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gracie Apr 2018
I see paradise
in his eyes

I see rainy day car rides
singing along to George Ezra
his voice sweet, low
dripping from his lips
like honey off a spoon

I see blanket forts
drifting asleep like a child
his chest safe, soft
rhythmically rising and falling
with every blue exhale

I see sunshine
loving in the morning
his kisses deep, warm
tousled hair upon the pillow
like a sleepy golden storm

but I see bitter tears
crying alone in the bathroom
my breath cold, hollow
aching in my throat
because he only loved my silhouette.
Donall Dempsey Jul 2018
THE DISH RAN AWAY WITH THE SPOON

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you
...can’t leave it alone.

The moon is ticking backwards
the clock don’t know why

stars are just tears
that the night has to cry.

The neon dances in the puddles in the streets...
...heartbreak echoes in the empty passing feet.

You think your life’s a musical
but it’s more Film Noir.

You look at a map that says
YOU ARE HERE
but you don’t know where you are.

The sun came in the window -
- your love walked out the door.

I always adored Country & Western
but had never lived it before.

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you...

...leave it alone!
Mac and Bloom
Went up to the Moon

With a Spoon
In search of pretty Alien

They looked here
They looked there

No Alien was found
And time was bound

They returned to earth
Only with some dust
Let's Enjoy Childhood.
Derrek Faraday Dec 2018
I've bent my mouth up to my ear
Believing in the stuff belief is made of
Milk replaced by silky biers
Losing my fingers to the Barren Baron Dove

Hurts to admit I'm stealing away
A curly knife held to my ear
Simple, crimpled, waning days
Throw unto the heart of the pier

Lark and tumble
Bark and fumble

Still those tired eyes of dust
I have found the beveled rhythm
Among the pristine clouds of rust,
Entropy's daily rhythm

Wake away the roaring morning
Rising heat in fuchsia dawn
Spend the many days adorning
The beating pulse of the lawn

Stupefied, nullified
Numb and in crumbs
A stump to the vein
A lump of sweetened pain
King Panda Sep 2016
let this be proof that on day
***
I am alive
and kicking
with nothing but a
caffeine headache
and a good
twenty days of
September
in my back pocket
but now
the cross breeze
comes and
I lament the past four
autumns
how they left me
cold
broken
and seeing women jump
off buildings
God!
Sovereign soldier!
Sinner!
Saint!
let me live more than
20 days
I am a good person
I only **** when asked
I eat spaghetti with a fork
and spoon
I once tried to jump off
a cliff
but that was then
and this is now
and the breeze is as cold
as winter
don’t think that I ever enjoyed this
time with you
don’t think that I won’t ever
try that again
I promise I won’t float
in the air
no
not this time
Jon Thenes Jul 2
-

‘you’re the only hell that I’m gonna know’

i pledge this with spears/

i greet me

goodbye of you

and approach my new interaction

with life-path,

a heaven in preproduction...

but a few steps on the road

i’ve a bone to discover...

                                                   ...i recover and cultivate

                                                   a little hellscape

                                                   that travelled within me all this time/

                                                   in some form or another

                                                   it seems i owe you

                                                   an apology/

                                                   i also harbour an imp and

                                                   without the dominance of your
                              
                             ­                      raging villain

                                                   my brute loosened from it's domesticity

                                                  /that said

                                                   you still remain

                                                   my significant

                                                   past tense

                                                   abuser
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
It's like a diamond stake pushed through the silence of my brain
It's like a thunder of voices coming down like a hurricane
It's like a forest of gunfire blowing past my bedroom door
It's like the force of a god pushing down on my floor

Whip smart, by all accounts, but lost beneath the sheets
Forced out of a comfort zone and pushed out to the streets
Spastic changing voices like a record out of line
Just speak like you always do and don't **** with my mind

I'm like a tidal wave that only gets halfway there
No shore to erode with no Taiwan to even care
I'm like a promise left on the kitchen table after dawn
Someone will find it but it will be thrown out on the lawn

Born without a spoon but there is silver in my teeth
I'm made out of as much spirit as a plastic, clearance wreath
Dust beneath the stars cancels out the dawning sun
Shine on the bums, the prophets, everyone
King Panda May 2016
this table in the
shade
these commune hippies
in the river
I wrote a poem
in my sleep
I looked at the mountains
and thought
rain
staccato
metronome
irrigation
and caps
melting
but enough of this
nature
let’s go back
to the concrete
mouth
where we walk
through the city
full of cake
bloated like
balloons
but rolling
because
cake doesn’t make
you float
no
cake only makes you
fat
the conversation turns
to the stench
there’s something dying
in the air
we leave
and roll joints
spot magnums
on tree branches
and think
only monkeys ****
in trees
and we would never
want to see
monkey ***
and ******?
no
we’d never try it
and the homeless man next to us
puts his spoon
away
but god
why do we sleep
when we just wake up?
why do we sleep
to dream
such ******-up
things
where celebrities
feed us salami in
back alleyways
and we see our mother
pooping on
world maps?
time rips of
lyrical grass
conductive smile
soap bubbles
these beautiful
dreamtime mornings
spent thinking of you
in playhouse mountains
like a child
you smile
like a friend
I offer you my hand
and we walk
to the white
together
bill withers is there
he is singing
in his yellow
turtleneck
CK Baker Oct 2017
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Third Eye Candy Jun 2013
your soul is
what tumbles
from your old youth;
toothless, mute -
and beautiful.
it disputes the diluted musical
that unfolds you...
proof-less, your lute
is full.

your soul is
where you twist rocks and fell from -
a great height, below your skin suit, dull.
it drew you
with resolute ink, with a needle
and spoon...
etched on the cuticle,
a portrait
of your
skull.

and
you're every
nebulous
moon.
Deborahlee Jan 24
you eat up lines that she dishes
seeing steak on the plate of ****
the wine you shipped top shelf
but her caviar is just counterfeit

she painted pictures she flashed
with you as the star of every bit
whispering tales of the airplane
carrying you for heights two hit

an email and message paper trail
screams out a capitalized tissy fit
as the silk spiderweb knots break
and you sniffing the perfume of it

now people point fingers sharing
every ***** lil detail the ***** spit
sipping foam latte with a cigarette
tossing your reputation into a pit
get a belly full yet?
I don't like spiders and snakes but...
Oil
Seeping up out of the ground,
Into my ***** pipe…
Seeping, seeping, not lost, nor found.
The Earth, as plucked, is ripe.
For oil is my blackness-lust,
And verily; my tune...
For I will rend this world to dust,
To keep my Silver-Spoon.
Rhyme
While your coffee drips
your mind takes a trip stirring
creamy images

                       Kelly McManus
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
silentwoods Aug 2018
Two years into adulting.
It’s possible, who knew?
I look the same as yesterday
But today I’m twenty two!

Dentist trips still freak me out,
Sometimes I burn an egg.
My blanket covers both my feet,
So monsters won’t grab my leg.

I don’t go out on Friday night,
My ankles feel the weather.
And when I help the kids with homework,
We both learn math together.

Sometimes I’ll burst out crying
For no reason at all.
I know the words to one rap song,
And still prefer guys tall.

My puns are all intended,
There is a spoon I hate,
I’ll never mix my whites and brights,
I can’t stay up too late.

My life has been a wild ride
But I’m thankful for each day.
One day I hope to be mature,
One day... but not today.
At last these Plums took the Daughter in Kind
From Lord Raffles' Paradise she adored
A Marriage of Saints she thought to remind
Though behind her Door was Melancholy.
But who a Pony-Child in Fashion's New
Could taste the Recipe she may not like?
Clotted Cream? Or Fish in the River-View
Tore through the Muddy Dress to greet her Delight
This is not the Age, Tories of the West
To switch on Lights dimmed for your Books to read
She is a Sweet-Tooth; Or Filmer at best
Just give her a Spoon; She makes one Great Mead.
She is my Friend. And the Plum's Diver Son
Rewarded a Follow never un-done.
#triciaalexia
THE DISH RAN AWAY WITH THE SPOON

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you
...can’t leave it alone.

The moon is ticking backwards
the clock don’t know why

stars are just tears
that the night has to cry.

The neon dances in the puddles in the streets...
...heartbreak echoes in the empty passing feet.

You think your life’s a musical
but it’s more Film Noir.

You look at a map that says
YOU ARE HERE
but you don’t know where you are.

The sun came in the window -
- your love walked out the door.

I always adored Country & Western
but had never lived it before.

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you...

...leave it alone!
Logan Robertson Nov 2018
What the fork is going on
We argue all knife long
The table settings a froze
What the fork is going on
Can't we at least spoon
A ladle here, a ladle there
What the fork is going on
We argue all knife long

Logan Robertson

11/30/2018
There were many a night it rained and the weather outside was fine.
KiraLili Nov 2016
Folded cocoa cream
Slides from silver spoon to lips
Melts on your warm tongue
Dessert
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."

"Time heals, steals and reveals."

"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."

"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."

"Help when you can, pray when you can't."

"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."

"Honesty is in the alcohol."

"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."

"Sometimes the most valuable company is yourself."

"Instincts over impulse, always."

"The greatest comeback is the one least expected."

"Fear is a light sleeper."

"You can't change the past, but it can change you."

"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."

"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."

"The humble voice resonates the loudest."

"Write your failures in pencil, your triumphs in ink."

"Scars speak every language."

"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."

"Every tear leaves something behind."

"Courage brings you to the fight, wisdom wins it."

"Relationships start and end, but the lucky ones get to begin again."

"The devil doubts. The angel accepts."

"Biggie makes you dance. Tupac makes you think."

"Justice is money green."

"The only thing better than good friends are lifelong ones."

"I'm in a fight with life and I'm losing on points."

"We are remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."

"Every underdog wants to be top cat."

"Love never travels alone."

"Dreams reveal what thoughts conceal."

"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."

"You can't spell tragedy without rage."

"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."

"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."

"The past and future are distant cousins."

"Hope is always listening."

"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."

"Nothing will get you in better shape than a breakup."

"Time is a tattletale."

"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."

"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."

"We are connected by smiles and tears."

"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."

"If infidelity was a crime they would have to build more prisons."

"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."

"The ego is a phony friend."

"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."

"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."

"My train of thought has no conductor."
J Christmas Nov 2012
you wanna be happy dontcha?
Not 'till I reach the state of Anhedonia
never heard a such place.
Well I guess that you've been blessed
Good cheer and health, good taste I guess
Seems Old Man your way's the best
But I wasn't taught the same
and i know you're not to blame
What the hell is it that it makes grown men drool
Well it's not the Bright Side but The Dark Side of The Spoon.
Blissfull Bafoons The Beguiled, miscreant, Fiendish Fools.
Dim Lit hid in Vastness of the last Lunar New Moon
Beg that you see and awaken. You and every one else awaken too.
how good does it feel to fly above ridicule?*
Gimmie some money and ill show you old fool
Deryck Christmas copyright 2012
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