"windowpane" poems
The world around me keeps
spinning on,
it is
fast
paced,
smells become
indistinguishable.
The air stands still
it tastes stale.
different colours b-l-u-r
to grey
A windowpane of
rainy
patience.
Voices
screech
painfully
noises w~h~i~r~l
to echos
not unlike sanity
fleeing to
a place inside myself.
An eye of the storm
Next destination
cool
solitary,
timelessness-
calm.
s e r e n i t y
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
they're saying "all you do is drink and cry", "I think you're bad for everyone" and you're not saying anything and I'm saying I love you,
I ******* love you
And maybe I needed something to bring me back to reality maybe these bathtubs are always a little too deep for me but I fit so perfectly in small spaces because I learned when I was 14 that i was never gonna grow into a butterfly
but my aunt still calls me hers and I'd still flutter my eyelashes on yours while the earth turned to ash because I like things ending so softly
and you are a ******* miracle if I've ever seen one I want to sleep with you so badly, on a trampoline in the summer and I want to watch you do bad things and smile so sweetly at you and you'll know that I don't give a **** what you do as long as you're still loving me while you're doing it because baby we've got this one life and I've been loving you as long as I have known what love is and I know it's in the way you whisper and I know it's in the way you say you're my world and if the world stopped turning tomorrow we'd be the only things still moving with excitement you make me so nervous and calm and nervous and calm and deep breath you make me nervous I bet you'll make me nervous when we're older and I'm making you pancakes and I feel your eyes on me and I burn my fingers but you always kiss them better baby
you're an alleyway and the kitten that sleeps there
you're the rain on the windowpane and the water breaking the levee
I'm drowning in everything I have ever said to you so if I say one last thing one last thing,
while you're not saying anything,
I love you,
I ******* love you
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
evening loneliness arrives at dawn
and knocks on the dusty windowpane
in the kitchen, i lie — with threadbare arms —
against the shabby wooden cupboard frame
this house is void of all electricity
except for the light bulbs, the fridge, the T.V.
and my steady-beating heart of rhythmic defeat
lying naked across the tear-stained sheets
if you come home and find that i am dead,
perhaps some ***** dishes fell on my head
but most likely, i'll be, in the living room gloom
with a half-drunk bottle of wine to consume
with emergency flares tied to both wrists,
i'll leave you a smile, a sigh, and a kiss
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
Stepping in the middle of a hurricane fire waiting for the winter to blow
Somebody was listening but you were on your way to Mexico
Down there, they won't care if you want to run around town
The women don't love you but the one you do sleeps in a Minnesota town
Can you see the horizon falling like a diamond in the middle of the violet sky?
You thought you were clear until a tear came to your eye
Everything was moving along and you had your pride in your hand
Now you've got a decision, do you run or fight like a man?
Somewhere in the city where everything was pretty, you found the windowpane
You saw her silhouette burning like a jet through the campfire rain
You shouted out and saw her open up the window to her moonlit room
As a man grabbed her waist, froze you in place, now you've gotta move on too
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
It was a dark night, rain slashing through it,
Trying to cut the windowpane,
When your demons escaped from the cage.
They tied you up and burned you on a stake.
The fire licked you up and devoured you,
They thought they have destroyed you at last.
But your soul is a phoenix,
and it sprung back up from the ash.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Please don’t call me beautiful
when your hands are between my legs,
and god forbid you say it as a seg-way
between you’re so hot
and my caution, your response
you’re sure you don’t want to?
I’m pretty sure the way my body looks,
nineteen and stress-infused with an Oreo belly
isn’t really what you pictured beneath my blouse,
and I’m positive you didn’t listen
to the story about my dad and the bad prom dress
because you cared. It was just sentiment. You said it was beautiful,
but really you wanted me to believe the act
like a description in the Playbill
and ride that trust all the way until the curtain dropped.
Please don’t call me beautiful
when the word ******* is before it
or if we are ******* because making love
is for married couples and you don’t even want me
sticking around for the ****** sunrise that peers
underneath your shade every morning.
Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m crying—
crack me open and watch the colors bleed
like a painting that hasn’t dried. Admire
the light that peaks through the clear parts
like a windowpane, no blinds.
Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m laughing,
when I’m reading my favorite part of a book,
when I’m stuffing my face with peanut-butter
pretzel bites and I haven’t washed my sheets in weeks,
and I’ll know you can’t be lying
because I’ve listened to the waves your heart makes
when you’re sleeping and I’ve called your smile
to the surface many times when you’ve tried
to deflect it back inside. You’ll know that
and you’ll know I’m beautiful.
Call me beautiful
when you’re not even trying.
Call me beautiful when you’re by yourself
and the smell of my hair is still on your pillow,
or the memory of how dumb I sounded
singing my favorite song breaks your heart back
to the best little pieces.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Pitter patter,
Is that the sound of the drops of rain streaming outside down my windowpane or is it in the pain I am feeling while the tears cascade down on my swollen cheeks?
I try to speak but no words come out,
The rain stops.
Pitter patter, the sound of my tears and the thudding of my heavy heart are now one.
I try to speak but no words come out.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
I'm trying to find the right metaphor for the storm
but I ended up mumbling your name.
I can hear your bones break like thunder.
I can hear your cries against my windowpane,
thousands of miles from where you are.
You never thought I would stop running but I did.
I still remember the day when you beg my heart to settle down.
I still remember our little dance in the terrace,
two young people in the night,
experiencing forever in twelve hours.
You were the reason why I feel sad over the sound
of singing cicadas and heartbeats.
You were the reason why I stop leaving things unfinished.
Last night, a friend called and told me how you're doing.
I wonder if your scars still hurt when it's six degrees outside.
I want to cover your shoulder with words and moonlight until it softens.
Until you stop putting your hand on your chest at 2AM to keep it from howling.
I don't remember what type of storm you are anymore,
But I still remember you when it rains.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
• it's not that i don't love you
it's that when i was six, my mothers eyes were verdant fields illuminated by her laughter.
it's that my father came home that night, whiskey absorbed into his tongue, lavender lingering on his skin, the last two buttons of his shirt still undone.
it's that i always thought it was a tree branch caressing the windowpane at 2am.
when she was crying to the walls for help.
it's just that when he left, she started sleeping with the light on,
and her eyes died with winter's approach.
when they were together, her skin was a canvas for violet hues that burned like gin against your throat so she could never hug me.
it's that, last november when they healed, she painted them again - but this time in red.
it's that my mother didn't wear lavender.
• it's not that i don't love you
it's that my older sister doesn't leave her bedroom. i wonder if she misses the sunlight, or maybe if that's the problem.
it's that she told me that if people were colours he'd be red.
because she sees him in the sky when it sets.
and in the leaves that have been kissed by autumn.
it's that it's been a year, since she wrote that letter with scribbled letters and scattered thoughts,
talking about the way he said her smile reminded him of old movies,
and cotton candy.
and that she still loved him.
it's that last summer she went outside to feel his presence,
in the graveyard by the river - accompanied with lost lovers and broken hearts.
and it's that she came home and took a blade to her left wrist - heartbreak oceans leaving the sink painted scarlet.
it's that when the doctor asked her why she did it, she replied with:
"i forgot what red looked like."
• it's not that i don't love you
it's that once, my therapist told me about his wife.
and that she left him because her heart didn't beat for him anymore.
it's that when i told him my cat ran away last week
he smiled gently but with his eyes,
and replied, "don't worry, she's coming back."
like he had recited that phrase to himself a thousand times this week,
it's that i saw hope peck him on the cheek,
and ignite his eyes,
it's that i know they did that when she laughed like honey was melting into her tongue, or when she told him she loved the way his right eye was more green than the left.
it's just that, during my last visit,
he asked about my cat again,
and i had to tell him, "it's been months, i don't think she's coming home."
it's that he cried sapphire pools of misery,
because his eyes told me
he knew she wasn't.
it's not that i don't love you
it's that i do
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
It's not usual for me to be writing a poem this early
But since I can't sleep yet and my soul seemed empty
Here I am typing the words that came out eagerly
The concept that was pushed out of bravery
I lost my Sunshine and so darkness evaded
Ate my emotion and in Heaven I was rejected
On Earth I stayed trapped, bruised, and depleted
Away from the jewels all my life I have venerated
Pain is inevitable but at the same time curable
To a heart that is wounded, aftermath is memorable
Recovering from the incident is somewhat imaginable
Though at times it may seem unfathomable
It's hard to understand when your mind is shut
And the only thing that's open is your mouth and a "but"
A hint to a conversation is all but a gut
To start things through from where they should start
I would like to apologize to those I've caused hurt
With those words I've uttered and hearts I may have burnt
An instance wherein I lose control of my emotion
Such a lame and deep sign of depression
Before I end this short release
I thank thee for the glimpse
Writing this gave me peace
And hope it did give you ease
May 2, 2011
May 2, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
Staring out the windowpane
Trying to get rid of pain
Pain that once was joy from you
Now I'm thinking what to do
Never thought we'd fall apart
You got up and broke my heart
You walked out and said goodbye
Trying hard just not to cry
Thought we were the perfect two
but you left without a clue
Promised me a forever
Then left me for another.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
I crushed it, and it regrew anyways.
The hypothesis, was more romantic,
than tossing and yearning all night
over losing teeth in a giraffe fight.
Your hypothesis, was more romantically
worded, than a thesis on how birds die on impact
when colliding with a glass windowpane,
retrieving teeth lost during a giraffe brawl.
Worded, like the thesis about how birds die during impact,
each line of the letter dripped with invisible ink,
like colliding with a glass window. Pain
is only fleeting, if the end comes close behind.
Every line in each letter, drawn with invisible ink,
doesn't sound in the pronunciation, which
is only fleeting, if the end line draws closed behind.
So close your characters behind you, and don't let the draft in.
Does it not sound in the pronoun, the annulment of which
leaves every thing indefinite, and incomplete.
So clothe your characters before you, so they don't let in a draft,
and catch a cold from ****** or being indistinct.
What leaves everything indefinitely incomplete
other than the ability of the mind to hypothesize,
and catch a cold in the **** state of being extinct?
The inability to reconcile your metaphorical heart and instinct.
The others, they, have the ability to hypothesize,
about what makes us toss and yearn at night.
I forgave your inability to reconcile. My heart: pure instinct.
So you crushed it, and still it grew anyways.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
How it felt about when she smiled
Her roses were red wine
Teeth were an iceberg in a cold sea
I didn't know she knew me more than by name
I walked head up to her in a confident laze
She always willed to lay a hand in a steamy time
Whenever she called me by my pet name
I would light up a grin
How I couldn't help her spell
How much I belied of having a way out
The more she drew close, the more I sank in
How she made seduction a white collar trade
The lavish eyes, the lazy talk, the pure feminine mien
She pat on my shoulder and turned to catch a glance
Asked what made her hands a soft pleasure
Whispered that she was schooled in pottery and making dough
I couldn't stop but ask about the flawless curves
She pushed out her lips and said I used to spin a ring at nine
I asked her out for a movie
She said tragedies make her cry
One day I went to look down through my office windowpane
My sight met hers taking down a secret gang
With a fierce nine millimeter gun
I was left speechless in awe
We needed to rethink our revolution
On her mission in Damascus a plane crashed
I still cried a pail.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
The light beyond the windowpane reads like the lines of a poem
And the headlights crash into streams on their way home
The lampshade brushes your arm and crushes you like a stone
You're still there but over here you're all alone
The streets are all black or maybe it's just the night
The day was long but now it's time to make it right
But when your memories are wrong and blurred out of sight,
Do you really have the strength to put up a fight?
You light your cigarette and close one, ****** eye
"Don't bat a lash" says the woman who last made you cry
And she follows you down to the depths of your mind
She complicates your soul and then she just hurries by
Somewhere down the alley, towards the church bells of dawn
You hear a voice that slowly carries on
Like a lost whippoorwill still whispering its song
A feeling comes over you and you wonder why you waited so long
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 4:09 AM UTC
Where did we split off?
Was it the train?
Was I running after your solemn face staring at me through a windowpane?
Did we part ways in an enchanted forest?
Or perhaps it was in the depths of my cold room
Nestling under the covers
Begging warmth from each other?
I’m not sure, but in these moments of longing, I always remember you.
You’re still with me.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
I am the unnoticed, the unnoticable man:
The man who sat on your right in the morning train:
The man who looked through like a windowpane:
The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting
Morning pipe smoke.
I am the man too busy with a living to live,
Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch:
The man who is patient too long and obeys too much
And wishes too softly and seldom.
I am the man they call the nation's backbone,
Who am boneless - playable castgut, pliable clay:
The Man they label Little lest one day
I dare to grow.
I am the rails on which the moment passes,
The megaphone for many words and voices:
I am the graph diagram,
Composite face.
I am the led, the easily-fed,
The tool, the not-quite-fool,
The would-be-safe-and-sound,
The uncomplaining, bound,
The dust fine-ground,
Stone-for-a-statue waveworn pebble-round
4.2k
I fell asleep on a runaway train
Trying not to go insane, oh no
I felt alive but couldn't decide
If I wanted to live or die
Or spend another night / without you
I boarded as the sun went down
And there was no one else around, oh no
I slept against the windowpane
Hearing dreams and the falling rain
As I ride towards nowhere, without you
The endless fields go on and on
Like the pain when you said so long, oh no
I held in my weary hand
The letters of a lost romance
The words all seem empty, without you
As the sun rose in the East
From my dreams I've been released, oh no
The rhythm of the railway car
Makes me wonder where you are
And if I'll be alright, without you
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Cold white layers pile over the grey concrete
I did not expect the storm but I
Needed to face the journey
Someday
We knew it could not last forever
And in that moment
An accident in my vision,
Maybe the music screaming into my ear
Distracted me from the obvious truth that lie
Just through the windowpane
Leading to a collision straight into reality
Your words, the concrete divider
That hit hard enough to take deep damage
Yet not hard enough to stop me from moving forward
The unexpected truth that came at the least expected moment
My ignorance overlooked the obvious signs
That i could not stay safe forever
Not at the speed we drove..
My skin hugged my knuckles tightly
Enough to match the descending snow
As I knew from the first swerve
Your first word
That inevitable fate
I surely faced
Death loomed close in my mind
But I drove on
Grabbed the wheel and forced my way through
The place where I felt nearest to the grave
Until I reached a safe enough space to see for myself
Just how much damage I endured
And, like my car,
I am totaled
Broken into pieces that cannot be reframed
Some lost at the point of collision
Others gradually passing over time
And some still holding on
In the eyes of an astonished mechanic
The car shouldn't even start
And according to everyone else
I should be dead
But I'm not
And though neither the car
Or my own life will ever fully
return to their original condition
We still drive on
Moving forward on the unpredictable
Icy
Deadly
Highway of life
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
The rain resembles the pitter-patter of your words.
Each droplet— a syllable.
The chill— your breath.
I trace the streams of water
trickling down the windowpane
the same way I yearn
to run my fingers
down your skin.
I breathe in the scent wafting off the soil
and my insides warm.
The grey skies are calming,
yet electric,
as your gaze.
The drumming on the rooftop
whispers me to sleep,
gently,
as I allow my mouth to form around
the precipice of your name.
I can almost taste you.
I'm flooded with my longing to bury myself in you.
*Drown me in your storm.
Drench me with your words*.
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 4:30 AM UTC
Ghosts of all my lovely sins,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow.
Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow,
You shall have my further years-
You shall walk with me tomorrow.
I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.
I have lived with shades, a shade;
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be tonight arrayed
In the silver of the showers.
Every fragile thing shall rust;
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.
All sweet sins shall be forgot;
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.
Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
Sail, tonight, the Styx's breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest,
Spirits of my shared transgressions,
Roam with young Persephone.
Plucking poppies for your slumber . . .
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
3.7k
coupon for Granny's Original 32% All Natural Oatmeal®
cart-to-cart down aisle 48 and this man's an affront to khakis
and this woman's brain runs off a child's complaints
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy 80 pounds of rock salt
from The Home Depot®, more saving. more doing.™
more rock salt. more doing
BLIZZARD 2013
according to the radar, buy two-weeks-worth of tuna,
a pallet of Pepsi Max®, and four loaves of Baker Good's NeverMold Bread®
all for $21.99 with your Sam's Club® Rewards Card
BLIZZARD 2013
cart-to-cart down aisle 62 where once there was soda, now an I.O.U.
and I read on the internet that the preservatives in diet cola will keep
my body from decomposing and I read on the internet that these
dented, discount tuna cans will give me botulism
BLIZZARD 2013
one jug of water from a spring in Mountain View, Arkansas
one jug of water from a spring in New Iberia, Louisiana
picking between Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana
the pitter-patter on the warehouse roof reassures
time for eenie meenie miney mo
BLIZZARD 2013
and the intercom desperate for a cart wrangler
customer service now open for checkout
don't leave your toddlers alone in shopping carts
they're choking on free samples
with an echo, raindrops strike parking lot pools
just past the intersection an ambulance grumbles
BLIZZARD 2013
in a room with a view wishing the windowpane weatherized
beers bought by volume, candles forgotten, six months of
licorice, EverFluff® popcorn, and hand warmers of chemical kind
remembered
BLIZZARD 2013
will not be landing in the city, watch out for that rain though
if the temperatures drop below 32 degrees it could ice over
and if the temperatures don't, well, it won't
News 7's coverage of Blizzard 2013 brought to you by
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and Sam's Club®, savings made simple.™
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online . I have written a poem about it (of course lol). I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow.
My Dark Tale (A Sestina)
It is a lovely time of day for tea
As I sit curled up to the song of rain
Memories arise of a deep dark pain
Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly
Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope
Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme
Out of work, I suffer from too much time
Overeating and drinking too much tea
Depression worsens, stealing all my hope
And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain
Leaving me empty in the bitter dark
As I stare out of the broken windowpane
How I long to conquer my bitter pain
If only I would organize my time
I know then, I would rise above the dark
Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea
And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns
I flounder once again, losing my hope
I am tired of losing precious hope
Letting despair and worthless bitter pain
To take control and determinedly reign
Structure! Will that allow me to use time
Positively? Cutting back on black tea
Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark
Rested, I can push back the hated dark
Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope
Learning once again to enjoy my tea
And not as a crutch that causes me pain
While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time
Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain
I yearn to topple depression’s long reign,
To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark
Eager to greet the day and enjoy time
Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope
Do away with doldrums and bitter pain
Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea
Envoi
To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea
Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope
While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain
Kelly Rose
© January 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Spanish
Fuera, la noche en veste de tragedia solloza
Como una enorme viuda pegada a mis cristales.
Mi cuarto:…
Por un bello milagro de la luz y del fuego
Mi cuarto es una gruta de oro y gemas raras:
Tiene un musgo tan suave, tan hondo de tapices,
Y es tan vívida y cálida, tan dulce que me creo
Dentro de un corazón…
Mi lecho que está en blanco es blanco y vaporoso
Como flor de inocencia,
Como espuma de vicio!
Esta noche hace insomnio;
Hay noches negras, negras, que llevan en la frente
Una rosa de sol…
En estas noches negras y claras no se duerme.
Y yo te amo, Invierno!
Yo te imagino viejo,
Yo te imagino sabio,
Con un divino cuerpo de marmól palpitante
Que arrastra como un manto regio el peso del Tiempo…
Invierno, yo te amo y soy la primavera…
Yo sonroso, tú nievas:
Tú porque todo sabes,
Yo porque todo sueño…
…Amémonos por eso!…
Sobre mi lecho en blanco,
Tan blanco y vaporoso como flor de inocencia,
Como espuma de vicio,
Invierno, Invierno, Invierno,
Caigamos en un ramo de rosas y de lirios!
English
Outside the night, dressed in tragedy, sighs
Like an enormous widow fastened to my windowpane.
My room…
By a wondrous miracle of light and fire
My room is a grotto of gold and precious gems:
With a moss so smooth, so deep its tapestries,
And it is vivid and hot, so sweet I believe
I am inside a heart…
My bed there in white, is white and vaporous
Like a flower of innocence.
Like the froth of vice!
This night brings insomnia;
There are black nights, black, which bring forth
One rose of sun…
On these black and clear nights I do not sleep.
And I love you, Winter!
I imagine you are old,
I imagine you are wise,
With a divine body of beating marble
Which drags the weight of Time like a regal cloak…
Winter, I love you and I am the spring…
I blush, you snow:
Because you know it all,
Because I dream it all…
We love each other like this!…
On my bed all in white,
So white and vaporous like the flower of innocence,
Like the froth of vice,
Winter, Winter, Winter,
We fall in a cluster of roses and lilies!
3.5k
Raccoon tapping on the windowpane
Fuzzy beggar, growing tame
Evenings longer, midnights colder
My love and I
Just a little bit older
Quarter moon above the trees
Wind blows softly, rustling leaves
Would you love me if I lost my hair?
No, my dear
And don't you dare
Dog curling up by the potbelly stove
Whiskers peek from the old mouse hole
Grandma's quilt has a brand new patch
No more cookies
Or I'll get fat
Rocking chair got a squeak again
Sniff the air, smells like rain
Horned owl hoots from out the wood
I believe
All life is good
Before I die I want to know
All the winds and why they blow
All the forests, every stream
Why you smile, babe
When you dream
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC