"whizzed" poems
Jim’s younger sister
Followed you everywhere
and stood watching
as you rode the old car
around the field
or whizzed around
on their motorbike
to the cheers and shouts
from the fence
Monica why don’t you
go off and play
Jim said
yes
said Pete
her other brother
go play with your dolls
go take a run and jump
she said
and still stood watching you
her eyes fixed on you
like wasps on a jam jar
I want to watch him ride
she said
and stood with her hands
on her hips
waiting until you stopped
the bike and got off
and wandered over to you
and said
I like the way you ride
like how you sway
and swerve on the bike
and you smiled at her
and took in
her short stature
her dark eyes
her determined expression
and as Pete rode off
on the bike
and Jim stood
on the fence
calling to him
Monica put her hand in yours
and said
wish you were my brother
I know you’d let me ride
the bike or car
and not tease me
or bawl me out
I guess I would
let you ride the bike or car
you said
and sensed
her small hand in yours
her thumb rubbing
against your skin
but seeing
as you’re not my brother
she whispered
maybe you could
marry me one day
and we could ride off
into the sunset
like they do in the movies
in Jim’s old car
yes sure maybe
you said
knowing inside
that’d be a bridge too far.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
My feelings had wheels that day.
they slid and fell and whizzed past
I tried keeping up with them
I laced my skates tight to hold my own
I cleared my head in crowds,
tossing myself forward so I could be on the same
track
And I still need more practice
I never caught up with them.
But you couldn't skate.
You were a baby giraffe and I felt unfair
You let me grab your hand.
And around we stumbled.
I told myself that if you fell it would be over
between us.
But I smiled as we rounded each corner
I smiled when I looked and saw our hands together.
I smiled when I knew you were right there
And I smiled when I held you up.
Held you steady.
I felt like an oak tree.
I didn't talk enough.
But you sure enough didn't fall on my watch.
maybe I wish you had.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
I am Immortal
I am Invincible
I am Imemorable
I am the blackness living deep
in the bile ducts of your lungs,
I hear you whisper my name;
and I shiver.
I have neither hero nor god:
I am that I am that I am-
ALIVE
I learned not the word caution
I know not the meaning of a future:
I am where I am where I am-
NOW
The bullet which ricocheted off my right *** cheek and exploded through my left ******** seemed to have its own voice as it whizzed by, winking, “The truth may set you free young man, but not until it is finished with you.”
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Letters come & go.
Messages from home: love lost.
Jefferson Davis
& “Honest” Abe Lincoln’s war…
…nothing more than flexing strength.
The sun rises up
above the barren Culp’s Hill
as Ewell kept them
back, & Jackson’s wishes were
lost on Cemetery Hill.
Gettysburg was filled
with mudpits, puddlepits, shitpits
& every kind of
pit. Not any kind that they
wished to see as guns moved up.
The barrage of shells
from the artillery was
never ending, not
unlike this cursed war, all
while brothers & sons were lost.
The second day came
with no signs of stopping, he
packed his gear, grabbed his
rifle, & marched out to the
sound of Charon’s ferrying.
The medic rushes
out onto the battlefield
hesitating not.
His crude instruments flailing
about in his pack, he works.
Medicine, horror,
they were synonyms to him
as he braced the man;
scraping against flesh, he screamed.
This Civil War--hell on Earth.
Sawing off a leg
was much harder than once thought,
the medic then knew.
In the thick of battle, screams
drowned out screams, & drowned out screams.
Bullets whizzed by him
as he cleaned up his patient.
Or was it victim?
These days it all seemed the same:
North, South, free, slave, dead, living.
What once was blue ‘n gray
was now brown & black & red.
Explosions tore up
the land around him as he
cleared his vision & finished.
Out of the brush, fear
overtook the medic as
a man in blue clashed
with a man in gray; blood ‘n sweat
drenched both as life was on balance.
The medic was stunned
& failed to bring himself to
act at first. He shook
himself awake, & grabbed his
knife, & leapt into the fray.
His knife plunged precise
into the blue man’s heart. No
soldier, but knew his
stuff. The gray man thanked him, &
the South fought another day.
All for naught, for on
that third day, Lee ran with his
tail betwixt his legs
all the way to Virginia.
Two years later, all for naught.
July fourth, eighteen
sixty-three, no cheers, no love,
no wins for us folk.
Only them **** Yanks get their love
from home: letters come & go.
Sherman’s March left him
quaking in his boots; gone was
his love. Gone was his
home. Gone were his letters. All
of it gone. Gone with the wind.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
When his familiars’ pounced
a little too roughly on the davenport,
the mysteries of the cosmos
flailed about as his soft,
satin bag took a tumble…
Citrine and agate tap-danced
under the bed, as quartz
whizzed wildly through the air
like a shooting star. Opal spun about
like a fiery pirouette, and amethyst –
finding it’s way on the windowsill,
bloomed a kaleidoscope of larkspur
in the sun.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
When I was a little kid
My friends and I would play
At cowboys and Indians
In the barn with forts of hay.
We crafted guns from sticks
We found about the farm
And though we shot each other
We managed to come to no harm.
Bang, bang, bang! I got you!
No you didn’t, you missed!
The bullet whizzed by me!
You can’t see me in the mist!
Of course, if we were Indians
The same rules held true there.
You never managed to **** us
We never took your hair.
But, we knew we were villains
Because cowboys were king.
We didn’t even question it.
It was that sort of thing.
Bang, bang, bang. I got you!
Cowboys don’t ever cry.
We twist and dodge you redskins
So, don’t even bother to try.
Holding invisible reins, we rode
On our noble painted steeds.
We pretended it was the old West
Here in our playground of weeds.
Some of us had play weapons
Santa had brought to the lucky
But forcing improvisation only
Made us a lot more plucky.
Bang, bang, bang. I shot you.
You ***** lowdown rustler.
Oh, we thought of every dodge.
What young, clever hustlers.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
A cyclist in a purple turban and salwar pants
whizzed past us as we trudged up the steep hills
of Arlington, Virginia
His gaze caught mine
just a starry
flash in the bucket
wordless soul communion
that said so much
Do you know what religion he is?
queried my hubby, David
"Sikh...I think" still reflecting
on our brief exchange
David and I were in town for our niece's wedding
and also on vacation
enjoying the sights and plethora
of attractions that flourish in the capitol
city, Washington, DC
As I surveyed the beautiful capitol
abounding with lush gardens, parks,
magnificent magnolia trees and
fragrant pink and white crepe myrtle
I couldn't help observing the rich diversity
of people and cultures working and living
here
"Where are you from?" I asked our taxi driver
"I'm originally from Ethiopia,"
a waiter in a restaurant told us
he was from Morocco...another person from Egypt...
India...China and so on…
USA has a diverse topography
heavenly mountain ranges, verdant forests,
fruitful farmlands
span outward to luminous blue shores
The racial, political, cultural diversity of our
great nation is what makes us so
unique and special
It's in our DNA, and literally in mine,
a real melting ***
All Americans have one thing in common:
our thirst for liberty and freedom
These words from the Memorial of Abraham Lincoln
are brilliant with truth and timeless with love:
"I leave you, hoping that the lamp of liberty
will burn in your bosoms until there shall
no longer be a doubt that all men are
created free and equal." ~Lincoln
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC
North Charleston, South Carolina,
Officer Michael T. Slager fires
Eight SHOTS
At Mr. Walter L. Scott,
Unarmed and running away...
Detained for a traffic stop.
Simple math,
These bullets Eight
Into Mr. Scott:
Five Bullets found him:
Three in the back
One in the rear
One through an ear...
Three bullets whizzed away.
And when Scott fell,
Slager yanked his arms
Behind his back
To cuff his hands...
Ghosts don't take to cuffs
The shooting was enough.
I have not been a marcher,
But I have seen enough,
I have seen enough.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Maktub saw the light at the end of his tunnel
It approached him with a barbaric screech
Doppler shifting to piercing, painful pitch
On the wrong side of tracks he watched the train charge past
In his new freedom, he explored the station
Wandering through the grimy halls by
Too-busy roaches scurrying from the bright
A burpy crumple lump sat propped against the wall
Reeking of sick and
Filth and dead liver
Maktub bought him a sandwich
And left it on his lap, with a dead president
On whose face he had jotted a blotted
Don’t drink me
The *** woke to this, and
Bless you friend, jaundiced beam
Bless you back, sir
Restored faith in (chances) chances
Some teens whizzed unpaying under turnstiles
On rolling boards, lying on their backs and holding bags
Maktub found them clever and pursued
In a secluded spot they made aerosol spray mural
Mischievous hands intricately crafted as cans blasted
Through their mist emerged a mighty orb of life
And in blackness round twinkled possible worlds
He admired their vandalism; art is everywhere, he thought
At sound of step the mural makers
Dashed, leaving colors and can
Maktub raised it, unfamiliar, and finished the wall with
We are one
Returning to his platform, he saw that more had gathered
And a strumming bard, milk eyed, fluttered notes with dancer’s grace
Her voice sent shivers down his spine and lifted him in spirals
I would recognize the
Song of God, he thought (and I know where he is)
The screeching came again, and Maktub
Leaned to watch, eager for his light
His train had come to take him home
He was calm
He was ready
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 10:13 AM UTC
Eternity wheezed,displaying its shortness of breath.Orange orbs whizzed in its' originalpath of vision due to a completelack of oxygen.Stirring stars shot rubber bands at each otheracross the universe. TWANG!Comets were slung like spitballs. Black holespainted each others nails whitewhile biting into a crunchy planet like a Dorito.®Salt of the earth was lost in dank darkness.An Mp3 player came crashing through the stratospherewhile playing my favorite song."Sitting in the morning sun,I'll be sitting when the evening comes,watching the ships roll in, and I watch themroll away again".
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 11:30 PM UTC
It was all a blur...the day I met you
A headache of which 200 MG of Ibuprofen would not satisfy
You might as well have cut my forehead open and questioned if its contents were love or lust
I didn’t know
I had a headache
Oh it was a doozy
Whew Whew Whew
Thoughts whizzed around my head in zip a dee doo das
Fugazi's of Love or Lust
I don’t know
I have a headache
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Oh shall we play space men today
and build a rocket Ted
we need two suits some gloves and boots
and helmets for our head
A packing crate stood tall and straight
dad's funnel placed on top
three books so thin each one a fin
and Mommies broken mop
A beanbag chair we two can share
and buttons we can push
some sandwiches and light switches
and cans of Orange crush
Some dials and springs and other things
we found in daddies shed
now that looks neat so take a seat
and start the countdown Ted
We watched the stars that once so far
where now within our grip
Count ten to one ignition on
Blast off in rocket ship
The silver moon would greet us soon
as upward we both sped
through clouds of white to black of night
just me and mister Ted
The rocket turned as thrusters burned
as we altered our course
for here you see the gravity
Had very little force
We journeyed forth toward the north
by meteor and star
as comets whizzed and pinged and fizzed
and flew both near and far
We passed the plough and saw a cow
jump clean over the moon
then stations manned prepared to land
beside a giant dune
Beneath our feet a silver sheet
of fallen stars and sand
and as we two took in the view
Ted held me by the hand
The solar breeze blew round our knees
and tickled as it passed
time now to go yes Ted I know
this day has gone so fast
seated inside we watched the tide
So slowly ebb and flow
then 10 to 1 zero and gone
we raced the mornings glow
home safe and sound we kissed the ground
and ran in for our tea
I turned to Ted and softly said
the moon just winked at me
What shall we be next time said he
cowboys or maybe kings
I do not know I whispered low
let's see what morning brings
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
Two and sixty days ago —
Two months, or so I'm told —
I wandered, wistful, without cause,
Through a memory of old.
A hall of walls I wandered, tall,
As tall as tales I could weave,
But none as tall as this regale,
A story that you won't believe.
I walked near endless hours,
My only friends the cobblestones,
Ringing in my steps the sin
That only time atones,
When upon that pallid plaster
I did spy a shocking sight:
Upon that place's rocky face,
The wall had turned to light.
"Curious," I cooed and questioned,
Calm as I could never be,
"Perhaps it might be that this light
Is rightly mine, I see?"
And as I pondered that hall I wandered,
A chilling change I never chose arose:
That light so rife with delight and fright
Began to open, and I froze,
For that particular portcullis I pondered
Put me in a vice.
I nary noticed that walls in focus
Had changed into a hall of lights.
Transfixed, the light engulfed me so,
As slow as my bewildered head
Could comprehend the candid land
I planned my final stand in dead.
I whizzed through spaces, unknown places,
In stasis from the faceless force
When finally I fell, the frenzied light
Still tight from an unseemly source.
All at once, those two months
Became a fraction of a wink;
The frost was lost as I was tossed
Among the lights of what I think.
And where else would I find myself
But in this courtyard we call love?
My journey never left my head,
Nor bed's unconscious dreamland hub.
Two and sixty days ago,
I heard these words so true,
And in the dark they were my light:
You told me "I love you."
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
I watch as the rain falls
And I let my mind wander
What happened to us?
What tore us apart?
What changed?
The way you came into my life
I wouldn't have asked for a better way
Filling my days with love and laughter
Making me feel special In every way
I still wonder What changed??
My happiness as your obsession
My sadness your biggest fear
My dreams were your goal in life
Our days whizzed by like the tornado
Our love was admired by all
It was the epitome of joy
Every lovers dream
Two souls as one
Then Love turned its back on us
Reality decided we were too happy
My feelings were extraordinary
Yours were unconditionally
I reminisce about the old days
Tears streaming as I stand by the window
And I silently ask myself
What Changed?
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
Well, today's the kind of day
When I can just sit at my doorstep,
My chappals splashing into the
Little puddle of rainwater that's collected.
Today, I can breathe in fresh, pure greenery,
Feast into this inviting scenery,
And break into a little poetry!
About?
Maybe about how loud the clouds were!
In expressing their happiness,
Their love for us thirsty souls?
Maybe about how the cool breeze
Whizzed past our parched skins,
Blowing to us, its cool Hello?
Or about how squealing kids
Shirts thrown away, drenched skins,
Raced along their paper canoes?
Oh I can write on anything I want,
Oh I'll just hum along Mother Nature's song,
Today is the day for poetry,
Today's rhythm can never go wrong.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
A puddle bloomed on his knee,
as he sat beneath the poplar,
before the church,
waiting.
Anytime now, she
would **** by on her bike
that made noises like a rabid top.
The two soggy cones, held
in his shaking fists
dripped
strawberry cream,
sticky, pungent, and pink.
He had heard that girls like pink.
Roadside gravel crunched
and spun as she
approached.
Her brown legs
were always moving, the
muscles changing—they would
have driven Leonardo mad.
She passed by
blind.
He let the pink
cones fall to the dirt with
the others. Ants gnawed on his
legs. He would try again.
Climbing on the
bridge
with hands full,
always of strawberry cream,
he wavered, nearly fell, and sat
down on the stone ledge.
Gravel ricocheted.
Sleeves,
his and hers,
touched as she passed.
He nearly fell in the water, but
she touched his sleeve,
touched him.
Pink
swirls teased
fish in the rocky creek.
He became a crossing arm with
strawberry cream cones.
Stones sprayed.
Crash.
Why didn’t
you move, you idiot,
she growled, wiping ****** stones
off her once-perfect
knees. He didn’t
speak.
I love you.
Can you move? My
boyfriend is waiting for me, she said,
standing on the pedals,
her legs still.
Numb,
he shifted,
and she whizzed away.
He looked at the gravel lining the bridge
and saw blood staining
the pebbles
red
and pink.
Sifting, them through his
fingers, he knew that on her, he had
left his mark, and him,
she would not
forget.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
After climbing off
the school bus
she grabbed the sleeve
of your coat and said
I want to talk to you
and so you stayed behind
as your sister and hers
walked on ahead
and her brothers ran off
in a game of tag
she released your sleeve
and brushed the hair
out of her eyes
what is it? you asked
walking beside her
along the side of the road
the winter afternoon darkening
what was Roland
saying to you in class?
she asked
Roland?
yes Roland
in the last lesson of maths?
you looked over
at the tall trees
becoming tall giants
as the sky began to dim
he was talking about his sister
you said
then why was he looking at me?
perhaps he finds you attractive
you replied
she slapped your arm
with her hand
don’t talk nonsense
he wouldn’t find
Marilyn Monroe attractive
if she sat
on his bony knees
she said looking at you
with her big blue eyes
you rubbed
your injured arm
playfully
he was saying his sister
had found his collection
of ***** magazines under his bed
you said
a car whizzed by
and she turned
and shouted back at it
some words her mother
would have slapped her
for saying
she sighed and said
why can’t you tell me the truth?
you stopped and stood facing her
her blue eyes gazing at you
searching yours
as if she’d left something there
on a previous occasion
he said he didn’t know
what I saw in you
her eyes enlarged
and what did you say?
she asked
in the sky over her shoulder
the moon was beginning to shine
in competition
with the weak sun
I said you snogged
pretty good
you said
she slapped your arm
and walked on
no
you called out
I was only joking
she stopped
and turned
and glared at you
I said you were the best thing
to happen to me
since God created Sundays
you’re lying
she said
all right
you said
seeing her eyes watering
I said I loved you
you said
looking at her
wondering if her hand
might slap you again
did you?
yes
and what did he say?
she asked
he just shrugged
his shoulders
and drew a picture
of Mr Parrot on the corner
of his maths book
she was silent
and looked by you
at the incoming traffic
then kissed your cheek
leaving a damp patch
like a small oasis
on a dry landscape
of your 14 year old skin
conjuring up images
her mother
would define as sin.
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
You touched me on the shoulder
as you ran quickly by on your phone.
I was in such a hurry
to climb those jenga stairs
that I didn't realize it was you,
until I saw that tiny body
and that frenzy of tousled blond hair
swishing in the wind.
I turned around and ran
to you,
as you walked away.
I ran to you
and grabbed your arm.
"Don't touch me," you said.
Diamonds falling from your eyes,
I picked at them with my pinky fingernail,
searching for the loam beneath.
"Where've you been?" I yelled.
"You don't know what's happened to me!" You yelled,
and you lifted your shirt and felt at a pink scar;
a trench in your belly,
a wound that I had infected.
People stared,
but I just wanted to yell,
there was so much yelling inside of me.
I yelled like a lover yells,
yelled with my heart.
The yell sounded like this:
"Can I hold you one last time?
I just want to hold you," I said,
like a loon,
but it was the only thing
I ever wanted.
To hold all of you
in one moment.
And so you came to me,
and let me hold you a while.
but the skin between us
was better for separating,
and I told you
to call me if you needed me,
even though I knew you never would.
And you walked away,
that tiny body of circling movement
and head full of giant clams
with their swirling pink pearls
moving farther and farther.
Until you were in the distance
and invincible.
Cyclists whizzed by,
phones beeped onward,
taxis rode highways of clouds
beneath the bridge,
and I thrummed quietly,
picking at the diamonds in my hands,
searching for the loam
that I could put into the planters,
food for the flowers
I had always wanted you to see.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 9:44 AM UTC
You whizzed by me.
I must have felt a breeze, but it barely registered.
Such is first meetings, in all truth, dear.
The second time we met I remember
Only because I was proud of myself
For pairing the right name with your face.
Third, I can't remember,
Exactly. Sometime
Sitting around that table -
I know now you must have
Wielded chips as stage props
And used too much chocolate syrup.
Fourth, too. Fifth -
Those are gone.
How can I hold you so precious today
When I knew you so little for so long?
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 10:13 AM UTC
Shafts of courage depicted on the
parchment of hope
Running into beamlight of victory
Leaning towards trunk of optimism
You speak courage
You emit courage
Protruding ribs of scalped stood
on wingspans of surgery
At the hours of the night.
Spring of courage flown into the
feeders of victory.
Spirit of courage locked-up
scroll of fear.
Sun of courage dried up the
stagnant sea of fear.
An entanglement of two wars
fought with two divine axes
of courage.
But you conquered fear.
Sneezing out the mucus of death
from the nostrils of conquest,
Zooming like an eagle soaring into
the waiting arms of the theatre.
Clipping the fangs of scalped with
hope.
Withstanding the chilled cold of the
night.
Resisting assault from the proboscis
of mosquitoes.
Waiting for days in hours.
Tarried for result outside the fragile
womb of life and hope
Tarried for positivity in anxiety
Pendulum of anxiety thickened the
darkness of fear
But you whizzed back like a matador
from the ordeal of a long journey
of life.
A second Lazarus revoked the decree
of death.
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
She drew a breath and let it go as she crept closer to the edge. She shivered as her toes, painted pink, hugged the ledge. She brushed a trespassing orange hair from her brow and and stretched her arms to the sky. Took one final breath as she closed her eyes. She leapt. Pushed her heels into the ground. Then the pads of her toes. The tips of her toes. She extended her arms and flew. And as the world whizzed past in vibrant blacks and grays, the ground below her exploded into detail. It was amazing. Beautiful. The memories of her past were far from her mind, everything terrible shut behind the blinds. The ground rose up to meet her and caressed her cheek. She regained her senses for only a moment and her green eyes flashed a smile. She opened her hands and pressed her fingers to the cool concrete and as a chill ran through her veins. The corners of her perfectly red lips pulled into a gentle smile, and she was happy. Her eyelids fluttered and then laid motionless above her freckled cheeks. She faded as she melted into the ground.----- Her nose twitched and wrinkled to the singe of winter’s chill and the smell of hospital food. She awoke, eyes closed, to the rhythmic chirp of an EKG machine. She ran her hand up her arm and felt the IV and needles. She slowly came out of unconsciousness and felt pain and then her mothers fingers entwined between hers. She knew it was her. She knew the shape of her hands well. Every curve and wrinkle, the indent from where her mother’s wedding ring once sat for so long, but not anymore. She felt the hands that had held her for sixteen years. Her eyes slowly flicked open and she found the flustered but relieved visage of her mother. The girl shut her eyes, quick. Hoping they would never open again.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
You know those really really really long events you had to go to as a kid. Ridiculous stuff- like family reunions, or church meetings or just plain ol' being dragged along? Sometimes fun stuff- road trips (if you fancied them), Disneyland or whatever equivalent, or to family you actually liked.
Leaving at sunrise and returning as bats and owls start to yawn and pull up their sheets. That time of night.
After a long day of this and that and that and this. Well, I wish I could relive one of those drives back. Laying down in the back of the car if you had lots of space, wrestling with the seat-belt buckles on your back; or constantly trying to re-position your head against your window or that uncomfortable and non-ergonomic plastic-type frame next to the door lock and above the handle only to be bounced by the car and woken up.
Long after my brain would give up on trying to sleep in said conditions I'd get into a semi-psychedelic state. Watching the sea of red lights in front of me, ebbing and flowing little dots- each controlled by the movement of the others. To the left a torrential outpouring of bright yellow/white light (blue nowadays with those LED's or whatever). Not a single stop-light in sight.
I often would tilt my head slightly upward, my head against the window causing my vision to vibrate with the tiny, ubiquitous bumps in the road and look at those tall "7" shaped street lights. They'd come into existence as fast as they disappeared in a consistent and wonderful rhythm. Mesmerizing to say the least.
Occasionally the sound of the turn signal would outweigh the subtle 'whirrrrr' of the car and the sound of the road, only to silence after a soft sway in either direction. Slowing down, the beep-beep-beep of the "hey your door's open", and the slight cool breeze worked like a snap to a hypnotized me. Slowly peaking up to regain my bearings- only to continue forward once there was ample juice in the car or less juice in the folks driving.
But now tis' only I who drive. And I drive myself, by myself. Trying to recreate the same feeling while I drive wouldn't be quite smart... And so like those street lights those times have whizzed by without a sound. Only to be appreciated once it stops. They say time goes. No.
truly- time stays, we go.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
I think he wrote
while you baked,
made fairy cakes
or something of the sort
while the young ones
whizzed around
like balloons
released from your fingers.
I think he was
your applicant,
not a bad fit,
frothing with wit,
a kiss made you giddy
like a girl
on their first date
in the heaving city.
On a red day
I think you sighed
when hearing boots
in the hallway but beamed
on a blue day
when he strode
through the door, a tie,
another rough wool jumper.
When he rode
those capsules home
I think perhaps you
wished to nick
your thumb again,
see the crimson seep
and weep as a child
over their father.
I think you wore
the smile of accomplishment
on day forty-two,
enough had bruised you,
pinched your skin
so it hurt and burnt pink,
stung a cheek
and left a tender spot.
I think you didn't want to
but did anyway,
felt all your words
had charred and bled black
so inhaled the haze,
swam under the jar
for the last time, before it fell
and cracked on his floor.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Glasses that tinted blue under the sun
cold, white teeth that dazzled
a smile that fizzed
it whizzed in my stomach.
Tingling, fidgeting hands
a correction of plans that I made when you asked if I was free
for you, I'd always be.
The dark hair that snaked across your head
it drew my breath
and with it left,
the rest of my youth and that is the truth.
Brown eyes, hidden by wireless frames
the sparkle that you once brought
has many times given me the thought:
of how I wish I could paint your face and
hold your hand against my chest
to do my best to never let go, for then how could I ever know?
A smile that shattered the sky, you spoke of many things
but never once did you utter a "goodbye"
so imagine my surprise when you died and left behind
that wisecracking smile, etched into my skin.
What you did was a sin and now the sky is so dim
a dull lull loses control of it's full power to consume
**** you ruined my plans of a happy beginning
and now it's all about my never beginning ending.
I am spending my days fending for those memories
that fold in the corners of my mind
it takes so long for me to find
your voice that once saved me from my own demise
You were so wise, so sly with your ulterior motives
to take away your own life
and now it's my life to figure out why?
Why, did you have to die?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:47 AM UTC