"totes" poems
Sorting boxes, packing clothes
Assaulted by the past
When you stood and said forever
You both thought it would last
A jewellery box, a trinket here
A gift they never used
A present from five years ago
You smile, a bit bemused
The boxes fill, the tears arrive
You know it must be done
It's the one part of a person's life
That surely isn't fun
Textures and scents surround you
They take you back in time
To a place before computers
When a phone call cost a dime
You fill one box, put it aside
"Donations" on the side
You can picture every item
That you piled up inside
You put them in there lovingly
You didn't want to let them go
By releasing them into the box
It forced you to....you know
Accept that you're alone now
That your partner is not here
That the life you built together
Is now remembered by a tear
You gave things out to family
Though you do not know just why
They will stick them in a drop box
And that just makes you cry
You picture them inside the clothes
And you hear their laugh as you
Put magazines and tolietries
Inside Box number two
You put aside some things you like
To remember better days
Though you know that in the future
You'll remember through a haze
Time will mar your memories
Keep the good times, wipe the bad
You'll forget about the smile
And this really is quite sad
It takes days to sort the boxes
Fill the others, pack them all
By the time that you are finished
They will almost fill the hall
When complete you think on
What is in the totes
There's clothing, jewellery, memories
And magazines and notes
You don't know where to take them
You balance on a knife
The question here before you
How do you give away a life?
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 6:10 PM UTC
i am grateful for the short time i had with you
and the way i was loved so incredibly
i lived for the little infinities we created
on the back roads and in your bedroom
where time mysteriously disappeared
and all we had was the way our hearts synchronized
i am grateful for the hours we spent
discovering who we were as one
instead of two troubled individuals who spent
too much time divulging in their own dusty skeletons they keep in totes underneath the bed
finding each other in the small corners of the world
like on top of a bluff
or in the middle of a river
where the only thing that mattered
was the way lips warm and the way bodies melt together
i am grateful for the heartbreak
for the tears that have been shed for you
because without you i would have never known
what it feels like to be broken by someone
who i love unconditionally
and what it feels like to live without the other half of me
somehow
between the sadness and the hopelessness i felt within me
i learned how to sew my body together
to make a whole being once again
even though the scars and the holes still remain
i'm someone again
i hope you are as well
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
Pacing the floor in the middle of this
watching the kettle 'til steam starts to hiss
A strange fascination we have with the bliss
with nothing behind us but one heated kiss.
Underneath an umbrella I stand in the rain
and wait on the platform for the six o'clock train
well you never quite hold me and I rarely complain
and soaked with frustration I walk home again.
We bid for each other in some Chinese auction
and you got the ***** one mixed up concoction
we checked out our prizes at a much closer range
What were we thinking and can we exchange?
And without any memories to dry up the tears
we long for the fire and the comfort of years
but it's just one more lesson, a good one we learned.
the slow-cooker is better and we're less often burned.
And then as I ponder you come in the door
I smile at your tired eyes and looking for more
I stir up the *** as you take off your Totes
and you ask me to make you some Five-Minute Oats.
"I made 'em already to warm up your cockles
the seat of your heart and without the debacles
I sensed that the cold rain would stir the desire
so I whipped up a batch and rekindled the fire".
And inspite of my rambling it seems rather clear
that Five-Minute Oats can mean something more dear
it's that person who waits in your kitchen above
stirring Five Minute oats into passionate love.
-Gina Morrone
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
Pacing the floor in the middle of this
watching the kettle 'til steam starts to hiss
A strange fascination we have with the bliss
with nothing behind us but one heated kiss.
Underneath an umbrella I stand in the rain
and wait on the platform for the six o'clock train
well you never quite hold me and I rarely complain
and soaked with frustration I walk home again.
We bid for each other in some Chinese auction
and you got the ***** one mixed up concoction
we checked out our prizes at a much closer range
What were we thinking and can we exchange?
And without any memories to dry up the tears
we long for the fire and the comfort of years
but it's just one more lesson, a good one we learned.
the slow-cooker is better and we're less often burned.
And then as I ponder you come in the door
I smile at your tired eyes and looking for more
I stir up the *** as you take off your Totes
and you ask me to make you some Five-Minute Oats.
"I made 'em already to warm up your cockles
the seat of your heart and without the debacles
I sensed that the cold rain would stir the desire
so I whipped up a batch and rekindled the fire".
And inspite of my rambling it seems rather clear
that Five-Minute Oats can mean something more dear
it's that person who waits in your kitchen above
stirring Five Minute oats into passionate love.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
Look onward out towards the crashing waves of the sea.
It's there I dare to compare the rock holding form upon the crystal reef.
Compare to whom for there is no capable being upon this Earth holds claim to equal such
I know only one strong enough to withstand those violently crashing waves , my hero , my daddy, his back totes the weight of the world every day , this rock standing firm in the heart of the crystal reef, holds little force to compare
Journey with me for your eyes won't believe
Young but recalling the blizzard one winter my hero, my daddy that returned from the mountain
Eyes of sky blue shining through crystals of icicle hanging from his lashes, his face purple from the wicked freeze of sleet.
I peered with pain while my mother laid warmth over my hero's frozen face, it was the rock in the reef that cold winter's day far across the fierce mountain snow he tracked to provide a meal a for his family
A wife and four girls , a back that had been broken not one but three times , I couldn't hold the tears in my eyes as my bus passed him walking as it drove me to school there was no money for a vehicle, my hero, my daddy, five miles to and five miles home, every single day for over six months and never missed a day , walked with his ******* back to provide for us
His hands were covered with hard labor of his life as the mines collapsed sparing his life as it ripped his finger away
His job led him underground just miles from hell for to long
Turning his lungs to it's likeness of the coal
Three days went by what seemed forever as the rubble they lifted from that mine was like holding a gun to the head of the men trapped in below
For the chance of that bullet one wrong move would send the mine and it's beings far beneath the earth to never be found.
We glared at the pile of rubble they said time was running out
Wait what does that mean as the families begin to weep
When all of the sudden the minor let out the words that sounded angelic to my ears, Men I see a light shining in the hole and it's coming towards me.
I could see as what looked in the form of a man but was covered with black from the coal the light from his hard hat turning side and up and down as he had one man on his shoulder he lifted him out and disappeared to retrieve the other men still down in that deep dark hole. One by one my hero my daddy brought them to their safety , this my friend is the rock from the reef that can withstand the crashing waves, the man that tracked through a freezing blizzard to make sure his family ate, and the man that returned the husband's home safe to their family's from the depths of hell that day Always and forever this man will be , My Hero , My Daddy!
©kimmied1105
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
I am so sick of being that girl
The one who sits awkwardly
Tries not to show too much on my face
But here I am
I watch all around as people
Stare
Judge each other
And it isn’t even me that I am tearing the roots out of my faith in humanity over
I watch
And I listen
And all I perceive is laughter
“Oh my gosh that was totes hilarious”
No.
It wasn’t.
Those people you laugh at…
People of Wal-Mart
That crazy chick
The person at the end of all of your jokes
Harmless as they seem
Those people are people too
They have people who love them
Loved ones losing them to the horrors of the person that you force them to see in the mirror each day
Each breath
Rigid and Choked
Trying to be the person on the inside
“Only inner beauty matters…”
Then why won’t you let them be more than
The punch line.
I know
It’s harmless
Everyone laughs
It’s funny
And everybody laughing
And joking
And smiling
As they look past your soul
Just searching for a witty response
Instead of a human being
It isn’t harmless.
If I fall
And I can’t even breathe
I can’t even tell who I am
And no one is around to hear my cries for help
No one hears…
Do I still exist?
People stop wanting to exist when they feel like their life doesn’t exist.
I’ve been there before
So
Just stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Just stop.
Think for a second.
What if that was you?
What if it was your best friend?
Your everything?
And their existence is laughed off.
Until it shrivels and dies.
No more growth.
Not ever.
We are walking uphill through a snowstorm of meaningless arrows
Poison soaking the tips
And I can’t fight them forever.
So please.
Somebody help.
And even though you may finally hear my cries
And cry with me
You keep on shooting
Not even thinking
Because it is only natural now.
Please.
Think.
Stop.
Think.
Let me go.
Let everyone try to figure out who they are
What they want to be
Without pushing waves of stereotypes
And laughing at their dreams
Scoffing their entire existence away
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT
I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed
Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)
Lights, camera, action! You're on!
"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings
"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats
(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) ****
Right, try again...
"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"
And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught
"I FUCKIN' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"
Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"
I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!
I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"
"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"
On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...
I think in my head for a bit, then I say...
"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin 'fucking' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!
A couple of them titter
And the rest go silent...
And I think I've won!
'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"
"And you're gay"
"And you're a **** teacher"
The end
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
Mirthful sunlit chimes spoke of fondness
Ever they'd enmesh in love's binding tress
Streams of joy did gurgle with much delight
Their hearts according in rapture's notes
Bright news resounded through these totes
They'd professed to each other love's tie
Twas a pairing which would ne'er fade or die
Heavens arrayed in spangling starlight
The twosome combined so divinely
A sweet syrup bliss ringing sublimely
Love's declaration pleasantly pealing
Throughout the continents both near and wide
The turtle doves love ever to reside
These gladdest tidings truly appealing
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
Yes, I am totes going to turn this assignment in when it's do you think you could give me just like three more days?
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 6:58 PM UTC
Want to get a mortgage?
A loan to buy a car?
Tickets to a Aruba?
You need not go too far
You want to take a photo?
Check to see if it will snow?
Do a search and you will find
All you need to know
Oh...buddy, there's an app out there
For all you want to do
Even things you do not like
There's apps for those things too
You're in to online gaming?
You need groceries, maybe beer?
Don't worry, bud, it's out there
Thousands more show up each year
Lyrics for a song you like
You can find them in three notes
You want to lay a bet in Vegas
You need to buy some extra totes
Oh...buddy, there's an app out there
For all you want to do
Even things you do not like
There's apps for those things too
You want to find a certain app
There's an app that does that too
There's an app that knows just what you want
Before you know you do
If you want to write a novel
Who cares that you can't spell?
I'm sure that you have figured
There's an app for that as well
Oh...buddy, there's an app out there
For all you want to do
Even things you do not like
There's apps for those things too
So, now, in summation
Listen close to me
There's an app out in the ether
You can download it for free
If you want to buy your groceries
Get a girlfriend, buy a cat
You can always know that somewhere
That there's an app for that.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 8:31 PM UTC
Hey there girlfriend,
I love those big brown eyes.
Not much like mine, big and blue.
You have the hair to match, brown and long,
While mine is long and blonde.
You are totes gonna blow those girls of the board today.
Just don't think to much about Elliot and you'll be fine.
If you're mother of the team,
Then I'd be your baby freshman.
If you looked in the stands,
Popstar is directly to my left.
I hope you like big butts and you cannot lie,
Cause I have a big **** when I fly.
Love,
Your secret swimmer.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Fanwisdom gedachting a hearth-billow in my Herz
Ich hab' gedacht it fairer still to know
Than amongst dein Welt it predisposes is perplexed aloof
Extraños kann nicht go where I must go
And von und an die spinniest of Hund
In peril and with Angsty tougher Hands
Will not crepuscular desecration sofort ensue
Für nichts ist wichtiger nur ein Liebling mood
Versucht wir probs and totes adorbs
But still zu schieße tired and hasst to sein
Während wir sollen in the proper sense
Man oh yeah das Man sagt en vino absorb'd
Was wicked waste and After it schmeckt schleck
Über ist nicht was es ich verpassen now
Most mehr mit Menchen kommt wieso I ask?
Wenn wo I know it is so very untoward to cow
Kuh oder a coo cannot redeem from drain
Zeit and Mal scent rempeln us all or push
Klar we cannot stop the starkest Zug
Nor yodel holler up the lane for ****
And just wenn denkst du, dass eyes is mad
Know that for Worten the harshest Lebens macht
To get you just to see and versehe sum
Unwertens none of us will ever be ich gedacht
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
1- Totes inaprope dope smoker swisher toker blunt wrap roper you be like my ole aunt groper
2- She be grabbin ***** on all ya’ll in the Fall by the ball court short shorts and written reports
3- ******* dorks and eatin pork like nanu nanu Mork with a stork baby drop on the porch
4- Carry the torch to the couch jump up ta bounce see a fool to trounce and slap in the head
5- Make him brain dead said I see red in bedrooms full a ***** mothers slack jaw brothers
6- Druther act like one another than smother muthafuckers with rubber maid garbage cans
7- Hand feeding planned partenthood in the hood acting no good wit mad wood ya shoulda
8- Put those down came round and found a pound for slingin, bringing back the Ringling elephants
9- And cellophane wrapper sandwiches ******* snitching on rich kids for gambling small wagers
10- Drunken rage-ers deranged rangers feeding bears strangers and rearranging body parts
11- Carded farters impart special gasses on mass media fascists allowing brash
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
THAT FIRST WARM DAY...
I remember when I was in grade school
Which is now called middle school
That first warm day
I would rush home from school
Run upstairs and dig out my shorts
From the cedar chest
Where mom store our summer clothes.
They always smelled like cedar,
But it didn't matter
It was spring and warm outside.
And I was determined to wear shorts.
But mom was cautious
It's too early she would say...
Your going to get sick
That is what they thought back then
There was nothing better then
Slipping on your shorts
on the first warm day of Spring
running down to a friends
And calling their name
Can you come out to play
There was nothing like the smell
And the warmth of
THAT FIRST WARM DAY....
by Judy
I still get that feeling on the first warm day, but no cedar chest, just totes, and no more shorts, but I will dig out a few capris...and I want to plant flowers...
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 3:52 PM UTC
While working my routine at Amazon
picking the same items I always have before
I was trans shipped to trans ship
filling me with anxiety
understanding unfamiliarity
nerve racked novice
sweat trickles down my face
soaking into my PPE.
Two man crew I'm meant to join
black guys wearing reflective vests
"I'm here to help, can you help me?"
blank stare foreground
empty workload background
perplexed aesthetic
French accented walls muffle communication
I form a reluctant alliance with repetition
yet my counterpart understands everything I say.
Their patience eases my troubled mind
when my capability falls short of my enthusiasm
hand gestures guide me free of frustration
I stay silent, only saying
"I'd talk more but I figure it'd be a hassle"
my learning ambassador understands
but his extra steps start a conversation
creating comforting small-talk acclimating aliens.
Sydna and Josue from Ivory Coast and Congo respectively
and respectful was all I wanted to be
yet I got the impression Josue was uncomfortable
after I had brought up gold, diamonds, and oil
but Sydna had taken control of the conversation
telling me all about the lottery he won to be here
I wondered what lottery's prize was living in Cincinnati
to work a factory job in Hebron.
We work bundling totes together
printing confusing and mysterious tags
reading ACY, CMH, SDF, JFK, or CSG
these bundles will be leaving CVG eventually
carried away on skids
to their indifferent destination
of the same capitalist company
just at another fulfillment center.
I guess I should be more grateful
to be in the poor nation of transportation
but I'm not—I'd rather be picking
where I can communicate with compatriots freely
but I'm far away from the south mod now
near the north side red tag area talking to strangers
it's just a shame
because there's plenty of material where I came from
but transitory shipment is where the work is.
Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 10:59 PM UTC
every waking thought
fueled by
juicy strawberries
not from distant lands
stalked by native asparagus
signs on empty spots
indicate to our dismay
the farmer’s market
Gone away
for this week
dejected we head home
desires unmet
with crumpled canvas totes
in unhappy hands.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
TO DO LIST:
-Paint nails black and silver
-Finish reading that novel I started
-Finish writing that novel I started
-Offer my bus seat to an elderly lady… unless I’m driving the bus.
-Make tea
-Practice piano
-Clean out closet
TO ****** LIST:
-People who have hurt those I love
-Depression
-Suicide
-Unrequited love
-Rejection
-Inadequacy
-ppl who lyk legit totes talk lyk this lol as if they are lyk, texting or whatevz cuz they think its lyk totes adorbz and stuff *** lyk ***** rofl
-People who respond to my paragraph text with: K. or Lol.
-Slow walkers in front of me
-people who sing Xmas carols in June.
TO DATE LIST:
-That guy I’ve liked since the first day I saw him
-Chocolate
-Chocolate’s cousin: Caramel
-Tea
-CHOCOLATE BROWNIES
-Every fictional character I am in love with... there's alot
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
uh im rude like awakening
knock those out who fakin' flakin'
like they frosted i leave ya exhausted
hard to see me when them black ants
crawlin' over eye visions cuz my visions
dehydrate your precisions
stingin' ya harder the bees like wind to breeze
ya cant slow me yall haters below me
bring force like kinobi just show me
yo head so i can fill it with led down goes yo bread
tears in the hearts of families fatalities bring joy to me
emcees beware ya in for a scare no truth or dare
pause ya like ya in a stare
first glare ya see im in ya shadows
check my plateau ruthless as Don Vito evils we see no
remorse for those who try to show
**out they *** we never chased the cash**
we burned out like brass true with me class
yall dont want no clash
dancin' with the titan fast as lightening
strike so compellin' enticin' frightening
no late night news can fused or abuse
our images we mass murderers lowerin' percentages
of those in advantage we bringin' mo' carnage
than the average savage live in havoc
dont thread the best unless ya wanna die like the rest
ease my stress with totes of canibus while yall diss
im chillin' like maximus
full potential we never been bought out chips just sought out
takin' over islands reestablish demands with illegal contrabands
one man stand
dont need no fan feel me i be the straight loco true colo
*** hole by nature too a few bites from forbidden manzana**
makin' miracles like ana
from lyrical content bites critics like piranhas sound the black madonna whos gonna?
**stop me once i began the tears so ***** *** commentators beware**
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
Packed up boxes
A couple totes
Leather books
Mostly clothes
Angry memories
Tears and woes
Broken hearts
Broken homes
Leave the ring
Take a shot
Sobs of anguish
Left to rot
I ****** up
And all for naught
She packed and left
I'm all I've got
I can't keep going after this.
Sorry guys.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
It’s a little complicated - what isn’t? But my plans have changed (again).
Under some pressure - but not really - I was able to switch schools.
From Johns Hopkins university to the Université Paris Cité.
No doubt, the Hopkins acceptance helped.
It’s like when you have a boyfriend - how the other boys suddenly find you more attractive?
There was a comment someone made here, SbySW, I think - he said,
“No more early jogs in Baltimore,” (as in danger-city) and that was a tumbler for me - I started checking and, yeah, Baltimore is very.. Baltimore-ish. Then my little mind started grinding.
‘If I’m already switching schools and since Peter (my bf) is still ‘stuck’ in Geneva.. Isn’t Paris closer?
TRIGGER WARNING
So, here’s where the 'nepo baby' magic happens.
I called my Grandmère. ring.ring
“Umm, I’m thinking the Université Paris Cité might be better than Baltimore.. Is that CrAzY?”
After a moment's silence, Grandmère said,
“Can you forward me your Hopkins acceptance letter?”
And thirty minutes later (9pm Paris time, mind you), I got a call from Université Paris Cité admissions. I’m in. The program starts September 1st.
Then François, one of my Grandmère’s corporate minions called and said:
"Johns Hopkins appreciated the quick notice.
The movers will be there, for you and Charles @ 9am tomorrow morning.
Your flight (to Paris) leaves @ 9:22pm tomorrow night..
Your TSA PreChecks, and Global Entry passes are complete.
I mailed you your flight passes and "Imagine'R" (unlimited Paris travel) cards. A car will be waiting when you arrive.”
François doesn't mess around.
I looked at my watch, it was 2:45 in the afternoon.
**** I need to tell Charles we're moving to Paris tomorrow.*
Yes, I exist in a charmed circle - if you discount the contentiousness of the choice - my Mom’s now mad at me and my sister’s not too happy
- I’m totes charmed.
Of course, the Hopkins acceptance (and the full-ride scholarship I declined) will now pass on to another lucky student.
Sometimes what you want
is lurking in the shadows
just out of reach - do you dare disclose it -
risk exposing it, when some might oppose it?
The bible says “Ask and you shall receive.”
In real life, that may require more than belief,
if your secret wishes, you are to achieve.
.
.
Songs for this:
Give Paris One More Chance by Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers
The Paris Match (feat. Tracey Thorn) by The Style Council
Nostalgie Du Voyage by Tape Five
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 2:14 PM UTC
I'd totes write to you
the sweetest poem to grace your ears
but my diction and lack of rhythm
leave something to be desired
I do admire the words,
their cadence and flow
and wish I could piece them together
to tell you how much I love you
but I have this rule of thumb see,
press the enter key and move on.
it will sound kind of poetic.
Even though I just kind of drone
on and on and on.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC