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cresun Sep 2013
there was a girl
who loved me so
named me bestie
gifted me with seashells
and sometimes,
baked brownie
to unfrown me

there was a girl
who taught me braids
loved poking my cheeks
and took photos of me
secretly

there was a girl
who got her heart
into pieces by bestie
and all she did is
to give her love
but only to get
none in return

she was a bird flying above
the sky all alone for no one
loved her anymore

she flew so far away
that i never saw her
ever again

she was gone;
no more brownie
no more grins
and the seashells
turned navy
oddly

twenty-nine-june,
i sat in the coffee shop
with my warm white coffee
and a copy of
stephen chbosky

she flew back home and
she descried me there
came up to me with
a beauteous grin
i last seen in
december '11

we talked
we laughed
we cried
we story-telled

(i remember, she once said,
back when i still
have the name bestie,
that she loved when
we used the term story-tell
for it made the sun and moon
collide together)

i was told that
this lovely girl's wrist
was named demon
and she **** it every time
he tries to drown her
in a sea of darkness

this time,
i got my heart into pieces
told her the same
and pinky promise was made

(like they always said,
promises are meant to be
b/r/o/k/e/n
and it did)

there is a girl
who i love so
named her bestie
and i will hold her
when she is

f
a
l
l
i
n
g

apart
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
~ BY THEODORE ROETHKE
The whiskey on your breath  
Could make a small boy dizzy;  
But I hung on like death:  
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans  
Slid from the kitchen shelf;  
My mother’s countenance  
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist  
Was battered on one knuckle;  
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head  
With a palm caked hard by dirt,  
Then waltzed me off to bed  
Still clinging to your shirt.
I used this little poem to teach college students how to read closely. It took a full hour to go through it line by line. They were amazed at how much is in so few lines. That's how you learn to read poetry, which really helps you learn to write it.  Mike

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