"waterbottle" poems - Hello Poetry

i wanted to write a poem about your curls and how they made my heart beat like a drum played by a five-year old who had chocolate cake for lunch how my fingers were fighting each other and fighting the urge to tangle with yours and make their way to that chocolate colored head of yours and get tangled in it too and i wanted to write a poem of how much i wanted to be like Cinderella and leave something behind with the hopes that you’d call me back something like a notebook or my polka-dotted waterbottle but i guess the only thing i left was a tiny little part of my heart on the backseat of your car

0

Apr 14, 2017

Apr 14, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC

gabycompres

love poem for an uber driver

i wanted to write a poem about your curls and how they made my heart beat like a drum played by a five-year old who had chocolate cake for lunch how my fingers were fighting each other and fighting the urge to tangle with yours and make their way to that chocolate colored head of yours and get tangled in it too and i wanted to write a poem of how much i wanted to be like Cinderella and leave something behind with the hopes that you’d call me back something like a notebook or my polka-dotted waterbottle but i guess the only thing i left was a tiny little part of my heart on the backseat of your car

20

i was going to write a piece using the word we entirely too often. talk about the slip of your palms down my cheeks, the floaty high after you don't sleep for forty-eight hours and then skip gallantly through the albertson's parking lot. i was going to write this immense prose with weaving metaphors and phrases that begged to be spoken. a piece with a moral, about a boy and a girl, or maybe two girls, or an animal and the voice that haunts it. about a willow bride with gauze wrapped firmly around a puncture wound. describe the inner monologue of a park bench. but maybe not, because that would be deleted. i could write you a letter, because you know who you are. or the empty waterbottle that is staring mournfully at me, or burlap sacks, or the words that i speak of constantly but never speak.

0

Jan 3, 2011

Jan 3, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC

beth-winters

arrowhead mountain spring water

i was going to write a piece using the word we entirely too often. talk about the slip of your palms down my cheeks, the floaty high after you don't sleep for forty-eight hours and then skip gallantly through the albertson's parking lot. i was going to write this immense prose with weaving metaphors and phrases that begged to be spoken. a piece with a moral, about a boy and a girl, or maybe two girls, or an animal and the voice that haunts it. about a willow bride with gauze wrapped firmly around a puncture wound. describe the inner monologue of a park bench. but maybe not, because that would be deleted. i could write you a letter, because you know who you are. or the empty waterbottle that is staring mournfully at me, or burlap sacks, or the words that i speak of constantly but never speak.

2

The first girl I liked Liked the Black Eyed Peas more And she would sing As she skipped circles around me in the schoolyard My mom always told me she would grow up to be a lesbian I wished she was right The second girl I liked Had a Hello Kitty tracksuit And I still worried About what to wear around her I told her her religious waterbottle was tacky And I know we’ve both cried over that The third girl I liked Sailed on a pirate ship And sometimes we would laugh about it But sometimes we wouldn’t I liked the way her eyes looked when she laughed I still do The fourth girl I liked Was the third girl I liked I liked her for a long time And sometimes we would laugh about it but sometimes we wouldn’t My mom always told me she would grow up to be a lesbian I wished she was right The fifth time I liked someone For the first time I liked someone They turned out not to be a girl but it was okay because I turned out not to be a girl either I would never call a religion tacky now The sixth time I liked someone The fifth girl I liked She wore a crown of fire everyday Something someone else might call hair We didn’t last long because she came to realize that for her I needed to be a girl too

0

May 24, 2013

May 24, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC

hodgins

Girls

The first girl I liked Liked the Black Eyed Peas more And she would sing As she skipped circles around me in the schoolyard My mom always told me she would grow up to be a lesbian I wished she was right The second girl I liked Had a Hello Kitty tracksuit And I still worried About what to wear around her I told her her religious waterbottle was tacky And I know we’ve both cried over that The third girl I liked Sailed on a pirate ship And sometimes we would laugh about it But sometimes we wouldn’t I liked the way her eyes looked when she laughed I still do The fourth girl I liked Was the third girl I liked I liked her for a long time And sometimes we would laugh about it but sometimes we wouldn’t My mom always told me she would grow up to be a lesbian I wished she was right The fifth time I liked someone For the first time I liked someone They turned out not to be a girl but it was okay because I turned out not to be a girl either I would never call a religion tacky now The sixth time I liked someone The fifth girl I liked She wore a crown of fire everyday Something someone else might call hair We didn’t last long because she came to realize that for her I needed to be a girl too

36

I am twenty years old I don’t sing in the shower, But I always try to harmonize in the car My waterbottle is my favorite accessory I still wear youth large clothes, And steal from my mom’s closet I like to wear the color red, But I usually buy things that are blue, and my favorite color is purple My thoughts and my actions often don’t match up I never pay attention in class, and sometimes focus more on IMDB than the movie in front of me I always run out of free article reads online, but have a tough time reading body language I used to be vegetarian I don’t eat salmon And I am pretty sure ranch dressing goes with everything I like snapchat But the idea of big brother scares me Perhaps its because I am an only child My hands are always dancing And my shoes are always laced up to run I always talking about growing up As if my future is not already knocking on my door I don’t think its fair that we don’t have enough time to be everyone we’d wish to be That we only get one lifetime to figure it out I want to be a professional dancer who acts on the side and is a nurse by night I want to travel the world, but also have a picket fence house To be a bachelorette for life, but have a family waiting at home I have been blessed with good health But I’m not convinced that there isn’t a disease hiding in my abdomen I have good grades But somehow I have a hard time making sense of everyday life I wish I knew what it felt like to be friends with me But still, I don’t like myself very much And I don’t like other people either Or maybe other people don’t like me I used to love the color gray Perhaps because I was trying to find comfort in the uncertainty Or I couldn’t decide whether light or dark made me feel at home I believe in Sunday mornings, And rainy days An overcast sky makes me feel more alive But if you ask me why, I probably would not have an answer I don’t like having my picture taken, Though always smile when I’m taking someone else’s I am afraid of tomorrow, And yesterday’s should haves, Scare me I am not very good with a GPS But being lost never worries me Except for that one time, In the woods, Alone Probably because being alone feels infinite And being together feels fleeting I treasure my alone time, but am Always missing You I’m not sure if this is all worth it, But for what its worth, It just might be

0

Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC

elle-nell

Introspect

I am twenty years old I don’t sing in the shower, But I always try to harmonize in the car My waterbottle is my favorite accessory I still wear youth large clothes, And steal from my mom’s closet I like to wear the color red, But I usually buy things that are blue, and my favorite color is purple My thoughts and my actions often don’t match up I never pay attention in class, and sometimes focus more on IMDB than the movie in front of me I always run out of free article reads online, but have a tough time reading body language I used to be vegetarian I don’t eat salmon And I am pretty sure ranch dressing goes with everything I like snapchat But the idea of big brother scares me Perhaps its because I am an only child My hands are always dancing And my shoes are always laced up to run I always talking about growing up As if my future is not already knocking on my door I don’t think its fair that we don’t have enough time to be everyone we’d wish to be That we only get one lifetime to figure it out I want to be a professional dancer who acts on the side and is a nurse by night I want to travel the world, but also have a picket fence house To be a bachelorette for life, but have a family waiting at home I have been blessed with good health But I’m not convinced that there isn’t a disease hiding in my abdomen I have good grades But somehow I have a hard time making sense of everyday life I wish I knew what it felt like to be friends with me But still, I don’t like myself very much And I don’t like other people either Or maybe other people don’t like me I used to love the color gray Perhaps because I was trying to find comfort in the uncertainty Or I couldn’t decide whether light or dark made me feel at home I believe in Sunday mornings, And rainy days An overcast sky makes me feel more alive But if you ask me why, I probably would not have an answer I don’t like having my picture taken, Though always smile when I’m taking someone else’s I am afraid of tomorrow, And yesterday’s should haves, Scare me I am not very good with a GPS But being lost never worries me Except for that one time, In the woods, Alone Probably because being alone feels infinite And being together feels fleeting I treasure my alone time, but am Always missing You I’m not sure if this is all worth it, But for what its worth, It just might be

63

i'd been saving this cream colored dress for you with the silk lining and lace flowers at the hem, instead i am brushing pollen off my shoulders knee deep in dandelions pulling canada thistle and sheperds purse a black and white filmstrip on the refrigerator moving in stop motion empty moscato a blue flannel and a half drunk waterbottle still on the right side of my bed.

0

May 14, 2017

May 14, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC

broooke

broken: in analogies.

i'd been saving this cream colored dress for you with the silk lining and lace flowers at the hem, instead i am brushing pollen off my shoulders knee deep in dandelions pulling canada thistle and sheperds purse a black and white filmstrip on the refrigerator moving in stop motion empty moscato a blue flannel and a half drunk waterbottle still on the right side of my bed.

20

you, soidal like a wave that comes creeping under my cages. covers. and the hairs in your ear. stand still enough so as not to get caught- in empathy under a reaming sleep. i tricked you into going for a ride while the roads were still wet. there, nothing left to do. and i, the lisping slit filled to a two fingered fist. front feet dragging across the threads of a plastic waterbottle mouth. the bullet passed through. wetpennies.numb-deep in the lungs the slippery film of a chewable vitamin still clinging under molars. socks slipping down into the toes the air swept aside into a new season, lips flared a weekday in the back seat and when i sweat i check the threat of thunder storms on my weather app. and it calls out to us: have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend don'tfuckwithourhearts don't let me down hold on to it. don't go believing in better things and in and around the ocean, i need a fake friend now repeat it back to me. fix all my mistakes. **** me at the right time. kick me in the skin cells keep me. itching at the skin

0

Dec 18, 2015

Dec 18, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC

k_faye

black haunches

you, soidal like a wave that comes creeping under my cages. covers. and the hairs in your ear. stand still enough so as not to get caught- in empathy under a reaming sleep. i tricked you into going for a ride while the roads were still wet. there, nothing left to do. and i, the lisping slit filled to a two fingered fist. front feet dragging across the threads of a plastic waterbottle mouth. the bullet passed through. wetpennies.numb-deep in the lungs the slippery film of a chewable vitamin still clinging under molars. socks slipping down into the toes the air swept aside into a new season, lips flared a weekday in the back seat and when i sweat i check the threat of thunder storms on my weather app. and it calls out to us: have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend don'tfuckwithourhearts don't let me down hold on to it. don't go believing in better things and in and around the ocean, i need a fake friend now repeat it back to me. fix all my mistakes. **** me at the right time. kick me in the skin cells keep me. itching at the skin

40

Looking up, a glance through the room, the eyes searching for something to hold on to. Our eyes met, right between your neighbors waterbottle and the back of my frontmans chair. I blinked and you looked away again. My first day in the new class and yet, are your brown eyes everything I remember Ive never been known for giving up easily and never been told to be a coward and yet Did your eyes make me feel helpless like a fly trapped in a web with no chance of getting away The following weeks, months and years would not differ much from how this whole thing started. For every word we spoke Ive liked you more For every laugh you laughed my heart stopped a beat Every smile claimed a piece of me. Every waking moment, every single dream As time went by, my feelings did not stop And I started to feel more positive around you. Ive loved before. I thought I knew what I had to expect but you showed me that I was wrong Ive never told you this and I probably never will, but you made my life better than you would ever imagine. We talked. We laughed. We even danced together once on the schoolyard when we got told we could graduate. I never asked you out. I was afraid you would reject me. I thought I would not be good enough for you. Every time you laughed or smiled and you sat there with your friends I realized that I would just be in the way. You were happy all along So all I could do is make things worse for you The last time I saw you, was at our prom. At our graduation ceremony. We all drank that evening And the last time I saw you, you stood next to me at the bar ordering beer for you and your friends. You with your red dress, your braided dark hair looking at me with your brown eyes. We exchanged a few words... nothing to memorable. Not as memorable as you when you took the beer smiled at me and went back to your friends. I met you nearly three years ago. I learned to like you and even to love you. Yet I never told you. But maybe I should have.. because I will probably never see you again

0

Jul 4, 2018

Jul 4, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC

DrSabberlappen

I never told you

Looking up, a glance through the room, the eyes searching for something to hold on to. Our eyes met, right between your neighbors waterbottle and the back of my frontmans chair. I blinked and you looked away again. My first day in the new class and yet, are your brown eyes everything I remember Ive never been known for giving up easily and never been told to be a coward and yet Did your eyes make me feel helpless like a fly trapped in a web with no chance of getting away The following weeks, months and years would not differ much from how this whole thing started. For every word we spoke Ive liked you more For every laugh you laughed my heart stopped a beat Every smile claimed a piece of me. Every waking moment, every single dream As time went by, my feelings did not stop And I started to feel more positive around you. Ive loved before. I thought I knew what I had to expect but you showed me that I was wrong Ive never told you this and I probably never will, but you made my life better than you would ever imagine. We talked. We laughed. We even danced together once on the schoolyard when we got told we could graduate. I never asked you out. I was afraid you would reject me. I thought I would not be good enough for you. Every time you laughed or smiled and you sat there with your friends I realized that I would just be in the way. You were happy all along So all I could do is make things worse for you The last time I saw you, was at our prom. At our graduation ceremony. We all drank that evening And the last time I saw you, you stood next to me at the bar ordering beer for you and your friends. You with your red dress, your braided dark hair looking at me with your brown eyes. We exchanged a few words... nothing to memorable. Not as memorable as you when you took the beer smiled at me and went back to your friends. I met you nearly three years ago. I learned to like you and even to love you. Yet I never told you. But maybe I should have.. because I will probably never see you again

43

The Middleman is at the start with a fistfull of pockets. He walks more than he talks it, with empty hands. Orange Peel knuckles; peeling, showing A segmented truth. He mocks it. Wholly revealing hisself with waterbottle lungs, Breathing, squeezing; knuckles popping cracking, rabble-rousing- The Jenga game of a rib cage - - sounding skeleton and shouting - As the beating heart un-falls apart Unprotected, Uncontained. By what unscrutability can a pure heart be blood-stained? As his vain-ed cadence flows below the stone The stone; a frame, posed. Humble, yet reigns. Like, the middleman comes to the end and By God! Someone's killed the messenger, By God! Inadvertent Changing channels, all this static passive staging Battles A rib cage match like unintended, homicidal rattles As spinal shivers, the Middleman Delivers.

0

Jun 29, 2017

Jun 29, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC

kaaarrrlllj

The Middleman

The Middleman is at the start with a fistfull of pockets. He walks more than he talks it, with empty hands. Orange Peel knuckles; peeling, showing A segmented truth. He mocks it. Wholly revealing hisself with waterbottle lungs, Breathing, squeezing; knuckles popping cracking, rabble-rousing- The Jenga game of a rib cage - - sounding skeleton and shouting - As the beating heart un-falls apart Unprotected, Uncontained. By what unscrutability can a pure heart be blood-stained? As his vain-ed cadence flows below the stone The stone; a frame, posed. Humble, yet reigns. Like, the middleman comes to the end and By God! Someone's killed the messenger, By God! Inadvertent Changing channels, all this static passive staging Battles A rib cage match like unintended, homicidal rattles As spinal shivers, the Middleman Delivers.

28