"twentyone" poems - Hello Poetry

you said you had never seen a girl who could drink ***** straight from the cheap plastic bottle its slow burn cauterizing my mental wounds allowing me to feel comfortable about my self, my body entwined in sticky arms under the covers and i said i was not as green as my missing four years would encolor me flushing my cheeks- bare, words bare-boned on your bare chest fingers weaving reassurances through firey hair but what i kept close, behind closed chapped lips forbid to let slip from cigarette- burned lungs was that never had i ever been nestled so close to another fledgling and yet it felt so natural to me

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC

korey-miller-1

"trust-me" twentyone

you said you had never seen a girl who could drink ***** straight from the cheap plastic bottle its slow burn cauterizing my mental wounds allowing me to feel comfortable about my self, my body entwined in sticky arms under the covers and i said i was not as green as my missing four years would encolor me flushing my cheeks- bare, words bare-boned on your bare chest fingers weaving reassurances through firey hair but what i kept close, behind closed chapped lips forbid to let slip from cigarette- burned lungs was that never had i ever been nestled so close to another fledgling and yet it felt so natural to me

37

Tiny steps to solid strides We wonder why we wander Everglades that consume the fire Never waking from my slumber Twins that vanish from my mind Youth that ticked at a rate most unkind Once upon a May I say so Nothing is Ever in two neat rows

0

Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC

r-lrl

twentyone

Tiny steps to solid strides We wonder why we wander Everglades that consume the fire Never waking from my slumber Twins that vanish from my mind Youth that ticked at a rate most unkind Once upon a May I say so Nothing is Ever in two neat rows

9

Harsh not hard. Hounded like Anne Frank Treated like a victim, A Prisoner of YOUR war In your own freak show parade Somehow Despite my disgust And my dispair I have made it this far As a personal puppet To a sick monster master Of a mother One short stretch of twentyone years Feels like the Coldest and Longest Cold World Fair I do believe It is time to retire. So Thank you ever so kindly For your extended invite- But this time by choice With no regret nor remorse Ill kindly Say, "No Thanks" And skip away To be on my way Never ever to be Your puppet prisoner Or your daughter.

0

Jun 22, 2010

Jun 22, 2010 at 7:51 AM UTC

kimmy-nichole

Puppet Prisoner.

Harsh not hard. Hounded like Anne Frank Treated like a victim, A Prisoner of YOUR war In your own freak show parade Somehow Despite my disgust And my dispair I have made it this far As a personal puppet To a sick monster master Of a mother One short stretch of twentyone years Feels like the Coldest and Longest Cold World Fair I do believe It is time to retire. So Thank you ever so kindly For your extended invite- But this time by choice With no regret nor remorse Ill kindly Say, "No Thanks" And skip away To be on my way Never ever to be Your puppet prisoner Or your daughter.

27

One round In the chamber, Thirty in the magazine, One moment makes a lifetime, Two seconds taken to breath. Three brothers at my back, Four wolves in the hunt. Five miles to ruck before rest, Six hours to sleep tonight. Seven days left for another week, Eight civillians lost as collateral. Nine houses cleared without incident, The Tenth is where they're waiting. Eleven minutes for the firefight, Twelve rounds taken to the legs. Thirteen minutes until Medevac arrives, Fourteen month recovery. Fifteen minutes left before lights out. Mag is half full. Sixteen hours to rest and clean weapons, Seventeen men play cards in the barracks Eighteen minutes left during fire guard, Nineteen year old soldiers miss their family. Twenty minute call home to loved ones. Twentyone shots over a white headstone. Twentytwo streets left to clear before dusk, Twentythree families bustle in the bazaar. Twentyfour hours in each day in hell. Twentyfive men craving cigarettes. Twentysix reports of gunfire this morning. Twentyseven combatants killed. Twentyeight days left in deployment. Twentynine years old at honorable discharge, 30 family members waiting to welcome you home. 31 days in every month spent in the devil's sandbox. Click Mag is empty. Drop mag Draw new mag Load into well Hit bolt release Continue fighting

0

Sep 5, 2017

Sep 5, 2017 at 4:12 AM UTC

Wordfreak

Counting

One round In the chamber, Thirty in the magazine, One moment makes a lifetime, Two seconds taken to breath. Three brothers at my back, Four wolves in the hunt. Five miles to ruck before rest, Six hours to sleep tonight. Seven days left for another week, Eight civillians lost as collateral. Nine houses cleared without incident, The Tenth is where they're waiting. Eleven minutes for the firefight, Twelve rounds taken to the legs. Thirteen minutes until Medevac arrives, Fourteen month recovery. Fifteen minutes left before lights out. Mag is half full. Sixteen hours to rest and clean weapons, Seventeen men play cards in the barracks Eighteen minutes left during fire guard, Nineteen year old soldiers miss their family. Twenty minute call home to loved ones. Twentyone shots over a white headstone. Twentytwo streets left to clear before dusk, Twentythree families bustle in the bazaar. Twentyfour hours in each day in hell. Twentyfive men craving cigarettes. Twentysix reports of gunfire this morning. Twentyseven combatants killed. Twentyeight days left in deployment. Twentynine years old at honorable discharge, 30 family members waiting to welcome you home. 31 days in every month spent in the devil's sandbox. Click Mag is empty. Drop mag Draw new mag Load into well Hit bolt release Continue fighting

42

Stretched out in your Sunday morning way with your mouth slightly open and your hands, together, curled up by your jaw, you look like the best thing that has happened to me.

0

Feb 4, 2014

Feb 4, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC

rebecca-mcdade

four twentyone thirteen

Stretched out in your Sunday morning way with your mouth slightly open and your hands, together, curled up by your jaw, you look like the best thing that has happened to me.

9