There she is, there’s the girl Playing with her ball I pour the water out of the cup Quiet as a mouse enter the house So significant the blanket Remain
Tag: poetry
On some evening after sunset, I’ll drift home on a star. Happily with my eyes shut, drifting through the sky over the roofs and past the cars, not too near,
A sonnet is truly too hard to write since there are so many styles and types. Make it with ten syllable or without? Octave, sestet, rhyme or not, I don’t
Where are we going and whom are we calling? Talk over each other’s voices and yell through the window dirty like a child What city and what state? Whichever helps
I look at you lying with me in bed and when you look back at me, my chest feels warm. I have to squeeze you, but I don’t want ever
Open your mouth and inhale The freshly mowed grass dirt, soil It’s all clean A cool breeze and a tight squeeze Through the center of the earth Earth Set up
My search for truth is frustrated How often have you played the lyre? The role of the goddess changes until there is a heartless soul, then nothing – same song
On a Typical Night Sparks shoot off the train through the gray, grey morning The whorehouse feels the burning and the fire consumes the liquor store. Until the pistols swell
Carefree days can’t make up for careless ways. So if it is too hot – drop it Or you freeze with the pain of the heat So cold it burns
The summer days turn into nights And summer nights dissolve But keep breathing The seasons roll by and summer returns.