this?
How did we not miss him those quiet days?”
How we miss him now
How quiet
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
All I saw was an *** - twitching;
as it sashayed through the doorway,
pert n tight n denim clad,
think the legs were rather fine too,
not too sure though,
the *** kinda jiggled in an intoxicating
hypnotic rhythmic fashion,
sorta *** didi *** didi *** *** ***
it was muscular, without being overly developed,
I had a really deep desire to bite it;
chew on it a liddle !
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
I’m in need,
of a savior.
Just something,
to pull me tight,
and tell me,
no,
don’t go,
I need you.
But life,
isn’t the movies.
You’re the one,
who told me,
that line.
I kinda sorta,
always thought,
life was ironic,
the way it,
worked out.
How I’d say stop,
and the sign,
well it would,
yell at me,
to go.
Swallow the lump,
turn around,
but no,
no,
not this time,
I gotta,
go,
I’m going to,
run.
I’m sorry,
I’m going home,
to the fields of daffodils,
and dandelions,
that we make wishes on.
Even if,
they may,
or may not,
come true.
That’s,
what’s fun.
Life will never,
be the movies,
but it’s certainly,
a song.
Sep 22, 2023
Sep 22, 2023 at 9:54 AM UTC
You've made me reconsider everything I thought
And change all the conclusions that I've ever been brought
You made me stare in adoration from the way you talk
To the way you have confidence and swagger in your walk
And when you dance, I see eyes filled with passion and drive
And from the audience, it looks like you become more alive
I see happiness, as if it's really the only time
You can feel such emotion and I understand why
You seem to fascinate me and I seem to admire you
Cause I love to know things like your past and what inspires you
How you hold yourself, your humor type, and I desire you
And I can't tell you why cause usually I enjoy solitude
But I'm so drawn to you, I think of you all the time
I wanna be snuggled in your arms, your lips pressed against mine
Cause with everybody else I'll just say oh yeah I'm fine
But I actually can mean it when I'm with you and I won't lie
I feel endless smiles and countless butterflies
And I can't take the stare you give me from your ****** eyes
So I look down, and fidget & become sorta shy
When it's all realization I finally got a great guy
For months it's been strange cause I haven't just cried
Cause we're fighting over nonsense or cause somebody lied
Or your ignoring me, cheating, beating, not treating me right
Im not used to this but it's all been relieving and nice
I gaze at you and I wonder if sometimes you catch me
Cause I'd stare all day if I could and if you'd let me
My love for you is strong and becoming very heavy
I rarely get the chance to meet people who don't regret me
You're what makes me happy
And wake up in the morning
Go to school, see you
And I see now what is forming
I'm just so in love and I would never ever leave you
Cause I don't just want you anymore, I'm beginning to need you...
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
Listerine fountains are falling,
breaking through the roof,
shingles like helicopter blades,
scratching up my face.
Your mouth is making violent motions
and I can see mirages between your teeth.
It took me a long time to master,
but I can't here the news on repeat;
I don't want to anymore.
I don't know what you thought
mismatched socks would accomplish,
but those mixed with an heated face
sorta make my scull feel like
marzipan.
5, 4, 3, frozen in the moment,
right before a scream.
2, my iPod crumbles in hand,
just like the game I always lose.
1...one, one, one...
I blocked that out too.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
“Disaster Dan” skids into the Center's
Game Room
War Room
Control Room
Fueled by a red T-shirt
proclaiming “Vince the Pizza Prince”
He flips out his cellular...
“IT ISN'T UP TO ME!"
(Where does he get all those broken remotes?)
...flips open his cell
and shouts commands
“TURN THE POWER ON!"
“YA HEARD ME!" (He is totally in control)
“Fsssss Fssssss Fsssssss
THE PIPES ARE ABOUT TO BLOW!”
Drives his cruiser around the pool table
Pulls alongside
Fixes me point-blank and cockeyed
“GET THESE KIDS OUTA THE BUILDING!
THERE'S A BOMB ABOUT TA GO OFF!”
An eight-year-old spins iz finger round iz ear
and points a giggle
Dan--
the kind of guy whose life peaked
at Mount Saint Helen
Does a warlock for Halloween
Carries a portable showcase of horror
prized possessions in a dishpan
He explains his treasures
“That is NOT
a plastic scorpion!”
Offended by my ignorance
shoves it in my eyes
“THIS IS A PREDATOR ALIEN, STUPID!"
“CALIFORNIA WILL NOT COME BACK!"
Dan sorta likes me
We talk horror flicks
He forbids the serious of me
"CALIFORNIA WILL FALL OFF INTO THE OCEAN!”
he hisses in a spray of spit
Walks way, laughing, delighted!
Shaking iz head
Then back in my face again (for emphasis)
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
(He is dead serious)
"THE GUY THAT CAUSED THAT HURRICANE
WAS PAUL MCCARTNEY!"
His counselor fills in my blank
“Dan likes the Beatles
That's the only thing he likes
that isn't heinous”
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
funny about the walls we built
during hours spent digging up
crazy things we all felt
made up out of garbage.
why could nobody stop the war
when it climbed into their screens?
when everyone's favorite thing turned off
you could see the sky flickering for miles.
that day was my favourite day.
it stood still against the bright
blue backdrop and you could
hear the angels taking pictures
on their smartphones laughing
about how foolish we were
for believing in them.
back then I didn't know
how to look at all the walls
building up on the earth
or at the angels with smartphones.
but now it sorta feels like maybe
I've found a place to be near them
by trains in the union yard
in the streets walking slowly
and at home with my feet
burried underneath the ***** dishes
laughing about how foolish
I am to believe.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
I wish i could explain myself
Fully explain myself...
Stop delivering pain to myself
Be deliberate, and save myself
Instead of filling out the page by myself
Speak in full sentence to you by myself
I'm tired of being lame by myself
Not interested in fame by myself
So the emotions on the page are for myself
I wish i could give them to you myself
Explain why i need all of you to myself
I sorta need saving from myself
And you know what else...
I'm getting used to it being me and myself.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 6:50 AM UTC
Her Father's old wool jacket,
from Johnson Mills,
in creamy white,
dark forest green,
golden amber,
in a lovely patchwork,
A soft dark winter tuke on her head,
that dark green in the background,
with rusty speckles on her cheeks,
Wet snow falls silent,
the sky is a crisp Winter blue,
the air is cold and clear,
& intoxicatingly clean,
As she breathes life in and out,
then,
looking down at her black Sorel boots
and her worn black denim jeans,
a nice old holey wool sweater,
and a maul,
A **** lumberjack?
Maybe...
Dressed to hack the wood,
the plumber thinks so,
he stops by,
a friend of hers,
sorta,
Huh?
Not invited,
but no one is around here,
we all do it,
so he helps too,
Hey I'll make lunch,
harmless flirting,
I suppose,
Because,
wood warms you 3 times they say,
Once to chop it,
two to stack it RIGHT,
three to bring it in & burn it,
But if you count the starting of the,
cantankerous chainsaw & the guy,
helping you,
And you hafta arrange & rearrange, everything,
cleaning the flue and chimney,
I'd say a few more than that,
& don't ferget to pay the man,
the cantankerous one,
Yeah he got lunch too,
and about them ashes,
could be pretty hot,
take 'em out regular,
that stove cranking too,
OUCH,
She ends up gets burned,
a few times each year,
Taday,
she's on step too,
as she picks up the heavy maul,
not to heavy for this gal,
all the way back,
watch yourself,
As a neighbor winches,
a woman chopping wood?
Yup.
That's right,
a way of life,
for her,
always has been,
poised and ready,
swing and smack,
if you hit it right,
you hear a crack,
Just like a baseball bat,
hitting a homer,
Big pieces,
are made more manageable,
when you don't try to control the force,
when you let the sharpened maul,
Do all the work,
for you.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
"Hah! You look so ridiculous!
What are you, some sorta freak?"
"Well, you look so status-quo,
very much like everyone else.
Wearing this, I'll meet interesting people,
wearing that, you'll meet boring people.
To be certain,
I am at least one kind of freak,
but at least I serve to entertain:
you're welcome for the free smile."
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
If I didn't know better
I'd say you love me
For my baking
That you love me
Because I don't care
That you sorta wish
You could be a girl and that I
In fact
Enjoy the idea of you wearing girl's clothes
The idea that you are a nerd
A debate geek
Antisocial
And yet you find yourself
Always
Wanting
To see me.
You tell me
That being around me
Makes the need to open up your sweetpale
Skin go away
If only
For a few days
If I didn't know better
I'd say you love me
For the sparkle of my eyes
The dance of my laugh
The sleekness of my body pressed to yours
That you loved the way I hold you when
Anxieties tendrils try to pull you under
I'd think you love
My Mind
My Heart
My Soul
My Everything
But it's just the muffins...
Right?
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
Love is too amazing
For anyone
To be sorta loved
If you’re
Going to reach for
The heart , I would
Hope that you use
Both hands
For
The heart is never a thing
To be taken lightly
Don’t try
Grabbing it with one hand
While
Holding on
To someone else’s
Heart
Never to embrace
The new
While holding on To
The old
Remember
Love isn’t love
Until
It moves beyond
Words
Action is everything
If you truly want
To be
In someone’s
Life
You will create the best
Possible
Way to get there
For
We all deserve a
Consistent kind
Of
Love
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
At first, all is good. Everything’s ok, until Christina starts to realize what kind of world we live in. A cruel one. Then everything starts to crumble into pieces. She’s hurt. People are suffering from the pain that society gives to us. ‘We blame society but we are society’- we are blaming society that that is the reason why everyone is hurting, dying of pain. Constantly being judged by one another, slowly leaving the world because the pain is too overwhelming. But we are blaming ourselves because we are the ones who are doing these actions, but sometimes, we just don’t know it. I know two people that left because they were constantly being judged on being ‘gay.’ I know people that bullied, or once bullied. I bullied too. I bullied others, because I didn’t want to be the only one feeling the pain. I’m sure you must have been bullied once in your lifetime, and you have made fun of or bullied someone else to for the same reason, or probably for a different reason. Some people tell each other to **** themselves’ and then they say it’s a joke. This is totally off topic (sorta) but I just want to say this. Telling someone to **** themselves. People have the nerve to say this, have the nerve to think its funny even if it was a joke. But that person might take it seriously, and how would you feel if that person was gone the next day, because of you. Now, I’m not saying you have done this, but im just saying in general.
Words have the power people give them.
But anyways, don’t let anyone make you feel less in any way because we are all equal. We should all be treated the same, but unfortunately we are not.
a.a.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
I sorta sleep in my underwear.
Another lie.
I sleep in the ****
when I have the energy
to remove the day's toil off of my
skin, which is not so easy.
No special creme, cleanser.
too tired to tirade, living life,
fall in to bed worn,
shoes et. al., the ones that need soles.
you already knew that.
wake up in the dark.
start to disrobe,
and soon enough, *******
another poem done.
the poem of course is me ****
so you get to see what
is under what I wear.
So I sorta sleep in my under-what-I-wear,
is not exactly a lie,
just me dissembling^
and/or disassembling
another day in this life.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
*this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too.
But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.*
V
V words lord, excluding all others,
phonetic juggernauts,
never met a V word
that had no personality.
victory is the one word that
my/our brains
think of first.
sure there is vortex, victuals, veer
and valor exam,
the latter,
what ever it means is a gift,
curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect.
but it is victory
on top,
victorious in its own way.
try it on another if you must...
what is the word that starts with a V
that first comes to mind?*
so let us talk of victories.
so oft, I write in the dark,
even as I do now.
came home soul weary,
face worn-worry,
gotta go out to meet
Peter Bogdanovich later,
to chat about his latest movie.
woman looks me over.
X-ray glance,
an MRI of my heart,
no deductible charged,
but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed!
Peter will keep,
tonight you're-mine,
to bed I send,
right after we consume
Large Thin Mush,
cause pizza with shrooms contains
mood serotonins,
that erase the
"pain of the day"
that be a victory nonpareil.
a Waterloo, a Normandy landing,
that be a victory where
both sides hug and kiss,
and make with their long,
stubby Churchillian fingers,
V's all night long
with goofy grins,
cigars and bowler hats,
just to go along.
so here I am in the dark,
having been "put" to bed,
one mo' time,
slicing and dicing letters
into a word-salade,
instead of resting.
dreaming of the day
when I can no longer need to
pretend to be a Seuss, but truly,
can be writing poems for all my
children~friends.
one for each letter
of the alphabet,
teaching us to write
upon our faces
laugh lines thin and fine,
mine, ours, yours.
product of pizza poems,
some that come not circular,
but tonite shaped
just like a woman,
just like a
V.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC