"stickies" poems
11:18 P.M.
Want to sleep, don't want to.
Waiting for something.
An idea, an event.
Something to do.
Write on the walls.
Or the mirror or a shirt.
Draw something,
write something.
Go for a walk.
Sing a song.
Whole house is asleep.
Write a song,
don't have a piano.
And the whole house is asleep.
Clean my room?
That can wait.
Read something?
11:31 P.M.
Mom, you gave me this flip calendar
with mother/daughter quotes
for each day.
Those words you said to me,
"Mom and daughter are not
to be friends," Mom
that hurts.
So I imagine you made
a 11:35 P.M. those
sticky notes over there
catch my eye.
What should I do with these?
I'll test one, see if they'll
stick.
I have many hideous scarves.
What is to be done with those
shoe boxes?
WHY didn't I start looking for
a job EARLIER???
12:04 A.M.
The stickies just fell and
made me jump.
I'll tape paper to the wall
instead.
12:13 A.M.
Maybe I won't sleep tonight.
I'll do my summer reading
like it's day, until I drop.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 4:04 PM UTC
splayed limbs and warm sun and sneakers laid to the side and sun on my body and the sound of the water more than anything else
A midday shower to get the stickies off, maybe its all worth it
If I get to spend even a second in the wind, drinking in its cool caress, how could I remember to yearn for the warm sticky touch of another?
If I get to hear the rushing of the water so close to my ears, what phantom chatter of ghosts could permeate?
If I get to feel the sun kiss my skin the way it does, what significance could the absence of you hold?
When I have so much, how could my heart remember to need you?
When I have so much, how could my heart not want to share it with you?
You who I know would love it. You who I wish loved me half as much.
When I have so much, why does missing you take up any room for gratitude in this cluttered mind? I started off alright this time.
This is not a rhyming poem.
****** poetry, maybe 5 is my lucky number. But 5 is a lie I tell to and for myself. I seem to have been briefer to you than that.
The difference is that I say 5, and you do not say.
May 22, 2023
May 22, 2023 at 2:09 AM UTC
Being back home, in my childhood room is like climbing into a time capsule. I left for college quickly, back in ‘21 and I’ve only been back here once, briefly.
My closets are still full of my old high school clothes and there are shelves that line the upper walls of my room with maybe a hundred “Disney Princess” collectable statues (my favorite is Ariel).
I have one wall space behind my bathroom door that has a hundred yellow stickies on it - reminders of old assignments and quotes like, “Do you hate drama or create drama?” and “Imagine your future.”
Everything seems carbon dated. It gives me an impeccable, knife-like sense of ennui. I want to cherish it all or burn it all, depending on the time of day. I went to take down my old Humphry Bogart and Billie Eilish posters yesterday and Kim said “Noo,” in such a sad way that I stopped.
Hold on, let’s overthink this.
I had a hard conversation today. I broke the news to my cats (Belichick and Tom Brady) that school starts at the end of the month, and I have to go back.
They took it well, I think. You know how cats are. I’ll know in a day or two, if their good will has turned to sour offense - they'll claw something up.
Belichick seems to be watching me extra closely though.
.
.
Songs for this:
Lava by Still Woozy
Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements
.
08.01.3PM
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 3:46 PM UTC
I lost my thought somewhere,
Over there,
Behind my leftover thinkings on time.
To the right of whenever,
I last forgot to remember,
What is was with I wanted to rhyme.
I try to remind myself,
Quite often,
To post stickies to help me recall.
But then the thought to look,
Gets lost in some nook,
And, the whole deal slows down to a crawl.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 1:09 AM UTC