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"waldosia" poems
*Fall In Love Or Fall In Lust. Make Plans, Or Make Cookies. There Is Living To Do Here. There Are Books To Read, And Movies To Watch. There Are Art Museums Meant To Wonder Through, And Ocean Waters To Taste. There Are Plays That Deserve Standing Ovations, And Musicals With Words That Need To Be Sung, There Are Girls That Need To Be Kissed, There Are Boys That Need To Know What It Feels Like To Have Their Hands Held. There Are Poems That Need To Be Screamed At The Tops Of Someone's Lungs. There Are History Books With Frayed Edges, And Broken Tea Pots That Died Before Their First Breath. There Are Heart Throbs Waiting To Make Teenage Girls Swoon. There Are Jeans, With Knees That Are Begging To Be Ripped Open. There Are Sunflowers That Have Never Been Told “You Are My Sunshine”. There Are Grandfathers With Empty Laps, And Mothers With Empty Wallets. There Are Law Students, With Hearts Ready For Humanity, There Are Babies With Broken Families. There Are Fortune Cookies With Untold Wisdom, And Grandmothers With The Best Rhubarb Crisp Recipe You Have Ever Tasted. There Are Undiscovered Passions, And Ancient Ruins. There Are Empty Canvases And Blank White Walls. There Are Silences, Recorded And Played Back For The Ears Of The Empty. There Are Places On This Earth Where The Sky Is The Color Of Bleeding Tissue Paper. There Are Places On This Earth, Where Dry Lightening Storms, Are As If God Himself Is Snapping Photos. There Are Lost Valentines, And Flickering Lampposts. There Are Forgotten Dates And Remember Birthdays. There Are Lost Puppies And One Man Bands. There Are Butterflies With Missing Wings, And Eagles That Mate For Life. There Are Places We Put Our Insane, And Others We Place Our Sick. We Have Tattooed Our Mistakes On Skin, And Branded Cattle To The Same Tune. There Are Times We Fall Together, And Others In Witch We Fall Apart. There Are Moments When We Gage Our Existence In The Breaths We Take, And Moments When We Gage It In The Moments That Take Our Breath Away. There Are Times We Take Chances And Times We Take Pills. There Are Moments When We Bruise Our Knees While Praying, And Others Where We Break Kneecaps For Dollar Bills. There Is Living To Be Done Here. There Are Words To Be Spoken, And Even More To Be Written.*
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Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
leah-rae
Waldosia
*Fall In Love Or Fall In Lust. Make Plans, Or Make Cookies. There Is Living To Do Here. There Are Books To Read, And Movies To Watch. There Are Art Museums Meant To Wonder Through, And Ocean Waters To Taste. There Are Plays That Deserve Standing Ovations, And Musicals With Words That Need To Be Sung, There Are Girls That Need To Be Kissed, There Are Boys That Need To Know What It Feels Like To Have Their Hands Held. There Are Poems That Need To Be Screamed At The Tops Of Someone's Lungs. There Are History Books With Frayed Edges, And Broken Tea Pots That Died Before Their First Breath. There Are Heart Throbs Waiting To Make Teenage Girls Swoon. There Are Jeans, With Knees That Are Begging To Be Ripped Open. There Are Sunflowers That Have Never Been Told “You Are My Sunshine”. There Are Grandfathers With Empty Laps, And Mothers With Empty Wallets. There Are Law Students, With Hearts Ready For Humanity, There Are Babies With Broken Families. There Are Fortune Cookies With Untold Wisdom, And Grandmothers With The Best Rhubarb Crisp Recipe You Have Ever Tasted. There Are Undiscovered Passions, And Ancient Ruins. There Are Empty Canvases And Blank White Walls. There Are Silences, Recorded And Played Back For The Ears Of The Empty. There Are Places On This Earth Where The Sky Is The Color Of Bleeding Tissue Paper. There Are Places On This Earth, Where Dry Lightening Storms, Are As If God Himself Is Snapping Photos. There Are Lost Valentines, And Flickering Lampposts. There Are Forgotten Dates And Remember Birthdays. There Are Lost Puppies And One Man Bands. There Are Butterflies With Missing Wings, And Eagles That Mate For Life. There Are Places We Put Our Insane, And Others We Place Our Sick. We Have Tattooed Our Mistakes On Skin, And Branded Cattle To The Same Tune. There Are Times We Fall Together, And Others In Witch We Fall Apart. There Are Moments When We Gage Our Existence In The Breaths We Take, And Moments When We Gage It In The Moments That Take Our Breath Away. There Are Times We Take Chances And Times We Take Pills. There Are Moments When We Bruise Our Knees While Praying, And Others Where We Break Kneecaps For Dollar Bills. There Is Living To Be Done Here. There Are Words To Be Spoken, And Even More To Be Written.*
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There’s a broken bird in the red snow at sunset Drenched in water and freezing fast at the hands Of two red-blooded boys who laughed At the feeble chirps of protest emitted from between The little pink lips of a red-cheeked girl Her blue mittens were matted with snow and flying fast Hurling packed ***** of frozen water at the boys Even as the sun disappeared behind their heads And she was trapped in their shadow She dispelled them in haste and in a spray of snow They were gone leaving a broken bird and a sad little girl She took the white scarf from around her neck and shivered The bird chirped meekly as it was wrapped and carried Mother’s sympathetic smile was not enough Nor were father’s promises The bird was put in a box outside to spend the night As a storm raged outside she could not sleep The empty box in the morning a ray of hope Or a damnable void She chose hope and washed her red-speckled scarf And in the spring among the many-winged shadows She searched for her bird certain he still flew
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Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
jessamine-crise
Waldosia
There’s a broken bird in the red snow at sunset Drenched in water and freezing fast at the hands Of two red-blooded boys who laughed At the feeble chirps of protest emitted from between The little pink lips of a red-cheeked girl Her blue mittens were matted with snow and flying fast Hurling packed ***** of frozen water at the boys Even as the sun disappeared behind their heads And she was trapped in their shadow She dispelled them in haste and in a spray of snow They were gone leaving a broken bird and a sad little girl She took the white scarf from around her neck and shivered The bird chirped meekly as it was wrapped and carried Mother’s sympathetic smile was not enough Nor were father’s promises The bird was put in a box outside to spend the night As a storm raged outside she could not sleep The empty box in the morning a ray of hope Or a damnable void She chose hope and washed her red-speckled scarf And in the spring among the many-winged shadows She searched for her bird certain he still flew
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