"yelped" poems
There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
I watched the fox, rat held firmly in its jaw,
Trot across the street, lithely avoiding the cars,
Ears pricked up.
It slithered under a fence and weaved through the undergrowth,
Not once acknowledging my presence.
Disappearing in the night, it yelped out its echoes in the wood
Licking out worms.
The shadowed moon slung down its light
Like weak silver bristles from the back of a carved out hedgehog
Covered with newly deposited fox saliva.
It had screamed as it was consumed-unable to die!
The crow stabbed at a newly dead rock pigeon
As the stalking cat pounced......
Death mingled!
Joe, who lived near me, waved:
I waved back, wondering why he saw nothing.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
There once was a little beagle who was stuck in a deep puddle of mud.
The puppy struggled and struggled, only to become more exasperated.
Crying and pouting, the beagle finally gave up and let himself slide neck-deep into the mud.
He laid like this all night, until the next morning, only his brown-speckled head was atop of the mud pile.
A small child walked by the puddle and to him, he saw a giant mass of mud with a head.
The young boy screamed in horror, but ran closer to get a better glimpse. To his surprise, the beagle woke up and yelped to be free from the mud. The little boy felt an immediate affection for the puppy and jumped into the mud puddle and pulled the dog out.
The lesson?
I'm still trying to figure this one out, too.
I'll let you know when I figure out the lesson behind this one.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
"I'm better, I'm better." She lies to herself
as it hides tucked away, taped under her shelf.
"I am loved, I am loved." She convincingly yelped
as her vice hides away until she calls for help.
"I am strong! I am strong!" The poor girl carries on.
He's unhidden and waiting to come sliding along.
Drip, drip, drip. The girl's hand must have slipped
for her razor is laying, right there, where she sits.
kd
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Tonight, I spoke into the darkness,
No stars to light my way,
The black void all encompassing
My words drifting up in ribbons,
I waited for something, anything to happen
I felt a rumble that was akin to ripples emanating from a drop of water hitting a puddle
I was small next to the impossible,
And when it spoke back, it changed me
The blank canvas of stark black was pierced by blades of light,
The sky becoming a shutter in a rain storm
Blowing open and closed
The words came and wrapped themselves across my body in its entirety
Constricting my air flow
I felt myself shatter
An implosion of feeble glass
Ricocheting through a skeleton of paper, reflecting the brightness above inside ripped skin
I was nothing.
I didn't exist.
I floated in an incomprehensible place that had no end, no walls
No ceiling or floor
Just illumination in every direction
I opened my eyes
And was blinded by an incredible radiance
I shut my eyes tight and swatted in front of me
My hand struck something metal and I yelped in pain
I shot up and stared downward
Towards the desklamp unplugged on the floor
Breathing heavily, I sat upright in my bed,
Struggling to pull away words that had already sunken in
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
On the platform rolled the morning train,
I arched into position like a predator on the prowl,
I jumped into the rake and sustained a sprain,
and like a wounded dog began to howl.
I bought myself to stand and staggered towards an empty seat,
as hundreds rushed through the compartment door,
I dint get a seat, but space enough for my feet,
and that's when my phone clattered onto the floor.
I dived into the mammoth crowd,
and began to ***** unsuspecting toes,
Several people yelped out loud,
and i sustained a few hard blows.
Wounded and abashed i almost gave up the search,
when the phone came into my hand,
with relief i grabbed it amidst a jolt and lurch,
but soon realized I couldn't bring myself to stand.
I sat crouched on my fours,
and soon developed knee sores,
The crowd was so large, I couldn't squeeze through them all,
and to my horror, other phones began to fall.
Soon, we were quite a gathering, all perched on our knees,
merrily discussing the Lokpal bill and the Cricket match in West Indies,
We were soon forced to balance on a single toe,
as the crowd began to grow even more.
After an uncomfortable half an hour,I brought myself to stand,
with delicate ease on the platform I managed to land.
Fighting against the oncoming crowd i pushed through with a shove and ****
dusting myself here and there I made my way to work.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
DEAR MOM I AM HOMOPHOBIC
Dear mother
My guardian angel and protector
Am afraid to tell you
He was staring at me
When i went to the loo
His cold gaze pierced my back
And his unblinking eyes sent jitters down my spine
A creeping feeling enwrapped my whole being
When i turned his charming stare held me prisoner and he smiled at me
Mother i could feel his look perusing me like an art book
From head to toe i was studied
I felt naked as his hungry stare undressed me
To him i was a piece of an apple pie
I could make out gurgling sounds as he swallowed dry saliva and licked his death black lips
Lust was painted all over his mane covered face
Mom i was really scared
I regretted stepping in that club
When i returned to my seat he bought me beer
My liqour thirst was hard to bear
I betrayed my masculinity
And accepted drink from a **** sapien of male fraternity
My mind was having a cold war with my soul
Wierd thoughts tormented my intoxicated body
Where did i stand???
He welcomed himself in my table
With a gecko like grin etched on his face
"You are handsome"those were the ugliest words i had ever heard from a man
My owl like eyes bore onto him with blazing anger dancing on my eyelids
I was shaking not because i was cold but murdering instincts were elecrocuting my adrenaline
He mistook my silence and commited a cardinal sin by placing his manicured hand on my thighs
He winked as his blinking broke the speed record
I cleared my throat and i knew it was time to recorn
He thought his tactics had worked
I withdrew my hand from my pocket raised beer bottle as if to toast
He hastefully followed suit
"Chee....he never finished as i bathed him with my beer
"Hey ****** am straight"i yelped as i crushed the beer bottle on his thick skull
I heard a deafening yell
The rest i remember is being frog matched into a police car
So dear mom its not my fault am in jail
Am here because i fought
Mom am not a law breaker
Am here because i am homophobic
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC
The heat knocking through the glass,
Shaking the metal,
Our seats impersonating
Our body heat.
I looked out, a brief pause in journey.
The red light tirelessly blinked
Then and now,
Green would be a go.
He was peeling it off,
He asked me, as usual I said no.
One was handed to the man
With an upturned mustache on the front,
I could tell that was his pride.
Three were alined in a plastic bag,
Their fate still undecided.
Gentle but hurried taps on my window,
They had cars to cover
I think now.
Two little kids in ragged clothes,
I wonder is it the dust of the world
Or the filth of a society's failure
That stains their clothes brown,
Their faces black?
One was of the usual age
They're grown up at,
The other, the age
They begin at.
After a brief and short
And "matter of fact" discussion,
Bearing in mind the kids' busy schedule
I wound down the window,
And decided the three bananas' fate.
The grown one just ran to the next car,
Grown you see,
The little one
Yelped in happiness
Of the fruits rejected by me.
Nothing could sound more beautiful
Than the kid's exclamation
"Bananas"
A giggle.
The red turned off.
The driver smiled
Yet every act was but a drop
I could not collect
To fill the desert of doom.
The heat hovered
And hovered,
The heat that turned
Back at my home
Many bananas black
Until they were discarded.
The flies feasted upon,
The gun is pointed
At the kids.
Sometimes blood leaves no stain.
Sometimes the black stains
On bananas are of our souls.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
The gruff factory worker
in the coarse leather boots
and stained zubaz pants,
yelped with displeasure
when the tour guide of
the Pullman company town
revealed himself to be a
PhD candidate in English
during a Q-and-A.
He questioned his credentials,
dismissed him as overeducated,
as soft-palmed, not of his caste,
loudly declared that he was
just another bureaucrat in waiting.
"Institutions just exist to perpetuate
themselves; they don't care about
the people, just about keeping
themselves alive," he theatrically
confided to his friend,
wanting to make sure he heard him,
took note of his flagrant, raging skepticism.
"They got to pay the lawyers."
"All these institutions, they don't care about the workers."
We strode on, amid the shadowed reaches of the empty train car factory the owners long ago abandoned to the rustling prairie,
left to the wind and weeds and elements.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
Life is an accelerator
But I hate her
She trips on words
And works my nerves
Life pushes me away from you
Begged her not to
Indeed I lost
To sting the wasp
Life yelped in rhetorical ways
Pocket of space
When questions soar
In masking roars
Life cried herself to sleep last night
Polluting sight
As stars dim out
With clouds of doubt.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
At Fuller's emporium of whiskers and wine,
As matches are struck on the no smoking sign.
Mr Terry Fuller, of reddened face refined,
Regiments and orders his elbows aligned;
With stories of rumour, football, *******
Thieves, my boy and across Texas by trucking.
He loudly regales to the spirits of faces,
"Me and my boy have been to some places, we've seen some girls, he gave em' rub,
As I was too busy running the pub."
Howling as they're told, sighing in ease,
Mr Daniels accusing "who's round is it please?"
When shadowed in doorway, tip-toes, a pale boy.
Stringy, svelte and painfully coy.
Debate is lulled, as men catch scent.
"Don't come in here boy, or your money'll be spent."
Roaring,rumbling, the boy unsettled in mirth.
"He can't buy any beer, he's only just had his birth."
Half-pint of breath, the boy stammers to say.
"I just was curious, i mean, I ask, if I may-"
A bellowing fanfare, "Speak up or go away!"
"I just wanted to know what you do with your day?"
Mr Fuller, heaving his pink smirking bulk, anchored by his drink.
"We work, we go home and we pub till we sink."
Troughs raised in toast, raining down on bald heads.
As the boy puzzling thinks what the bulbous man said.
"Then tomorrow" yelped the youth.
"What do you do after that?"
"More of the same, till God's on the mat!."
Throned by grey faces, blanketed in smoke,
As the toothless, eggs titter at the nonsensical joke.
Raising a tiny limb, "So this happens everyday?"
Mr Fuller rubbed his hands, "I wouldn't have it another way."
The alphas puffing , guffawing, dribbling beer down chins. And for blood-vesseled faces another story begins.
As the silhouetted boy under a veil of tears, whispers "I'm so sorry" and leaves.
In Fuller's emporium a silence ensued,
The sound sat between them and quietly chewed.
Every brow furrowed, as the beer didn't flow.
A quiet conclusion.
"The youth of today what do they know!"
JWS
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Great ***** of fire, dart through the bones.
That muscle pumps ridged ****** stones.
The bitterness won’t leave her alone.
Alone, the bitterness left her home.
Home could not be found for help.
In search she went beyond herself.
Beyond her thoughts, she started to yelp.
She yelped until emotions no longer were felt.
Out of the blue, she felt this soothing breeze,
That cooled her bones that danced like trees.
Her blood streamed rivers flowing into seas.
No longer in confinement her minds at ease.
Hugs and kisses, I felt those before.
Moon lit dinners, chocolates roses at the door,
The dreams sold were sweet to the bitter core.
You sold me no dreams, yet gave me more.
How is it that you took this loneliness from me?
Destroyed my sadness, made bitterness flee,
“U” figured me out to the “T”.
I feel happy; I am blissful to feel free.
Through my unfathomable heart beats love.
It’s not broken or dead, a lively hub.
Peaceful and serene like the shivery white dove.
Chivalry, “I adore thee like the stars above”.
I was under the world, and now I’m on top.
Twinkling eyes, from the stars rain drops.
You dried the flooded garden like a mammoth mop.
I have someone to depend on, and my dreams they would not stop.
You’re the rush of excitement that cured my lifeless streak.
With your tenderness and care you clogged my tear ducts leak.
I have found what I longed for; I no longer have to seek.
Gone are the rain storms, the breeze blow by my silent creek.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Goodbye world
Goodbye poetry
The metaphors have sold me out
And exposed my lies and lies and lies
And now I have no where left to hide
The doctor tried to lock me up
And tear off my new head
But worry not for he did not succeed
I pushed and knocked him down
He yelled,
"Come back! Come back! You're mad!"
But I knew
It was he who was crazy
Fallen I may be
But I know my heart
Is exactly where it belongs
That doctor would rather make me
Numb and dumb
He doesn't know all love must be
Mad
Or not be done
So I jumped the wall
And escaped his Loony-Bin
He gave chase
And yelped for help
"Stop him! Stop him!"
"A stark raving Lunatic is on the loose!"
Having taken lessons from my fallen heart
My feet did race fast and quick
Oh my metaphors, my metaphors...
How could they!?!?
Exposed my lies and lies and lies!
Now where can I hide?
Oh woe oh woe oh woe...
I've got nowhere else to go
But to take the trek
To the forbidden
Hills of madness
My crayon eyes of red
Now turning blue
As I run and cry and cry and cry
Why oh why oh why
Did my metaphors betray me?
My heart head
Feels doomed to breaking
But broke or whole
To love you
Was the only sensible thing for it to do
Even if it seemed crazy
I run and sing
Off key and out of tune
And horribly
But no choice left
All other words have disappeared
No more metaphors
No way to lie and lie and lie
Only three words left to sing
And scream
And howl
And I trust the moon
To pass my song to you
Across the sea between us
It may be small
Only three words long
But these three words are true
And this may be my last breath
So here I sing
"I Love You! I Love You! I Love You!"
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
Their mouths are
gaping wide and cavernous
hungry
needy
watering
eyes bloodshot and open against their will
they need a fix to their addiction
they don't have time for predictions
only answers
give them their answers so they can can sleep tight
tonight
they lost their blanket, their stuffed bear, their mommy to kiss them goodnight long ago
they wake up screeching in the dark from nightmares of gray deserts
where no one is there to tell them if it's night or day
now all they have are their answers
to which questions
they don't know
don't care
they haven't got the time
their lives must compete with one another
their mouths must inhale old, stuffed, oatmeal air
with their bloodshot eyes wet from the dry air
can you hear their hollow voices
muttering and sleepwalking their regurgitated, responses
to anonymous questions
their retorts slowly getting louder and louder
till you can't tell one answer from the other
their lives are competing with one another
answers are yelped at the top of their throats
they lose their voices so often nowadays
so often, they must rest with their
mouths gaping wide and cavernous
hungry
needy
watering
eyes bloodshot and open against their will
they need a fix to their addiction
refusing to think about the day
when the questions
drip, drip, drip, drip
away.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
"Tell me something that no one else knows darling" she crooned to me as I ran my fingers thru strands of her golden blonde hair before grabbing it and wrapping a fist full of strands around my hands and pulling tightly, moving in for a rough kiss on her soft lips. She bit my lip and drew blood. I bit hers and she yelped as if she had had a small ****** Her body became weak beneath my touch.
"You've ruined me for the rest of my life."
"I said to tell me something no one knew, not something that is dreadfully obvious to even the town drunkard."
"I am the town drunkard."
"City drunkard."
"State drunkard."
"Earth drunkard."
"THE drunkard," I roared and pulled her closer to me, feeling the ache of her skin as it collided into mine. Her breathing was heavy. Rapturous. She smelled of lust and passion that only comes in the moment of being caught doing a thing that should not be done. I inhaled her. I wanted to destroy her so that no one else could ever know her the way I do.
"You're mine."
"Oh am I now?"
"Yes. Now."
"Well then. Own me."
"I don't want to own you."
"Oh? What is it you want then," she asked with a slight tremble in her voice.
"I want to break you as you've broken me."
"What if I am already broken?"
"Then I will take you."
"Take me."
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
He danced in light, son of the Wind,
And colored the minds below.
She was too deep, locked in herself,
But he still had inarticulately tried
To convey his longing in light.
When he asked the girl
What her name was, she replied,
"I am the Marianas Trench,"
And he blinked, smashing lashes
In a vain effort
To extract an answer not forthcoming.
She gazed blankly, concealing
Three million dying hopes
Faintly sparkling within her depths.
He bashfully cast his eyes
Downward to conceal his own
Inner turmoil.
"I am the Aurora Borealis,"
He finally yelped as his fingers drummed
Notes in the tension between them.
A light flickered across her
Black eyes, flitting to his own.
Quickly extinguished, it
Carried within it her slipped
Composure and raw yearning.
He drew breath, and the coronas
Of his eyes slid to meet hers,
Blank once more.
Before she could bolster
Her dwindling courage,
He was leaving, taking with
Him all her color.
"Don't!" She pleaded.
Her cheeks flushed magenta.
He blanched, his eyes dark.
But he was far from her,
Shrouded in light
That could never color
The stone walls she built.
Miles high, she hoped
They touched his sky someday.
Until then, she was hidden,
Sound, and he was brilliant, lost.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
Her eyes reflected the tragedy she endured
She struggled daily to escape this hell hole
Her pain, was evident through the tears that rolled down her cheeks
Her cries were capable of making the strongest person weep.
She often wondered why...
Why was she so unfortunate to deserve such a fate?
Why she was not capable to give up on her life?
She burned in agony
She screamed in pain
She yelped for help, But no one came to her aid.
She was fed up but was still clinging onto some hope.
She tried to fight.... Oh how hard she tried to hold onto her life.
But he took everything away..
He stripped her from her innocence, caged her freedom and destroyed her pride.
And one unfateful day.. He even took her life.
One day, in broad daylight
He entered the house, staggering towards her with a knife.
He stabbed her, not once but twice.
Cursing her that she was reason people looked at him with spite.
He forced her into such a dark place where it's impossible to survive.
Her once porcelain skin turned scarlet.
Her struggle to survive, ceased to exist.
She was put out of her misery.
She was put out of her pain.
If only the people had believed her cries.
If only they had offered to help her fight.
Maybe.. just maybe She would still be alive.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Thelonious Tree had so long been in slumber
that no one alive could remember the number
of years he'd been snoozing, and it became understood
that Thelonious Tree was asleep now for good.
On the first day of spring dawned a day calm and fair
when a horrible noise pierced the still morning air.
It rattled his roots, yes it shuddered his trunk
and dimly Thelonious heard the cathunk
that rustled his leaves where birds were at nest
till grim and confused, he was roused from his rest.
Ancient Thelonious opened one bleary eye
saw the soil caked with concrete, saw how smog choked the sky,
and worse still he saw that clamorous sound
belonged to a man far below on the ground
with an axe in his hand and the axe went cathunk
each time it was buried in the side of his trunk.
From a slumber so deep it had lasted an age,
Thelonious now woke to a terrible rage.
He shook of the very last traces of sleep
as he pulled out his roots from their place in the deep;
he reached down and with a sickening smack
threw that axeman so far he would never come back.
The man landed far off in the limbs of some trees
where he threw down his axe and he yelped out a "please!
that the trees were alive, why I never did know,
I'm done with my axe now; I'll just help things grow!"
Meanwhile Thelonious found that nothing was green,
there were but stumps in the earth where his friends once had been.
They were now houses and fences and tables and chairs
they were burning in chimneys and polluting the air.
Heavy with grief, he at last understood
that the humans cared nothing for trees; only wood.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
I started school in nineteen hundred and typing error. But we were so poor growing up we had to share clothes, so I could only go to school every other day on account of being a twin. PE was a little embarrassing as I had a twin sister. It wasn't so much playing rugby in a netball skirt, no – my problem was trying to iron the pleats back in afterwards.
At 6 years old I was cast in my infant schools nativity play as 3rd reserve palm tree, in a play with no palm trees in it. When I complained to the teacher she told me to stop moaning and remember what jesus taught us.
“Can I be that?” I asked
“What?” she said
“You said jesus had a tortoise, can I be the tortoise?”
At 14 years old I was given a major role in my upper schools annual PTA play. We were doing Romeo and Juliet and I was cast as – the balcony. However on the night of the performance, unlike in rehearsals, the girl playing Juliet wore stiletto heels. So when she stepped onto the balcony (me) it yelped and rolled over. She went base over apex knocking over Romeo and landed spread-eagled on the floor that revealed her underwear to the whole audience. I am sure I speak for every parent, teacher and pupil in that hall when I say that I can never look at My Little Pony in the same way ever again. She never spoke to me again – like it was my fault!
(Oct 2020)
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 6:48 AM UTC
"She floats!"
Her father yelped
His eyes fixed on the water
He thought the girl could be helped
But after so many tries, he decided to put an end to the bother
She floats, yes, indeed she did
Her eyes wide and smiling
She knew her father had finally lost his lid
As the bodies of townsfolk kept piling and piling
She flitted her eyes to the dock
Where her father raised his eyebrows
He had tried everything, but now the locks refused to lock
The chains went to ash and he was done with the whats, whys and hows
She kept smiling at her daddy
In that reassuring way
In her mind, she too had had it
She'd had enough of play
"I don't know what to do with you anymore!"
And she nodded in agreement
As he screamed from the shore
The policemen he had sent
To show her God's path
Had been lit on fire
With a fury that he thought even God not hath
And now, here she was, tied with rope and wire
Floating in the middle of the ocean
Smiling and smiling, knowing her father was a liar
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:39 PM UTC
I travel many miles across the
hot African savanna. I walk
silently through the tall grass
like a mouse. the wind blew
through my mane catching a
scent of prey. I keep low
low looking through the grass
seeing black and white stripes
My family has been searching
for food for the past two
days, but nothing was to
be found. my cubs have to
eat so they can be big
and strong like me
I licked my chompers already
tasting the raw meat. I lowered
my back legs and jumped out
of the grass scaring the zebras.
thousands scattered and I didn't know
which one to pick
dust flew in the air
like a bad windy day.
finally I saw the dinner
tonight. a full grown male zebra
running alone. I sped up
pouncing and bit the back of
the male.
The male zebra yelped continuously to
let his herd know he was in trouble.
All the herd cared about was themselves
to get away from me. He fell onto his side
trying to get back up but my weight
was to much. My fangs penetrated the zebras neck
getting a taste of flesh.
I did as much as i could to get the food back one piece
defending the food from those wild dogs. Getting back to
the large tree where my family was they ran up to me like
they haven't seen me in a mouth.
i put the meat in the shade stepping back as my cubs pierced the
skin playing tug of war with it. my wife came up to me and set her
head on my broad shoulder and purred saying thank you.
I licked the blood off my lips and I roared as loud as i could.
This is my home, this is my family. no one messes with the king.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
so the editor found herself again
and decided that love never lies.
her parakeet befriended me,
but i didn't like birds.
i started out trying to write the world
and barely made it through the week.
she and i used to take walks
at three in the morning and
speak of the little things other
people don't notice.
i couldn't believe the crayon lines
were real and she didn't make us up.
she drew herself into the margins
of every book she read, then
returned them to the library
and hoped a suicidal soul would notice.
i screamed murals into a tape
recorder, and it only stared.
she had a collection of bird feathers that
represented each of her favourite
authors, because each time she read
another book, there was another feather.
we never sailed together, even
though the moon yelped for us
and she gestured for us, and
(really, i was the one left hanging, empty hands and a broken neck)
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC
It started as a whisper.
I lacked confidence in my dreams, and spoke softly.
You brushed my hopes aside, for I was only a child.
I grew and matured, hoping you'd hear my older, more deliberate wish.
Yet in your eyes, I was still a child.
I spoke louder, hoping my volume was the issue.
Yet, you acted like I did not speak.
But I DID speak.
As Webster said, I was expressing my thoughts, opinions and feelings ******
I spoke firmly.
I spoke strongly.
I spoke pleadingly.
As time passed, my body grew,
along with confidence in myself and my dreams.
I spoke again, a different woman.
I spoke again, for others said I could do anything, for I was me.
I spoke again, more forcefully than ever before, causing echoes in the room.
I was sure you had heard me.
Yet you shot me down, ignoring me and my voice.
And then I screamed.
I screamed until our neighbors, friends and family,
from Korea to California
heard my voice.
I screamed until the dogs in the shelters (and the sitting rooms)
yelped in alarm.
I screamed until wine glasses (and my heart) shattered into a million pieces and fell on the floor.
I screamed until my sound echoed off the mountains and caused the birds on the trees flew away in fear.
I screamed until I fell on the floor, sobbing at your feet.
I screamed at you,
I screamed at me,
I screamed at god.
And no one heard me.
You have muted my voice,
My throat is now hoarse.
But I am still screaming.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
It Would Be a Cold Day in Hell
by Mutasem Amayreh
You heard my story
Tongue-tied
My crowning glory
In a World-wide
Eye-folded
Yet in a cottage
tied
One day
The owner scolded
The bushy eyebrows
Frowned
On the scent of treason
Yelped the hound
During the peak season
Different colored Inks spilled
One iota of sound reason
The Mantle it pilled
What follow that I
detest
While sight-blinded
Began the Rorschach test
The process, long-winded
I didn’t hesitate
That one-sided picture
Of the issue
Started to imitate
Composed a tissue
of lies
Didn’t freak
Cut my ties
Promised Ink won’t leak
Believed the wiseacre
That talent spotter
Never become a risk-taker
But a life-long voter.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC