"warier" poems - Hello Poetry

I want to write in hyroglrifics to conceal my words from myself, cryptic messages not i, not no one, can unravel. Instead thoughts lay beside my heart on my sleeve This same sleeve that got ripped open a long time ago, and ever since i have become an involuntary show and tell Yes I've tried fixing it but the staples, awkward and painful, hold place until next time There is always a next time I took the shirt to the physician and she told me it was broken beyond repair And the best that I could hope for is these makeshift staples, strewn along where the label used to reside inside the cuff. It used keep my secrets in. And not let anything out. See, then I had the choice. I could unbutton the cuff and occasionally I would, but devoid of choice makes one warier than the average warrior. Back when the shirt first ripped, in that crucial bit just tucked away under the cuff, I used to pester the doc about the possibility of a transfer. She fed me all the words that I longed to hear, but now I realise she had the choice. Her words were nothing more than a bandage laden with cotton wool. Just temporary. But they cushioned me at the time. Hey, at least she gives me staples on prescription.

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Aug 27, 2013

Aug 27, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC

vanessa-martin

Staples

I want to write in hyroglrifics to conceal my words from myself, cryptic messages not i, not no one, can unravel. Instead thoughts lay beside my heart on my sleeve This same sleeve that got ripped open a long time ago, and ever since i have become an involuntary show and tell Yes I've tried fixing it but the staples, awkward and painful, hold place until next time There is always a next time I took the shirt to the physician and she told me it was broken beyond repair And the best that I could hope for is these makeshift staples, strewn along where the label used to reside inside the cuff. It used keep my secrets in. And not let anything out. See, then I had the choice. I could unbutton the cuff and occasionally I would, but devoid of choice makes one warier than the average warrior. Back when the shirt first ripped, in that crucial bit just tucked away under the cuff, I used to pester the doc about the possibility of a transfer. She fed me all the words that I longed to hear, but now I realise she had the choice. Her words were nothing more than a bandage laden with cotton wool. Just temporary. But they cushioned me at the time. Hey, at least she gives me staples on prescription.

10

sometimes the ghosts sing but at times they scream same thing with my dreams but what about when all is shrill & pain filled while the words are wounds which whine I'll be well on my way to wasted with white wine exit to extreme intoxication safe in self-immolation you know you don't matter & whatever you share you'll never get her and mister martyr you are all too aware you'll never forget her alcohol coma comin' come on baby another new numbin' un-reminding me but beware its violet kiss be even warier of its violent bliss solo so low The Jester's Tears they still fall empty tears arid barren how do I blind my mind's eye? I don't want to think its sights anymore And I must mute the fuckin' poet dam the **** romantic drivel downpour know why its the worst more of less than even the first? only began to know her never went within her world among the few glances were precious true glimpses poignant potent powerful portraits sharing Real emotional details joyful & painful fun & ****** and now you'll know no more

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May 17, 2014

May 17, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC

ohnoe

title is as title does

sometimes the ghosts sing but at times they scream same thing with my dreams but what about when all is shrill & pain filled while the words are wounds which whine I'll be well on my way to wasted with white wine exit to extreme intoxication safe in self-immolation you know you don't matter & whatever you share you'll never get her and mister martyr you are all too aware you'll never forget her alcohol coma comin' come on baby another new numbin' un-reminding me but beware its violet kiss be even warier of its violent bliss solo so low The Jester's Tears they still fall empty tears arid barren how do I blind my mind's eye? I don't want to think its sights anymore And I must mute the fuckin' poet dam the **** romantic drivel downpour know why its the worst more of less than even the first? only began to know her never went within her world among the few glances were precious true glimpses poignant potent powerful portraits sharing Real emotional details joyful & painful fun & ****** and now you'll know no more

43

April of 1972 All that spring, the choppers fell like fat, black flies, swatted by rockets, their crews tumbling in abrupt terror, but I soared on like Icarus, only warier of the burning sky and made it home ~mce

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Apr 26, 2015

Apr 26, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC

mike-essig

Easter Invasion

April of 1972 All that spring, the choppers fell like fat, black flies, swatted by rockets, their crews tumbling in abrupt terror, but I soared on like Icarus, only warier of the burning sky and made it home ~mce

12

There once was a woman named Filli Who was bit by a Wheaton named Tilly A scarier terrier'd have made Filli warier Now Filli fears Tilly's a carrier.

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Oct 1, 2016

Oct 1, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC

StartledBoar

Rabid Rhyming

There once was a woman named Filli Who was bit by a Wheaton named Tilly A scarier terrier'd have made Filli warier Now Filli fears Tilly's a carrier.

4