"stiches" poems
miles mean nothing to a heart that is pure
words penned in grace, sent to ether
give heartease to the overstretched
sowing stiches of understanding
in tapestry threadbare
little suns and stars
shining bright in love and hope
from face unseen and adirondack chair
gives strength to one down, from down under
allows grief, the words needed the abilty to care
for these simple gifts, no payment required
from the heart open to care...
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
The trick is that you have to let her know she’s holding the strings
You can’t play hard to get
You have to give your all, leave your wounds open for the salt to be poured in
Cause that’s what it’s all about!
It’s about being defenseless with that one person,
Letting them crawl under your skin
Cause if it’s true, they’ll be the first to pull out the first aid kit
And you may think that letting them hold your strings is a wicked thing
But in the end,
Those strings that they’re holding..
Are the stiches they use to pull you back together
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Be still. The words I thought of when you were ill. I prayed with you every night, then God let me feel your heartbeat. Time was collecting your bloodflow. Heartbeat. Repeat, repeating the pain I felt that day when cousin' came in and said,"God took your mother up today."I was nine years old. You died about two weeks before my birthday. All I got was, packed up cardboard boxes with scotched taped ribbon that glistened in the sun as we made room for it in storage. Stored heartbeats. No one could take your place. The sad thing is I barely remember your face. Chemo. You had to take all those tests, and in the end they still cut off your left breast. Heartbeat. Time finally took your breath. Time ended our time. Why was it that after you died the doctor's found a cure to this genocide? I wish you were still here by my side. I was your baby. I asked the doctor if you were going to live, and all I got was, "maybe." Maybe you might come back someday. You used to appear all the time but then you drifted away. Heartbeat. I saw you laying in red. That red that, filled my eyes with hopelessness. I wished that red were still hanging in your closet in the dry cleaners bag, and the your aroma were in the stiches. After 7 years, I still can't believe you're dead. Even though you're not here, I think about you everydat. I ask a question that every child asks. "Why did God take my mother away?" Heartbeat. Time has finished this poem.
Mar 3, 2010
Mar 3, 2010 at 2:25 PM UTC
She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles
He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment
She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her
He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous
Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up
And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it
They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step
And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible
And now he connects her throat, her ******* and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire
She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body
He sets the little circlets on her fingertips
She stiches his body here and there with steely purple silk
He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth
She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck
He sinks into place the inside of her thighs
So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.
4k
Wilted flower, ageless in
A time of frailty, never wishing
For her glow to fade, but
Every flower wilts over time.
She was weak in sympathy
Seeing everyone though her
Outer shell was, of ill taste,
Souring there eyes.
So those of younger skin she
Spat upon in hated gestures,
Until she could not see beauty,
Only those having what had
Faded upon her over time.
She was a seamstress of cloth,
Fashion was in her eyes, beauty
For beauty now all was bland
As her image tainted, She was
Upon a plan.
She would take beauty from those
Unworthy souls, who abused the
Gift for it should be collected,
Harvested, so began her crime.
The first was a nose, cut off still
Breathing jagged edges ruined.
She slashed upon beauty as stillness
Settled in there eyes. Like a canvass
Now ruined, ugly in her sight,
Discarded in to the river the fishes
Feasting upon her crime.
She harvested, parts each dead
for moments but stillness brought
precision, each flawless gem, with
Precise loops each part fell in to place.
She only needed one more ,the lips
So delicate, so fragile. She carved
So many kisses from the bodies,
But never the correct, impatient
She became, enraged with failures.
Her moments of rage, became news.
"The patch work doll"
"The seamstress of beauty"
She liked this name for beauty
Was a puzzle that she stitched
Together to hide the ugly inside.
Then upon those fated moments,
"Excuse me do you know the"
Her mind forgot to listen, transfixed
Upon those ruby gems, Yes ill
Show you the way.
"Thank you mam"
Ill fated beauty, single breathes to
Take. These where her jewels of
Her crown as each most delicately
Removed, stored so not to break.
The patchwork was finished, **hideous
Monstrosity** of flesh dead, but she
Revelled upon her creation. Missing
The point that she was only faded inside.
She wore this mask, **the seamstress of
Beauty** now wore the blood of others
Upon her face, each was a life taken
For this moment in the mirror, she
Looked upon in happiness, in joy
Of others pain, but the moment faded.
All she saw was others, her beauty hidden
Upon the stiches of others face, she
Couldn't see herself only the faces of
Each life she did take. The lips moved
Spoken words upon this face, you want
This beauty take it cut it with the knife.
She cut upon this mask, deep cuts
Upon her own self, the mask fell
To the floor, spare parts of meat.
She cut around, bleeding down
Kissing the floor as it fell. Till she
Stood there, her skin, meat upon
The floor.
Those final moments the seamstress
Saw she was beautiful, that it was
Underneath that was what she had
Missed, so much beauty spilled for
What, as she ran screaming towards
The window.
Like a mirror shattering shards
Showing her a reflection of the beauty
She had become, she was the seamstress
Of many faces but know only one
Face hits upon the unforgiving ground.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
At high noon
the Witch will be burned at the stake!
we will see heads turn, hips bend, limbs break!
we will watch as the coarse flame is reflected in her eyes!
we will show no mercy as she dances and writhes!
She gets what
she deserves, this evil-doing trickster
even now as her lips boil and her skin begins to blister
she slipped to our children a candied liquid elixir
it made them delirious, it ****** with their minds
now they've formed an army and are coming up from behind
They mean to save her, these once-innocent children
we only had about twenty now they number one million
The fire burns
through her chest, blouse and britches
we even hired the court's jester to keep us all in stiches
Let the fire burn free, give it no restrictions
for today we burn a Witch with the purest of intentions
but what exactly what her crime was
I believe I've failed to mention
She ordered us
to think, for ourselves one and all
and now at death's brink, out to the devil she doth call
She shouts at him with pleasure as her black heart succumbs to flame
He approaches at his leisure, he's no amateur at this game
He gathers her from the post, right before she dies
he tastes the flesh of roast, feasting on his prize
right before he left, he peeled off both her eyelids
and flicked them to the crowd, we devoured them in silence.
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:54 PM UTC
Hey there little puppet girl,
Sowing at your broken heart,
Puppeteer can’t pay his bill,
While you just fall apart,
Hey there little puppet girl,
I bet you where once new,
But now your cloth begins to furl,
And that heart of yours is two,
I see your dusty rags,
And patches of different cloths,
Your mouth it sags,
And you’ve been nibbled by moths,
Hey there little puppet girl,
Puppeteer he neglects you,
Once kept you shiny-now keeps you dull,
Puppeteer he forgets you,
But I see you reaching out,
Begging for his touch,
Mouths sown shut can’t shout,
And only one button eye can watch,
Hey there little puppet girl,
I know that you can’t cry,
But you reek of lost will,
And a need you can’t gratify,
Hey there little puppet girl,
I bet you where once new,
But now your cloth begins to furl,
And that heart of yours is two,
I see you little puppet girl,
Ripping at your stiches,
You’re no longer rational,
Your mind is specious,
Hey there little puppet girl,
Ripped to little pieces,
Puppeteers little pearl,
Your value he decreased it.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
We've been having such a good time out here lately
chasing chasing chasing this summer to the end
of its life,
and it's about time we took half a handful of
something decent to calm our nerves, breathe slow
in and out just like we practiced when
the stars hid their faces and we decided
the nights were getting short and we'd
better hide ours, too.
and I know our brains will always be
a little bit hardwired for self destruction,
but before you go digging around again
in old scraps searching for new ways to place blame, new ways to fit
our shoulders with damage & **** counts,
take this down off the shelf
take a deep breath and hand
me the blueprints.
Sometimes I trip over my tongue when I speak, sometimes I forget and just
mumble instead,
and sometimes I tear out stiches too early
sometimes I don't get what I want and I blame myself
hate myself for thinking that we all have to come to terms with our own
versions of crash-and-burn fairytales,
but isn't that the truth of it all? If this
brutal reality doesn't shake us and stir
the dust from our bones, nothing will;
no morning or afterlife can save us until
we stop sharpening our teeth and put down our steel blades
nothing is made forever, but forever
is made up of a lot of nothings,
the way we stir the *** on our bad (or good) days is only one of them;
the way we tell ourselves we aren't important is a lie
don't whisper this into my ears at dusk,
scream it into the sky
scream it into the palms of your hands until you can't breathe anymore,
it has never been better, it has never been worse
work your desires into your
DNA coding
detonate what's left in your system
(start over again)
I'm finding new ways to stand still on this high balancing beam
new rituals and new ways to throw my hat off to you,
give credit where credit is due
I only hope that when it's said and done
and I'm on my way out
I'll know half of what I do right now,
feel it surging in my headrush & in the burn
of my fingers
I hope I'll know on my way out the door:
Nothing has ever been better and nothing has ever been worse.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
finite rapture
well defined. organized
organelles squirming. spurning
unnecessary imposition. repitition
severing me further.
it's still a bright fixture on the horizon
viewed at the far end of winding tunnel of mirrors.
captured in a jar. admired ideas
appreciated from afar.
trembling extended hand retracted.
strong stiches binding. scabs still crusty.
musty attics, shuffling feet.
melting.
swelltering in the possibility
of a potential interpreted properly.
I work better as an idea
than a human.
compose the tune and I'll be the words.
transpose your soul, I'll be the vibrations.
speak between the lines. I will be blinded.
Beyond thought.
we are aware that we're unaware.
Crystalize. Mezmerize.
It could be so simple.
To notice the cheeks, but not the dimples.
Four perfect points of light linger in the shadows
two by two
Ideals. a concrete truth.
Glaciers slowly crack foundations.
Pounding. Pouding.
Resounding. Cannot be ignored
before I am the boomerang
that cracks you on the head.
Blood pooling at the base of my skull
control watered down.
Concrete giving into stress
and a flower has room to bloom/
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
A mother who listens to soft classical Mozart
Reclined against the soft, worn pillow from ages
slender fingers easily flicking through a catalog,
while a father is hunched over
in the cold den, racked with coughs and pains, trembling fingers trying to hold on to the metallic foil of medicine.
And a child, barely 4
playing with stuffed animals on the couch
a victim of Tay Sach
A car, and a windowpane, that have both seen too much,
ragged advertisements fluttering in the wind,
advertising a movie coming out yesterday,
A burger shop ad that had already long closed,
and deals long gone.
The downtown urban forest, turned into a junkyard
full of scraps of rusted silver and infected bronze.
A bystander who can do nothing but laugh
as a boy's nose gets crushed in,
a ****** lip,
A swollen, purple eye
A boy of 18
who is still waiting for her somewhere
to see her colored smile
and eyes of glass
bitter and emotionless, glazed over with sterling silver,
who has a family, siblings,
who is now turned into nothing but a ragged playtoy for the sick, sick entertainment of others
A broken air conditioner that can do nothing but clack clack clack over and over again, metal blades spinning vainly for nothing,
while a broken family is screaming in the other room,
and a child is crying, hands to his face, covering his eyes
as a father hits his wife, knocks her against the sharp, tiled kitchen counter,
and the screaming intensifies, accompied by the hurtful insults that are thrown at each other-by the father and the teen.
and still the air conditioner goes on and on
oblivious to nothing.
A world that is so breathtaking and cruel at the same time
where little, insignificant families are torn apart without a second thought,
where the 'strong' prey on the 'weak'
Where the most beautiful sprawling cities turn into rejected second handers just because of a rumor
And,
A mother who listens to soft classical Mozart
Reclined against the soft, worn pillow from ages, ages ago
full of tears and stiches
slender fingers easily flicking through a catalog, searching for the most effective medicine, eyes flickering in worry
while a father is hunched over
in the cold den because
he doesn't want to risk spreading his sickness to anyone else
racked with coughs and pains, trembling fingers trying to hold on to the metallic foil of medicine.
Working hard to support his family because the economy is going down again
And a child, barely 4
playing with stuffed animals on the couch
a victim of Tay Sach,
dead at 6.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
Malleable emotions born to a broken hearted teddy bear
Teddy's stitches stretch with age
The clock on the wall becomes his countdown
As time moves forward, Teddy is forced to watch children's attentions pull back
The rocking horse asked Teddy what he thought about the children rudely leaving them to gather dust
Teddy just smiled
His beaded eyes glimmering through the windows sunset, a few stickers to block the rays
Teddy knew the children were moving on to better things
Because if the world shoved them down
Teddy would be there to soften the blow
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC
sew
sewn
sewing
stiches
stitched
to my sleeves
tears soaking
simplicity
magnify
times
me
in
i
find myself
me'ing me
perfectly
time hurdles another fence
passport in hand bus stop timed
frequently flown boot soles
composite toed mistletoe
kiss me rosey cheeks
love me dearly
love me
most
love
me
ghosts
learning to sew
?
...
..
.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Chorus Blame game Blame game. Choose a number 1 to 10. And when the day you pick my name. I will silently close the front gate. Screaming behind cause I'm leaving. In shock you'll reply it's all your fault. No suprise. She plays that old chord again. Cup over my ears using it to shut her up.And block the noise the coming from her voice. And of all just what I planned before. I have sworn. Chorus I'll take all our pictures. And tear them to pieces. Skipping your rememberance.That are running, from the closet on my bed streaming through in my head. This is me. Just trying to complete. This mess you've made. Just trying to ignore complaints. Your best deeds Come with the worst intentions. I had descretion when you sent home that package. With that same old gossipping. About Blame, same game. Here we are to play your cards. When my turn comes I'll be out the door. Then with my friends you've left your mark. I haste the day it's your turn. Then you'll learn not to start this blame game. Come again count it out one to to ten. I'd say your a 13 cause you bring bad luck to parties. Don't pardon my exit.If your waiting for a return. When you mess with my head.nough with this gossipping I'll scream somebody stop this women. From playing Blame game Blame game. Everyone knows your the guiltyest. Every time I burned our bridges. You cane back to seal them up. Everynught before I woke I had to pull out the stiches. That you gave to my emotions. What's to gain from what i'm sayin Acting like you got me tied around your finger. I'm your little puppet on a string. But no way will I let you play that game. To the next guy that comes knocking. I'll tell him Chorus To take all the pictures of the walls. And tear them to pieces. Skipping your memories before the come. On him like a haunting That are running, from the closet on my bed streaming through in my head. This is me. Just trying to complete. This mess you've made. Just trying to ignore your complaints. When you lay down the pain. Acting like you got me tied around your finger. I'm your little puppet on a string. But no way will I let you play that game. To the next guy that comes knocking. I'll tell him Chorus To take all the pictures of the walls. And tear them to pieces. Skipping your memories before they come. On him like a haunting . I know he'll experience the same thing I did. Playing Chorus Blame game, Blame game. Choose a number 1 to 10. And when the day you pick my name. I will silently close the front gate. Screaming behind cause I'm leaving. In shock you'll reply it's all my fault. But I know it's not. Cause the problem is you.
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 9:44 AM UTC
Should there ever be a backward twirling of the clock gears, a paisley maze of metal and magic to occur,
every tear will trace back to its watery scars.
Even the ropes shackling hearts will fray,
shackles broken.
Bits and crumbs of dim memories become whole again.
Just as sweet.
And perhaps, the bad will seep back in.
The dead will open their eyes again.
Roughly stiched in wounds so long ago, where even the owner has forgotten to hem back up the stiches to the surface.
The white cotton thread would have never met the needle's eye.
A baby's nursery room may gather more dust than expected.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
***I can't beleive how badly I am hurt
I cant belive how sore my wonds are.
Why did you have to stab me so deep?
I need someone to heal these cuts.
I'm going under the water
but I know that I can swim my way
out of the water.
Your not my lover any more if
your killing me.
You watched me bleed until I passed out,
you put me on my knees
when I was passed out
you left me all alone so I will be
needing stiches cause i wont be able to get
any of your kisses.
You tripped over me as you walked away so now I
will be needing stiches
I was the moth that was drawn to your flame
You brought me in and I couldnt feel any pain,
your heart is to cold to love.
I am left seeing my blood on my own.
I'm going under the water
but I know that I can swim my way
out of the water.
Your not my lover any more if
your killing me.
You watched me bleed until I passed out,
you put me on my knees
when I was passed out
you left me all alone so I will be
needing stiches cause i wont be able to get
any of your kisses.
You tripped over me as you walked away so now I
will be needing stiches
Needle and the thread
Gotta get you out of my head
Needle and the thread
Gonna wind up dead
Needle and the thread
Gotta get you out of my head
Needle and the thread
Gonna wind up dead
Needle and the thread
Gotta get you out of my head
Needle and the thread
Gonna wind up dead
Needle and the thread
Gotta get you out of my head get you out of my head
You watched me bleed until I passed out,
you put me on my knees
when I was passed out
you left me all alone so I will be
needing stiches cause i wont be able to get
any of your kisses.
You tripped over me as you walked away so now I
will be needing stiches***
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
We are human
Walking traumas
Left untreated
Open wounds
Being leeched
To treat
The wrong fever
It is incongruous
Being inoculated
Against the wrong disease
Vaccinated with apathy
So we don’t feel
The sores that bleed
But you have to laugh
We are mortal
Not merely men
Nor women
More like
All the things
Around and in-between
Searching
Sub-consciously
For peace
Trying to sustain ourselves
While losing
Everyone else
Crying
But you have to laugh
We are little boxes of flesh
Lego people made to fit together
Chipped
Scratched
Lost and found
Each stress tearing at our flesh
Rending our skin
Like a thresher
Building internal and external pressure
Till we need release
****** and or emotional
But you have to laugh
Ready to cry
Sometimes
We are ready to die
Till the brain twitches
Till the broken switches
Leave you in stiches
And you see something strange
Irony or absurdity
Life twisted in its purity
On the verge of exploding
Not really knowing
But something hits
Something fits
Presses the right button
Slapstick
Stupidity
Intellectual curiosity
Sanity flipped on its heels
But you have to laugh
A chortle a choking gasp
The tension breaks
The air whooshes past
You have no control
You have to laugh
The world doesn’t change
Much
The feelings are still there
But with each laugh
It gets easier to bare
It’s a chemical reaction
With endorphins and stuff
But I don’t think you care
It’s just what you needed
To fight off the despair
So I say it again you have to laugh
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
I'm the shadow
Casted by the sun,
Feeling small
As the day's begun.
I watch people
With nameless faces
Go places
With no destination,
No purpose.
I watch them with
Bruised ribcages
And flowers blooming from their arms,
Pretending to be a part
Of the crowd,
Pretending to fit in.
Their hearts are shattered to dust,
But they fix it
With stiches and staples that turned to rust,
Pretending all the pieces fit
Their shirts are filled
With pins and needles,
that poke their skin
Pretending not to notice
The emptiness filling in.
But I stay put.
My shadow is too small to notice,
Too scared to move.
My mind is almost as broken as theirs,
But my door is fully open,
Not pretending.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC
We are a wall of lost children.
Tiny fingers fixing
the broken pieces
Of humanities innocence
mending her compassion,
sewing the stiches of
goodwill back into
her being.
Until goodness can be seen.
Till the stars look down
flaring with pride
to see our brighter side.
Children of the cosmos
fulfilling our purpose.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
Unraveling the threads
Of my tangled, sticky lies,
Tearing the delicate cloth
Of my fragile, broken life.
One by one,
The stiches pop out
Exposing the wounds
That they know nothing about.
A single salty tear
Trickles down my face
As a single crimson drop of blood
Is dripping from my wrist.
This cruel and viscious cyle
Will never have and end
As my sanity unravels,
Alone and with out friends.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
I have known pain
In every form
All too well
My box of memories is filled to the rim with moments so vivid
That if I close my eyes
I can almost taste the blood between my teeth
Pain has been
Someone I have turned to
When emotion has defeated feeling
Sometimes just a pinch of the skin
To remind myself
That I am real
That this
Is real
Pain is an alarm clock ringing
Begging us to wake up
In a world full of dreamers
Who just cant seem to face reality
Without pain
Without the sandpaper glued to our palms
Life would slip right through our fingers
Pain is attached to every year of my life
Marking the moments that mattered most
From ages where seconds of happiness seem blurred
And mostly pain is remembered
Age 4
Chin shattering against the kitchen floor
Skin and bone to hardwood
When a game of horsey with my older brother
Goes too far
Stiches sewing me back into place
I can still taste the melted twix bar that I was given
For being such a good patient
Age 7
Scrapes from falling off the bicycle
Were enough to get me to stop trying
Needless to say
I never learned how
Age 12
Words thrown at me like razor blades in the school cafeteria
Hurt enough for me
To use them against myself
In fits of aching rage
My body refuses to let me forget
Age 15
Watching my father
Sick from chemotherapy
Hunched over in agony
Hair falling to the ground like the ashes of cancer victims
Watching him suffer
Hurt more than any broken bone
Than
Any paper cut
Scratch to the surface
The worst kind of pain I've learned
Is the kind that can not be erased from memory
With a rub to the eyes
Is the kind where
You are forced to watch
Loved ones
Experience it
Without being able to help
Or do anything to ease their discomfort
The worst kind of pain
Is being witness
Is being bystander
Pain is more than a bully
Pain is a backstabbing neighbor
Who pulls a gun to your head just when you think you've got it right
Is a ghost
A physical form that fades
But remains forever alive in memory
In the faces of people you've hurt
In the scars of skin that forces you to remember what happened
What happened
Does not define you
But the thing about pain
Is that whether or not you want it to
It shapes you.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
Word evaporation
Like radiation
chemotherapy
Dare me to make something intricate
Triple threat thread
three stiches
On the mend
On the bend
Of your hip to your waist
What do they say about haste?
What do they say about paste?
If only I could remember
If only we had skipped December.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
As they all sat around the camp fire reading to
each other poetic rhyme, there were many who
would not last the night at camp forward what
or who would meet there demise?
Sue was writing ***** things you could see it
in her eyes. The others around the camp fire
was Brother Newton, Orchidee, & Karen, they
were talking philosophy… Bri mar & Grandma
were talking rather intensely about meanings
of life & religion agreeing to disagree.
Lolly was laughing with Ant, Poetic T &
Tadpole about his latest creation in stiches for
all to see. Jambo didn’t laugh he just quite
abruptly disagreed.
It was late, the fire once fierce now red embers
could all only see. Good night Sue said it’s
getting late for me, she needed the toilet but
full were all three so in to the woods she was
shown a good spot to ***
As she squatted a bear trap went off cutting
Sue in to three. Her scream unheard as only
things that go bump in the night could be
heard aloud in the trees.
Brother Newton went off to sleep only to be
awoken as someone carried him off trapped
in his sleeping bag was he, In the background
Alice cooper could be heard, the man behind the
mask as he was violently smashed against the tree.
Brother Newton now left as all that could be seen
was a red soaked sleeping bag sinking in to the
lake near camp never again to be seen.
Grandma went off with Orchidee to pray, but
as they approached the alter tubular bells could
be heard as the cross fell or was it pushed?
And nailed under the cross were both. We forgive
they both said as there life left for another less
blood soaked place..
To Be Continued
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
Dancing around these minor obstacles with words
That sooths the soul like a body preserved
These are my words its just poetry in the making
Combinations of words, ingredients for the shaking
Passion and desire spirals you to domestic
Growth & love w/ understanding goes viral from a prospective
Hello Poetry take where nobodies ever been*
Inside the mind of the confined translated through my pen
Using my paper as the canvas creating a work of art
Turned my world upside down playing the ace of hearts
Always show that spark, Poetry it's been known to bark
That's what it's made for, but also mending hearts
Sewing up the pain until the stiches part
Both sides falling for love from the cupid arch
Sweet melodies flowing from the cupid harp
Hello poetry and its on the mark
*Together as one before the wish bone ******
Upon breaking I wished about us
Hello Poetry forever will you flow with me*
Relationship is mutual united and its knowingly
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Smiles
And kisses
For stiches
Sunshine,
You make my heart
Beat
If ever I were
To wish again
I would wish only for the same.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:59 AM UTC